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dispatches into the void
Wednesday, May 28, 2008
The Stranger
pages tangled in my sheets
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healing
The Stranger
late night late spring memorial sunday porch conve...
There is sand in my pocket.
what I've been missing
it happens gradually, doesn’t it
strawberries
what I cannot tell him
I imagine we are standing outside.
Old Salty Dog Blues
tenderness
This morning when I got up I found lying on the fl...
something I learned from the cats
almost brutish
too cynical to let go into the joybut wise enough ...
Dear Lard,
you got bookmarks?
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