skip to main
|
skip to sidebar
dispatches into the void
Tuesday, May 20, 2008
what I cannot tell him
he is like my breath
and I am gasping
No comments:
Post a Comment
Newer Post
Older Post
Home
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Blog Archive
►
2024
(18)
►
April
(2)
►
March
(4)
►
February
(9)
►
January
(3)
►
2023
(2)
►
December
(2)
►
2015
(37)
►
November
(3)
►
October
(4)
►
September
(3)
►
August
(3)
►
July
(5)
►
June
(5)
►
May
(3)
►
April
(3)
►
March
(2)
►
February
(2)
►
January
(4)
►
2014
(25)
►
December
(5)
►
November
(12)
►
August
(2)
►
July
(2)
►
May
(2)
►
April
(1)
►
January
(1)
►
2013
(31)
►
December
(1)
►
August
(2)
►
July
(1)
►
June
(3)
►
May
(14)
►
April
(6)
►
March
(2)
►
February
(1)
►
January
(1)
►
2012
(7)
►
September
(1)
►
June
(1)
►
May
(1)
►
April
(1)
►
March
(1)
►
January
(2)
►
2011
(38)
►
December
(3)
►
November
(2)
►
October
(19)
►
September
(2)
►
August
(1)
►
February
(2)
►
January
(9)
►
2010
(67)
►
December
(12)
►
November
(13)
►
October
(6)
►
September
(10)
►
August
(6)
►
July
(1)
►
April
(3)
►
March
(2)
►
February
(6)
►
January
(8)
►
2009
(64)
►
December
(8)
►
November
(1)
►
October
(7)
►
September
(14)
►
August
(9)
►
July
(10)
►
June
(9)
►
May
(1)
►
April
(4)
►
March
(1)
▼
2008
(168)
►
November
(8)
►
October
(21)
►
September
(13)
►
August
(15)
►
July
(17)
►
June
(38)
▼
May
(17)
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?
►
April
(26)
►
March
(10)
►
February
(1)
►
January
(2)
►
2007
(41)
►
December
(3)
►
November
(8)
►
October
(16)
►
August
(7)
►
July
(7)
No comments:
Post a Comment