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a canyon has words too
much more than echo, echo.
Wednesday, June 29, 2011
i am a writer.
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i want you for your freedom,for capturelessness, f...
if you have ever seen a soldier returning home,if ...
i am a writer.
i can hear her, quietly mewling in the bathroom, w...
the accoutrements of illness gatherlike the flotsa...
it sleeps like a tide inside the throat,waiting fo...
the body is such amisunderstood thing, an inchoate...
there is rhythm in the city streets,a beat that st...
in silence we dreadwhat comes inevitably;next week...
inheritance
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