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a canyon has words too
much more than echo, echo.
Thursday, September 20, 2012
I only miss you in the moments when I do not miss myself.
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rage is a desire, scurrying through the marrow of ...
I only miss you in the moments when I do not miss ...
4am premonition
what there is in the dark: maybe memories, maybe u...
so many rules, as we grew, hemmed us in: don't sho...
silence, in its wrathful, sedentary postures, enve...
A room full of candlelight, but where are you, and...
yellow gold bright warm sunshine butter mustard sa...
silence like a blanket, catching on the skin, muff...
what i am: solvent, secure, awash and afloat in se...
rivers and lakes and oceans, we have mounted stand...
sylvia
grey instead of white, grey instead of black, grey...
the pressure slowly building behind the wall: the ...
it was only after the abandonment that i found the...
i watch you, the short curves of your fingers, the...
soon realizes that her ego its height and architec...
i thought i caught you wishing-- thought i saw you...
what should the body be but a tool? an ends to a m...
like maybe we used to just be together in a room a...
so clear, concise, and independent, the road forwa...
we have erased ourselves, whittled down years and ...
what is race, in the race to the bottom? what is g...
with the pulse racing and words pacing, the mouth ...
the pregnant syllable, dissension waiting to burst...
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