assam silvertip
the weeds in the parking strip clear the cardoor handles and let’s just say we’re on a first-name basis with rain. is this any way to spend my vacation– dreaming of kisses past?
the weeds in the parking strip clear the cardoor handles and let’s just say we’re on a first-name basis with rain. is this any way to spend my vacation– dreaming of kisses past?
o would that i had found the faith, fair portia, to borrow the means to sail for such as thee. instead i’ve clung to what i own: the vanity of poetry
it’s midnight, yet the sky is evening-blue two rings embrace the blinding moon will i ever tire of describing the moon? better ask the moon
cooling-car-songs. crispest sky. a cat sips the moon from a street-puddle. what’s that star in the south, tugging at my eyes reminding me of…what?
loud drops fall from eaves step out. near-full moon burns hole through clouds no thing more