Near Matches
Ignore Exact
Everything
2
An ordinary revelation
Tall Thing runs
B.F. Skinner
complicitous
A misplaced sense of guilt from long ago
free spirit
a kind of pulling away
June 11, 2008
This broken jaw of our lost homes
December 31, 2005
Music is our religion
Can you reach true love? Let's say yes.
entropy
When poets scream
In which the mountains are old and I am the ghost on the battlements
Wash the grief away
The sky above the port was the color of television, tuned to a dead channel
The mountain abides beneath deep snow
Beautiful, in that way that space and any measure of emptiness is beautiful
His mournful lamenting, like smoke on the mountains
Homecoming
Growing up
rational
Sol
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