In a sinking ship, under tons of sand
You kissed me on the mouth; I felt your lips on mine for months afterward
Her fluidity under a thin sheet
We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death
Big huge booms and the lights from the ships off shore
House of Blue Leaves
Pink lemonade, Clementine, I don't want to leave this place without you
A delicate and lovely monster was hiding behind the fronds
Ruminations on a childhood lost to expectations
Unborn to-morrow and dead yesterday, why fret about them if today be sweet!
There's no better mirror than a child
A hollow feeling
Seeing too much blue
January 14, 2022
In the midst of life we are in death
March 25, 2003
Sacred ground a long way from nowhere
Might be like leftovers. Would not taste the same, however sweet.
Red birds will fly out of the east and destroy Paris in a night
Ask the Dust
The end of Zen
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