July 2012
22 posts
June 2012
12 posts
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My mind gets into trouble when I read poetry, but then I think “Fuck it,” mentally toss a lit match behind me and walk away from the blaze.
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Ditty of First Desire
In the green morning I wanted to be a heart. A heart.
And in the ripe evening I wanted to be a nightingale. A nightingale.
(Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.)
In the vivid morning I wanted to be myself. A heart.
And at the evening’s end I wanted to be my voice. A nightingale.
Soul, turn orange-colored. Soul, turn the color of love.
- Federico...
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Non-prescription thick-framed eyewear is the...
Fact.
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