3:00 p.m. Fucked up our perfect relationship? Huh? Exsqueeze me? Sweetchitlin, I think our relationship still perfect; am I to infer otherwise? I do deplore the inadequacy of gross flesh as a vehicle for our passion, but we need to learn to work what we're given with: we have enough distances and alienations to separate us, and remember there is always death that will exert its dominion.

Perhaps we're not perfect, but I do think we are perfectible.

the Funny Show

agriculture poem

my life in the ghost of Bush

time-lapsed (part 1)

unreconciled

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Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.

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