12:28 a.m.

a poem, maybe

Stephanie, the memory
Of perfect time and melody
Evaporates from me

Like awakening from a dream
Like steam rising from the bed
Of a body that's just turned cold

Longingly, I long for the
Frequency we recently inhabited
Fulfulment and wait, desire

And fate, angelic and extreme
As when laughter unfolds into a scream
And love (do I mean love?)

Is lost in-between.




     









the Funny Show



agriculture poem



my life in the ghost of Bush



time-lapsed (part 1)



unreconciled












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.