though we die a thousand times
I can feel my heart used as a rattle
right before I start our lullaby
yet totally convinced of its ending
bitterly tracing all my sentences
to revolt, recovery, everything
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
-
James R. Kincaid, an English prof. at USC, has been writing in The Slate, and practically everywhere else, about how we are given to autom...
-
Friends and old neighbors shutting it down in honor of John Crawford. _
-
At had us pose for this pic up at Aunt R's place on Lake Huron so he could put it up in his dorm. "Don't tur... -
(Sorry to have been so solipsistic--although The Yunus Nobel and the Desai Booker provided the much-needed antidote to that : ) I have b...
-
Today is the birthday of the best sister in the whole world (mine:)! Happy, Happy Birthday, Chelli! [AA, my favorite aunt in the whole wor...
-
Sunlight. arrogance sees, sleeps Now i understand: every thing you say. In the dark. heartbeat dee...
-
Yesterday at lunch with the awesome Pied Piper and an accomplished, pioneering writer whose anonymity we shall preserve, Piper turned to me...
-
that they work with families on Detroit's Eastside, they deserve their own thank-you copy. _
No comments:
Post a Comment