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[chubby_35]

like water in its falling state the sirens and the streetsigns all together bring out purples under moonlit night and sometimes i will sit there with a sniffle in my nose smoking my last or second to it cigarette on the porch imagining some soft passing wind when that soft passing wind is really just the idea made by the word wind when i wonder at

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[anonymous]

i was talking to an acquaintance the other day. your name arose in the conversation. apparently, if you so wished, you could start a revolution in spoken word. judging by this post, i'd say it's the truth. glad to see you're writing and that everything is going well. good luck with all of it.