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in the winter of 93 ( Read more... ) -
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I don't want this onion bagel anymore ( Read more... ) -
Charleston Blues
Last night Jeff and I went to Charleston. It was our once a week excursions into the Holy City. I've been doing them for the past couple months and can honestly say that Charleston in getting boring. I thought about how lonely I would be next year if I decide to transfer to CofC; I will walk those uneven streets alone. We didn't go to open mic ( Read more... ) -
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This water is much warmer than I remember ( Read more... ) -
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I suppose the general impulse of people drags behind me every day. I no longer feel I can have curt conversations about the weather or the style of one's own shirt. I read much about the people who devote their time to some pursuit; I know a few. Maybe they are not happy, maybe they are driven by some compulsion or obsession to do those things. And ( Read more... ) -
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Today I may talk to my anthropology professor about my synesthesia. He is a world renowned synesthesia expert--lucky me! -
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America, let me sing my songs
like children's hymns
and collared nuns
in tin-canned domes.
Cater my needs,
my health, my freedom.
I promise I won't
walk on your
sacred grass
or gold-plated sidewalks. -
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Violin player, your music does not heal.
I saw the crumpled up dollar bills,
thrown into your case
like the way boys throw paper balls
in school. -
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eerie buzzing sounds ( Read more... )