döt & any piece of seriously sub-par technology she gets her hands on
影響
Langston Hughes. the King James Bible. Harry Belafonte. Sage Francis. Jel. Michael Stipe. David Byrne & the Talking Heads. my high school English teacher, Mr. Ready. Marvin Gaye. Anticon.
a hard cut sliced like watermelon heavy & hard the way she made me feel what was that? why did that happen? i ask myself over and over this time & that beginning & ending once forgotten but i always remember
scorched & blistered that was the way it was gagged & blinded that was the way time went beginning was only the ending middle too brief for mentioning _____________________________.. gigi boulais 2008
hello Doot I like your video. you should make more... and say your poems as you do something strange, like peeling potatos, or painting your nails, or maybe building funiture. miss you
Back when you were drunk and stumbling aimlessly around this city You swore you found my picture at the bottom of a bottle of rum. You shattered the glass in an alleyway So that any who passed by would slice their feet On every intoxicating drop of our unfinished affair.
I am the owl that sits in wide-eyed observance of snarling wolves. "If you're not careful," said the wolf, "I will devour you right down to your last wise feather."
dorothy, what has become of you? i miss you and your poetry.
happy holidays, my love! correction: happy PURPLE holidays! you remember those evenings in the car, trying to find a dark enough alley? :) i found the most fascinating ad for a liquor today. it says: the less a man has to say, the more words he uses in saying it.
oh, but the ideas are spinning 'round now. i am going to try to capture in a new poem the oddity of the human existance in a love scene in the garden of eden. not that it will work, mind you, but that is what i'm setting out to do.
just stopping by to let you know i started writing a song about shane, as a sort of tribute to him. it isn't anywhere near finished but i don't think it'll be good enough no matter what i do to it...not for him. sadness!
Once I read a story. In it was everyone I have ever loved. So I thought that if I looked at the end it would tell me my last lover, and that way I could go off in search of him and skip the others, But a cruel device is a book, It knew instantly that I had tried to look, And it crumbled before my inspection and fell in my lap in illegible pieces of rejection.
There came the day when I asked you, "How shall I get along when everything I've ever known leaves?" To which you replied, "Surely the gypsies know how to live peaceably among thieves."
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