You are currently browsing the daily archive for October 5th, 2007.
They never read much.
When offered ten bucks for all
their books, they sold out.
Switching to vampire
office hours. In bed past noon.
I write without light.
Well-loved now. Rescued
he was matted with feces,
eyes begging for home.
Dissolution is
the caterpillar’s abased
path to butterfly.
She hates her friends at
the moment. They cling, their needs
crowding out her self.
Anyone can see
she’s depressed. Crashed on the couch
sleeping beauty dreams.
Summer warmth still clings
Like gum on a shoe, with all
the stickiness gone.
My need to be first
makes me sweep away footsteps
that precede my own.
When nearing the end
why is it that time speeds up
precipitously?
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