

Drought: a Paucity of WaterListen as the sun cracks corriders in skin and raises furrows in chapped lips like empty riverbeds of flesh. Soap stings while the life giving rivulets are soaked through pearly white skin. Behind the shower curtain she feels like a paper cutout seeing lights shine on things barley seen through white linen. and she is panicing because the slip or porcelin and copper colored water leaves bruises on her knees. And during the drought callused feet stand on cold concrete floors in houses with no walls but where the ceillings are filled with electric light bulb stars.Drought: a Paucity of Water


couldn't fit the titleHeaven is with the Breezes Blowncouldn't fit the title
I. Gabriel Valentine was falling. This would not have been so unusual if he had not been falling for many hours. Not that he actually knew that it had been hours. He didn't have a watch and wherever he was falling had no sun or moon or digital clocks. He had never been able to read analog; it was one of Gabriel Valentines greatest failings. Gabriel Valentine was clumsy. He had been walking home from visiting his mother and had been in a foul mood. Mrs. Muriel Valentine had this effect on people, due to the fact that she possesed, in abundance(and probably also back o


ShortcutI. I have seen things so beautiful it hurts.Shortcut
II. She rolls down the hill and all things are forgiven and forgotten as the sky turns to clover.
III.
Oh, if only you could listen.
VI.
The building was so tall, the girl who jumped could have talked with God, if she had fancied it.
V.
He walked up the stairs, stopped, as if standing on the very edge of something, and then opened the door.
VI. On the bus yesterday, I realized that all people have mothers that cry for them and it almost broke my heart.
VII. And she hid behind


We are Nothing like NomadsHere we are again, kid,We are Nothing like Nomads
and we must leave our summer evening lovers with chapped lips and sweaty palmed goodbyes and we must leave again. But we are nothing like nomads who have a home in the salty sand or in the trees that sway
with flower smelling of warm thunder storm hearts. I hope they will head our words on the wall and not wash them away.


you are like summer.you are like summer when you walk shedding ice cream and fresh grass like chameleon skin braidingsunlight into the threads the strands of your dark hair with fragile hands. you leave swimming-pool footprints when you walk on hot cement, you sound like fireflies blinking on and off but mostly you glow.you are like summer.
you are like a violin when you dance too-short fingernails, passion in a black dress swaying back and forth, arms twirling, pretending you're brave enough to be on a stage those violent lights warm your cheeks to dark bitter pink, your hands are cold and white.
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