Tuesday, November 30, 2010
Friday, November 26, 2010
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
Monday, November 22, 2010
Sunday, November 21, 2010
Saturday, November 20, 2010
Friday, November 19, 2010
Tuesday, November 16, 2010
Sunday, November 14, 2010
Do you remember your first real love? I'd have to say in all honesty that it was Jeff Riley. I used to try to kiss him every day in Kindergarten. He was fair of face, funny, and diplomatic. My feelings carried all the way to middle school where we shared a table in art class. Every morning we sat there and talked, laughed about stupid things . . . until he asked me to GO with him (like going steady) and I thought he was joking. I really gave it to him and things were never the same.
Saturday, November 13, 2010
Thursday, November 11, 2010
Wednesday, November 10, 2010
Tuesday, November 9, 2010
Sunday, November 7, 2010
Thursday, November 4, 2010
Good Cowboy Lost
Bookstore Cowboy; wind-thrashed hair;
Good Cowboy lost; eyes that never stare
behind Truman Capote glasses
and me with my five-dollar Matisse.
Why do you wait behind those black circles?
What would happen if you sought?
Would the dam—the damn dam—crumble,
Wash, Erupt, Engulf, Arouse, Envelop, Morph,
Flow over toward everything and everyone?
Those Capotes would float,
and the Matisse,
the damn Matisse,
Good Cowboy lost, sunlight and day;
out of the shadows we pass,
one going this, and the other
photo credit: Jeanne Menjoulet Trump visiting French Republic via photopin (license) This is partly my own thoughts with a spark fr...
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