That’s Her
That’s her. That is her. Time doesn’t spoil the spirit. It cracks the cocoon That is her body open. That’s her. That is her. The wind won̵...
That’s her. That is her. Time doesn’t spoil the spirit. It cracks the cocoon That is her body open. That’s her. That is her. The wind won̵...
And now I remember. It’s like the first breath. Past troubled lives. Over shards of painted idols roughly hewn By a dumb craftsman. I’m with you now...
Wash it all away. Into the quiet … Hush. I stand before my God. What else was I seeking?
It was fun. Then it wasn’t.
A train passes, cries. Sobbing new life throbs within once quiet hills.
Rain falls. Even these words are wet and soaking. A fog rises and obsures the past. The crust of past experience. But sometimes I remember how it used to be.
Dominique Manfredi sat outside at a corner table at The White Peacock Café. He had just ordered two eggs (sunny side up), toast with raspberry marmalade, espres...
I remember there were trees, And shadows And the smell of wet grass And tiny ripe berries That my Mom said were poisonous, So that I wouldn’t eat them. An...