Posts
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my mother is a liar
my mother is a liar but it's not her fault
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i don't know what you look like
there is something magical about the way you talk
the way you photograph flowers and libraries
the way you can geek out over beethoven for hours
the way you know how many times the snare drum plays
in maurice ravel's bolero -
falling, falling, fallen
i love how the phrase is 'falling in love'
like love is a place at which to be
like love is something that engulfs someone
a deep, dark hole scented with primroses and violets
a hole with smooth walls, slippery walls -
ferris wheel
we walked on the pier hand-in-hand many years ago
before either of us could remember clearly
there never used to be mosquitos here.
your hand in mine, i stand on the right side
of the narrow sidewalk and when -
Snowless season
I dream sometimes, of love and hate and snow. Here in California, where summers rage with endless flames, where each spring and autumn brings another dusty wind to my window, there isn't much to speak of.