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i looked for inspiration under the pillowand as you’d guess it wasn’t there either,the whir of the news plays in the backgroundand grandpa..
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twins look in the mirror,uneasy likeness turnsoddly shaped lone treeson two separate sepia hillsdiverge in growth,both prone to solitude,a shared memo..
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the wind rages todaylike wild cats fightingall my poems of you fall shortthe sun a constanti drink less nowbut you aren’t hereto say that you ap..
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Another day in the desert.No inspiration, no plans for the day. The four walls, don’t even turn into a well spring of water. No. Nope. No mirage..
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we move on while the past stands like fading trees on a winding road we look behind in an effort to scrape together some of what was left..
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I painted again, each stroke silent agonyand these words, an empty wailing - the kind that makes your ears curl. I silenced this part of myself with ..
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We were in a maze of
forest.
Everywhere dead wood
and tree.
A tree had fallen over a creek
stretching all the way
across it -
with a gi..
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The sun flooding the earth with its last breath before it sets.Mt.Diablo dimmed quietallows sun to impregnate the land.Purple clouds over greenfields ..
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I am not hindered bymy past; though it exists, a hollow bodiedmirror head. So does the white sununsteadily,the light ricochets off the houses and puts..
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I used to sit on the leaf piled porch and write.The air would be thick with paintings of you. For whatever reason I was always looking at the street l..
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