January 2010
11 posts
Now—Denis Johnson Whatever the foghorns are the voices of feels terrible tonight, just terrible, and here by the window that looks out on the waters but is blind, I have been sleeping, but I am awake now. In the night I watch how the little lights of boats come out to us and are lost again in the fog wallowing on the sea: it is as if in that absence not many but a single light gestures and...
Door in the Mountain—Jean Valentine Never ran this hard through the valley never ate so many stars I was carrying a dead deer tied on to my neck and shoulders deer legs hanging in front of me heavy on my chest People are not wanting to let me in Door in the mountain let me in
Never have I ever…
I’ll start…been abroad
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