we can wear the morning air like a jacket and move deep into those bright
Life is a series of tragedies with… But what is good for those who suf… than what is good for those who do… —for Brian Salvador Curley
i wanted to vote but looking at the ballot i wondered “for what?”
Charles with his typewriter and bottles a bluebird held hostage in his hea… all the women he wanted all the jobs he didn’t
you drag a soul around in a body and some nights it’s a bag of bricks wondering if there’s anything left to dream for
dying to stay in tune they rattle eagerly to play one last song
monuments of song returned to life in my hands records from dead men
i think about her at least once every day i think about all the different st… that i could take to get to her ho…
race against midnight an eleventh hour dash for the quick finish
to the deepest thirst a drop of water looks like a rains… over a rushing river lips moisten with hope and the heart drowns with sheer re…
he looks off into the distance as if god exists waiting beyond the winds with some kind of answer he looks on dating sites
let me brave myself for another da… for i am convinced that out there… worthy of all the pangs in the pil… let me have the strength to bear t… this face
she loved him before when life was a game he played and she loves him still
streets become narrow and sidewalks vanish layers are important heavy socks and the right pair of boots
the way mom and aunt kim would get… when the video would come on mtv i thought “that’s the life for me” singing for the working class
