whirligirl we know what we want,
we cannot have what we want,
we cannot will to what we want,
we hope that the new situation will come
and we make do with what we have.
on the farmer's fields, on the broad flat plains.
sphinxradio sometimes i just enjoy the beauty of a barren scene and the way light reflects across it.
landscape of light. ooh. that could be someone else's poem.
Casey like a swamp or a wasteland, they're good 020403
nomme i don't know what i was

thinking brush
nom the sky ran off the stage
frightened by the jumping cow
jane thoughtscape
Death of a Rose this is dangerous,
too shell shocked
to create coherent
thought meant for
drum beats
in the thumping
of the ramparts
escape into madness
slide along this
sequential barrier
watching the bullshit
fly along the corridor
of my own disbelief
everything in nothing
anything in something
reduction of meeting
another dangerous situation
ferna I love the landscape of my body. The way my stomach softly curves. I feel soft and yielding, firm and strong. I wish my body were ten times larger, so my body could be a plain, rolling and elastic. Touch me. I will yield and spring back. Feel the fine fur on my stomach, the grains of dark hair where my thigh meets my cunt. The cords of muscle in my back. 070309
what's it to you?
who go