oh luck is green "and i'd like to commend you on doing a fine job of suppressing your animal lusts lately" thank you? 010725 ... pralines&cream "Um, i'm kind of having feelings for someone else ... and I think that [despite the fact that I promised to love you forever and ever and have sex like animals with you and share your bed and bear your children and massage your sore muscles and shower with you and kiss your body every day and play footsies in bed and trace your face until you fall asleep and give you my heart and body and soul] we should take a break from each other." 020206 ... nom how i love 070109 ... anne sexton It is snowing and death bugs me as stubborn as insomnia. The fierce bubbles of chalk, the little white lesions settle on the street outside. It is snowing and the ninety year old woman who was combing out her long white wraith hair is gone, embalmed even now, even tonight her arms are smooth muskets at her side and nothing issues from her but her last word - "Oh." Surprised by death. It is snowing. Paper spots are falling from the punch. Hello? Mrs. Death is here! She suffers according to the digits of my hate. I hear the filaments of alabaster. I would lie down with them and lift my madness off like a wig. I would lie outside in a room of wool and let the snow cover me. Paris white or flake white or argentine, all in the washbasin of my mouth, calling, "Oh." I am empty. I am witless. Death is here. There is no other settlement. Snow! See the mark, the pock, the pock! Meanwhile you pour tea with your handsome gentle hands. Then you deliberately take your forefinger and point it at my temple, saying, "You suicide bitch! I'd like to take a corkscrew and screw out all your brains and you'd never be back ever." And I close my eyes over the steaming tea and see God opening His teeth. "Oh." He says. I see the child in me writing, "Oh." Oh, my dear, not why. 080312 ... thank you 080312 what's it to you? who go blather from