Monday, March 2, 2009


Brittle, falling out.
Jane Roe.
Swollen, bleeding.
Benedict Arnold.
Like a house in the heart of the Nickel City.
Still standing, one more storm.
Face first, into the burning cold.

1 comment:

  1. staygoldenstaygoldenstaygoldenstaygolden.
    come back, my love.
    i will read you bedtime poems and we'll snuggle up with crazy talk and thoughts of all
    the places we have yet to go.
    plus. we will have a library soon.
    blessed inspiration.
    it's been hiding far too long.