Tag: Roswell
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Drawing blank French bread on a typical Thursday after a harsh rainstorm. Sometimes I feel empty. Sometimes I feel as if my soul is an unbodied mortal shell, a cistern with but a drop of water. Whatever can I gather from that? This. Wayward thoughts. Banana leaves. Golden taco trucks…
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The low machine hum of the big, big city is entrenched in gaslight dawn. The birds and the killers are mum, waiting for the razor light of god’s heart to percolate and breed as the handmade souls rise, wash and run. And it was a hot day in the desert,…
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CEREAL AFTER SEX 