(haiku/tanka)
midnight revolvers
pick their triggers from the oaks
of splintered forests;
a teflon breath for the moon
to elude those shooting stars.
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2008
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October
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- w.w.j.d. (when would jesus do?)
- save your-polaroid/self
- you carried god like a bouquet of balloons
- red-rose revolver
- the 1-2 step guide to: getting nowhere
- just can't count on sheep
- the wrong Brooklyn
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- the baboon flutist
- i love maybe?
- , said the shotgun to the head
- i want to color
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- the art of speaking
- midnight revolvers
- black sheep abacus [Act Ø: Scene XII]
- virgin mary: surrogate
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