Everything dies in whispers of
great forlorn abundance

What with all the pain and politic
we carry
to be then liberated
by memory of ourselves
in another

Manic whiskey babe’s heart is served on a silver platter, bloody and pumping, to be feasted on in a Telegraph hill apartment

Do you love the sea?he asked me, in the front seat of Sandy, the jeep Cherokeehe doesn’t usually name things but she was so clearly Sandy just like […]