“A poet is a nightingale, who sits in darkness and sings to cheer its own solitude with sweet sounds.” -Percy Bysshe Shelley
Sunday, April 5, 2020
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Doom and Bloom
And we wake up to a new day, the world crumbling around us. We try to put the pieces together, nothing makes sense- or fits- and yet everyt...

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1. Of my Soul a street is: Preternatural Pic- abian tricktrickclickflidk-er garner of starfish Picasso...
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Today seems like a good day to burn a bridge or two. The sky resembles a backlit canopy with holes punched in it. In California...
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This world is not for breath for feelings also come and go. As hard and light as Push and pull Go. Busy hands and bees-electricity, alter...
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