Random


Isn’t that neon dog

in the gymnasium window

the cousin of a two

headed frog you made

love to in the falling

Asian rain, just after

Jimmy was blown away?

You made the rain

You made the rain

You made the fallen

Angel rain

 

After death, with Vicki Jo on the front porch swing: John Knoll

 

Black milk of daybreak we drink you at night we drink in the mornings at noon we drink you at nightfall drink you and drink you A man in the house he plays with the serpents he writes he writes when the night falls to Germany your golden hair Margarete Your ashen hair Shulamith we are digging a grave in the sky it is ample to lie there  -Fugue of Death: Paul Celan

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Author: Kirtana K

I paint and make music and blog like a maniac. These days I try to run. But I have chicken legs and lungs the size of two-rupee balloons. I fail. I like pajamas and striped socks and books that read like song and songs that sound like poetry and strangers who read this page. And Maggi when I'm sick or cold or sad or celebrating. They'll find noodles in my veins if ever they cut me open. And potatoes. And maybe a tiny bit of whiskey. I'll be an Unidentified Living Object and they'll put my insides on display. It will be crazy. It will be awesome. It will.

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