When my feet are on the ground.

Straightforward Poems for Straightforward People. A poem about the artmore hotel. I could never love a woman who does not write poems.

When I got into writing, it was mainly just a sex thing. When I got into writing, it was mainly just a sex thing. When I got into writing it was mainly just a sex thing. Because guys who knew how to string together a poem got me wet between the legs. There are some terrible truthseveryone has to face.

You know, I know. The devil shaking in my legs knows. White stripes in the wood. I used to think church. Was the place to feel the spirit. When my spirit was light, but. As I got older, my spirit. Looked to clinging, to hover. In the fringes of the bowels. Of the dark and desperate. Hells we call out nature. Tonight, Hell is on. Hell is a court with the.

Blogging for the well-read and ill-at-ease. Coming Soon, My Blog! Ninety Four Two Forty Nine. A World in Her Own Words. C ities of Tiny Lights. A Small Circle of Friends. Welcome to A Small Circle of Friends. A blogging group for the well-read and the ill-at-ease.

A place for my silly poems, etc. The world is a sunset. Is the mist, rising. I feel love is numbered. Who is there for me? I look at you, thought. Put tomorrow out of your mind. You look like the kind of guy. When she was still fresh and pretty.

And in those dayswhen we would wander in the woods,your hand would findmy secret places.

Tangy poetry from Shona! Originally posted on Shona. Burrs the back of the throat. Originally posted on tarnation and eudemonia. Every time we made love. I would take off my life like a coat. Fold it neatly over a chair. Like I expected to return to it in the morning.