When my feet are on the ground.

If you just had some idea. Here comes the goodbye look.

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.

A garden of expression, grown among the stones of the Brooklyn streets. A fall from the sky day. Watched by the eyes of those. Who would burn us while sleeping,. Our blue sky of freedom. And ordianry, in daylight. A hooded young man crouches. I long for my city. And my dreams of this city. I came full of hope.