| beautiful artists . . . . . * check 'em out. |


greetings from tofinoit's as simple as smoking a joint outside the coffeeshop where we work a couple of milkcrates under us watching the kids in the fruit market next door trying to hoola-hoop around the tourists who are swooning over slices of freshly cut watermelongreetings from tofino
it's here i've met the most free living
even as the great pacific pushes us inwards relentlessly crashing around the esowista peninsula
people seem to speak in
longer tongues tales are miles tall they all have feathers in their fingertips and no one can explain how they've washe


art on pillsstripes of teal wallpaper wasting down the sides of the mildew covered wallsart on pills
your
delirious head is resting in a pool of greying water
on the bathroom floor next to the used q-tips
and all that
lost brown hair
the colour scheme is spectacular
your dark eyes match the bits of floating massacre
dancing in the toilet bowl the pale greens
the sticky yellows
the whole room seems to be spinning in harmony
you heave and another painting is quickly slugged out just as sparkling and bril


Tales of the City.The basement skeletons and their tragic waitresses drag their harpsichord lungs and jukebox telepathy to porcelain oblivion. Delighting in taxicab obscenity and craving nightmares, or any excuse to see only cloudy days. Battered midnight fastens lonely windowsills and starving firetrucks. The pavement detectives observe every click. Money shines brighter than the sun, and theres a psychotherapist stationed in every bedroom. Evenings bring static amnesia, a hungry womb. The rooftop concubine charges for electricity. Vocabularies ooze through the soil of every landfill. The cemeteries are vibrating mythology, immortal and all thatsTales of the City.


Sylvia, Cut Her Down.these days i only dance in libraries my fingers waltzing to every secret my lips dipping to syllable foxtrot. my dreams are turning vampires into lovers baby meat as the main course while the bluebird hides beneath the thicket. i cannot buy my twin back cannot make eye contact with anything that proposesSylvia, Cut Her Down.
an easy escape, a timeless solution. the tree bends to every absence knots at the sight of empty chairs surfaces chipped by silence. the balancing act was a tightrope for an octopus, a cathedral ceiling for a phoenix. slice off the roots
of your


Yesterday I Saw the BiggestYesterday I saw the biggest snowflakes I ever have. I was on the phone with you, as I seem to be a lot These days, at least.Yesterday I Saw the Biggest
And I thought Maybe they'll delay my flight or Maybe I'll drown when it melts and I prayed for the first time in years.
I keep remembering when we found those possums &


Your Poem Is Not Better Than+Your Poem Is Not Better Than
My sister is currently having an affair with a cashier at Walgreen's. This cashier, when I walked up to him, my arms filled with condoms and eggs, said I seemed
like a very ironic person. I have to wonder about that, and if he has ever felt similar. He is wearing a necktie
and this seems almost normal, but we are in Walgreen's
and he is a cashier, so I know that something is wrong.
The lady behind me is making little whispers that he is
the guy who was picked up by the school yard and
probably touched that littl
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| rediscovery ; reinvention ; repeat (forever) |
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