most of the brine has got to boil away most of the air has got to choke you most of june i spent in jail again i don’t mean jail exactly up in the pine tree a red squirrel looked down at me i am losing control of the language again i am losing control of the language again
most of the things i used to hold on to most of the things i used to say to you most of the ways i knew around the local roads are disappearing daily high in the cottonwood you were looking down at me and you sure looked good your hair hanging down in the leaves your neck tilted back to make a rainbow i was losing control of the language again i am losing control of the language again
1. create two converging trails of tiny, tiny cupcakes. like, really small. 2. rig up a box with a stick and a string tied to the stick, looney tunes-style. 3. lay in wait, preferably under cover of foliage 4. pounce like a tiger or a huntress figure/animal of your choosing
You do not have to be good. You do not have to walk on your knees For a hundred miles through the desert, repenting. You only have to let the soft animal of your body love what it loves. Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine. Meanwhile the world goes on. Meanwhile the sun and the…
YOU GUYS. I was sitting in Bex’s apartment and her neighbors were having a party. I heard what I thought was Levon Helm singing Springsteen’s “Atlantic City,” and I said to myself, “Did The Band cover ‘Atlantic City’? That’d be awesome.” One minute later I found out THAT MY DREAMS HAD COME TRUE.