slow songs

Tonight I study my water hands, tracing mounds and plains from the heart line's beginnings beneath the middle finger, terminating where mercury meets outer mars, to the quick crease of fate lost between Luna and Venus.

There are supposed to be six suites for unaccompanied cello inside this sleeve.

Not long ago, I found an interesting outpost while staggering down the information superhighway.

Yesterday a stillborn cyclone scattered strips of hollow gold everywhere I looked.

"The quality or quirk you most wish you could wash away is exactly the thing that's going to make someone fall in love with you," she said, admiring insects no one else could see.

The email from his boss read: "Thank you for the fruit bowel.

There are so many people here writing such beautiful things.

This question has always baffled me a bit.

There is a tear in the terra firma, the ground baked brown and gold where green should be.

I was raised Roman Catholic, but I haven't seen the inside of a church in almost half as long as I've been alive.