Alone in the attic. On the desk, her farewell note stained with coffee.
“What matters isn't the fact of dying or when you die. It's what you're doing at that precise moment -- I'm ready to be loved.”
winter drizzle...
my smoke rings
drifting
Published in Notes from the Gean, 4:1, June 2012
Cool Announcement: One Eye on the Road
-
*A Poet's Vacation Message*
My Dear Readers/Poets:
a sickle moon
...
