Poems from LoonChaser
It is by these preserved roads
that children lay their woven reeds
among hilltops where fighting
hopeless fell among the grass as did...
round about the time i was 17
i was kickin up a racket down in new orleans
harp around my neck and strings gripped tight
i was slappin out...
in the strawberry fields
underneath the stars
where i met my love
moving too fast
never felt so right with her
forming a constelation
two...
auntie why did you have to die
why cant i say goodbye
your in my dreams every night
i know that it must be a sign
you love me and i love...
when i think of moist
i think of the inside of a dying whale
when i think of moist
i think of a sweaty sack on a humid day
when i think of...