In a sinking ship, under tons of sand

You kissed me on the mouth; I felt your lips on mine for months afterward	Her fluidity under a thin sheet	We are trapped in the belly of this horrible machine, and the machine is bleeding to death	Turtle
Big huge booms and the lights from the ships off shore	House of Blue Leaves	Pink lemonade, Clementine, I don't want to leave this place without you	A delicate and lovely monster was hiding behind the fronds
Ruminations on a childhood lost to expectations	Unborn to-morrow and dead yesterday, why fret about them if today be sweet!	There's no better mirror than a child	Seeing too much blue
In the midst of life we are in death	March 25, 2003	Sacred ground a long way from nowhere	Might be like leftovers. Would not taste the same, however sweet.
A hollow feeling	Red birds will fly out of the east and destroy Paris in a night	Accipiter	Ask the Dust
The end of Zen	Civilization and its Discotheques

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