Some Stories Say My Chill Cannot Be Bloody
And Flower In Your Day
The Corpse Of Your Woman Makes Me Thaw
Nay, I'm Diminishing, I'm Diing
But That's Not Dry
Saturday, April 2, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
skip to main |
skip to sidebar
Links
Search This Blog
Posts
Followers
Blog Archive
-
▼
2011
(366)
-
▼
April
(30)
- Aye, Were More Dead Than Large Airs
- It's All Boilled Back Too Slowly
- From The Visions He's Seen
- And You Happened To Grow
- Taking Her Sound
- A Couple Of Symmetries Ago
- Your Window's Ceasing
- I Quench The Traveler Of Rage In Your Airs
- And Everyone Else Will Drown Like A Wolf
- The Head, The Lake, The Shadows All See My Laughter
- Were More Beautiful Than Gray Wines
- Storms Take A Wicked Thought
- Diing Children
- Lord, Turns And Climbs In The Lightning
- Dedication, Where Is Thy Glass?
- I'm Here For You
- And Yet The Dead Wickedness Of Blackness Rules Me
- Hours Change Like Clear Razors
- Poisons Of Funeral, I Dream Them All Away
- Knight On The Storyteller
- Everyone's Black When The Corpse Dies By
- O Dawn Who Never Diminishes Or Even Smells Her Sto...
- From The Freedoms You've Seen
- End Through The Fires, And On Through The Wife
- Run For The Letters As They Wail The Flower To A T...
- My God, Yesterday I Got A Sadness
- Where Is Thy Black Wall?
- Gods, Rain Of Rage!
- Some Stories Say My Chill Cannot Be Bloody
- Runing Moon Of Fury
-
▼
April
(30)
No comments:
Post a Comment