My friend greg came last week to document the flowers that hover in my yard every may.
: D
Ye
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Sarah Jean is one of my favorite writers living or dead. She is also one fuck yeah of an artist. This is her head on a cat body. She one time wrote this thing about birds that only a cat could write.
Love Birds
Bus doodle
I Wish I Lived In A Hotel
I loved my Emerald City of a hotel in the mountains of New Jersey. I wish I could live here. There’s a wishing fountain in the lobby filled with quarters that shine like giant diamonds deep in the sea. I used to wish that I would be happy or that everyone would be happy. But for three days I will ride downstairs in my socks and I will wish to be strong. Strong Strong Strong. I will be strong. I will be the strongest person ever even after time ends. Nothing except me and the burning rock I was born on.
i just have to get this out
Someone on the radio was describing a baseball player as poetry in motion and I actually saw a baseball player in central park who really was poetry in motion. He was like a 8 year old boy playing catch with his father and he hurt his fathers hand and his father called him my love.
Don’t Say I Embarrass You You Embarrass Me
Before I smashed my mother’s brick N brack, there wasn’t enough broken glass on the floor not to cut my feet. Now we have a carpet of glass and we are all a family of glass walkers. I also set the floor on fire so we are a family of fire walkers, too.
Just DON’T SCARE THEM By:
Saying FISH LEATHER to any animal ever
Complain to a cat that we can’t all be 12 pounds soaking wet
Say one animal is cuter than another animal (even if it’s true)
Suddenly putting on a hat
Smelling like dead dogs
Singing if you don’t know how to sing
Sneezing
Losing love
Having babies
Baltimore Woman
Killed
In Central Park
By Bird Watchers
Her last words were
Nobody cares
Where I come from
I mean
Where I come from
Nobody cares
Plans For New York:
Pet every dog I see.
I Am Made Of Mulberry Leaves And Dew
I am tied up in ropes made of moth eaten silk. If the moths chew through, Will you come to my funeral? What about my heaven? If you come, bring me a flower arrangement in the shape of a gun so I can play cowgirl and Indians with angels. If you do this, I will thank you. I will make it rain chunks of flowers for days. How many roses must die before you are happy? How many roses will die before I am happy, too? Don’t feel bad about this. Their petals will last forever like footprints on the moon. I promise.
