Below the Peach Tree
A child is born, swaddled in fur and kindness
I, Trust
Shadows slide over the earth, leaving and returning and leaving and descending
Julius Caesar
Brutus is the tragic hero of that play. It isn’t Caesar, ‘cause he dies
Incomplete
Do you know that feeling that swells up in your chest, and it kind of feels like gas, but it’s an emotional gas
In Their Small Faces
she would do all she could so that her little coterie of sons would be always, always surrounded by fun, forever alive and ceaselessly in motion
Pompeii Again
unattainable the head but / how important a high / hungry sleep
