I look at you lying with me in bed and when you look back at me, my chest feels warm. I have to squeeze you, but I don’t want ever
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Open your mouth and inhale The freshly mowed grass dirt, soil It’s all clean A cool breeze and a tight squeeze Through the center of the earth Earth Set up
My search for truth is frustrated How often have you played the lyre? The role of the goddess changes until there is a heartless soul, then nothing – same song
On a Typical Night Sparks shoot off the train through the gray, grey morning The whorehouse feels the burning and the fire consumes the liquor store. Until the pistols swell
Carefree days can’t make up for careless ways. So if it is too hot – drop it Or you freeze with the pain of the heat So cold it burns
I suddenly understand that you are not sweating from my body and I start to remember the way you squeezed me so close to your hips, to you. Your body
The summer days turn into nights And summer nights dissolve But keep breathing The seasons roll by and summer returns. In, Soft edges of golden light, Float through your chest
Something takes a part of me when I see you Old, almost forgotten demons haunt me And I see that you are not alone But you never see me when
Iraq is in the prayers of the world, while America is burned and shot down. The untouchables sell their Indian goods to Katie and Jocelyn. Communicating across cultures Bush-isms preach
Salads should be delicious, easy to make and mostly – never boring, especially since cucumbers are so versatile. The French term, “Faire simple” (keep it simple) captures this salad perfectly