mcmori
mutual relations shared experience let's exchange the experience like a kate bush song so few things in this world are reciprocated and genuine.
the colored letter don't suffice words on words and words never concise all foreign attempts to offer advice to the someone I used to be. man's questions are just another man's questions and advice is irrelevant.
last night a man called me on the phone and spoke of his conviction. i was not sure what he was trying to say or who he really was but he said he might have to go away for a long time and it sounded like a script on foreign human connection.
the stacks are the term we use at my radio station to describe the location of the 20,000 cds we play. also like the bon iver song re:stacks your love will be safe with me and so on and suchforth
iron metal prongs like cold steel only hot and silver like a disco dress that i saw once in the window of a thrift store. it struck me dead like it was from the closet of some mother turned waitress from the good old days. the days of sunny fields and hidden beer cans and smoking out car windows, your scarf ends trailing in the wind