I haven't written anything on this blog lately, but that doesn't necessarily mean I'm dead. I am recovering from stomach flu, however, which is the next best thing. I was at least going to show you another one of my canadian rabbits before I crawl back into bed, but Bloogle won't allow it today, for some reason. So how about a found poem instead?
“We sight cast to tailing reds
a 25-inch west-side
caught on a popper. Waters
support double digit days,
vast unpressured flats,
thick seagrass meadows.”
"AOC. What's that?"
-
Two guys, one covered in tatts, talked loudly next to the tourist vans they
drive, while their tourists were at the temple. Something about taxes, then
"n...
2 weeks ago
