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.”
Corruption and conspiracy for the win
-
2.
"It's all a fake," says S at the guard shack. "He's alive and living in
Israel." "But those women," I say, "their lives were completely messed up,
deca...
1 day ago
