"I was an 8,"
She said,
Sitting on a parparet,
reading a map of downtown.
"I was a 9,"
He said,
Fumbling for a cigarette,
On shaky legs
In the morn.
Two old faces
Pressed in cement.
A hand-done engraving
on a french armoire chest.
Bodily noises, sun-flowered poses--
to the beat of a broken drum
"Hush," she said, a smile playing on her lips,
Its time to crawl back to bed.
-- Daveed L.
Sunday, February 27, 2011
Saturday, February 26, 2011
Friday, February 25, 2011
Tuesday, February 22, 2011
Monday, February 21, 2011
Sunday, February 20, 2011
The Ramblings of Daveed L.
"Two lovers move the sea
in a testament
to reverie
I know I've been wrong
I know I won't pay my dues
I know that I no longer count
but I just want some honey,
to warm this cup of tea"-- Daveed L.
in a testament
to reverie
I know I've been wrong
I know I won't pay my dues
I know that I no longer count
but I just want some honey,
to warm this cup of tea"-- Daveed L.
Saturday, February 19, 2011
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