shepard fairey



ras

ras

ras


ras

ras

ras

ras

gustav dore

our boys

death and burial

wm

Saturday, January 5, 2008

Every Now And Then


my loyal fans deserve a poem like a moss-covered canal;
a phosphor-streaked, pollen-flecked slab of ink that
sights in the single wisteria petal falling through the furiously thronging
crowd of no-see-ums, just above there where
it cuts me off

at the knees.


No comments: