The pieces that fall apart
The skin between my thumb and forefinger on my right hand is dry and cracked and flaking. Tonight, more than most nights, I need to immerse myself in music. Desolation Row and Tangled Up in Blue; Sitting and 18th Avenue; Vienna and Piano Man. It's only the pieces that fall apart, you know? I'll be fine tomorrow.
May 9th, 2008 at 10:07 pm
You write beautifully. I think your site would do well with a link to my blog and/or poetry blog.
Also, this is my new poetry blog: terra forma.