119 3 2
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Reading for a crowd one evening I felt/ the women’s eyes kissing my temples and/ neck, sucking my earlobes and lower lip.
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103600
|
We dig up conscience-tunnels, pluck the play-flower of present choice for fun, run aground, past this dimly lit, though not to be underestimated, stage, and open door upon empty door, to nothing, for the lights are a pulse flickering in the perceptual per
|
99821
|
That dude takes method-acting to a whole new level. Ever seen a teenager bust a homeless man’s nose to understand a role?
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9996
|
In the uncommon
solitude
Of
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