Although She Was Giddy With Exhaustion, Sleep

She Was Sitting Cross-legged On Her Bed In Her White Kimono, Writing In A Notebook With An Ink Pen She Dipped In A Bottle. 'never Let A Man Stay The Night,' She Told Me. 'dawn Has A Way Of Casting A Pall On Any Night Magic.' The Night Magic Sounded Lovely. Someday I Would Have Lovers And Write A Poem After.

Most People Use Twenty Verbs To Describe Everything From A Run In Their Stocking To The Explosion Of An Atomic Bomb. You Know The Ones: Was, Did, Had, Made, Went, Looked... One-size-fits-all Looks Like Crap On Anyone. Sew Yourself A Custom Made Suit. Pick A Better Verb. Challenge All Those Verbs To Really Lift Some Weight For You.

Echo, The Death Of A Sound That Had Nowhere To Go But To Come Back.

When I Read, I Want To Be Fully Transported To Another Place. I Want To Feel Things, Smell Things.

It's Not That He Was Going Nowhere, It's That He'd Already Arrived.