sugarcane, flood-bashed & ruined, dragged down like bodies in the field.
Little gray cells working. A brother shot in the head with a shotgun. A suicidally twilit childhood
"I'm down to 80 pounds and under my clothes like a starving prisoners from the Andersonville Civil War captives camp. I have a few wisps of hair left, which tend to stick out
the romance of prisoner of war
shot down flying kite-high. Now on the drug, Tarceva sounding like a Russian princess
in the kitchen door framed by magnolia their small cigarette burns.
down to 80 lbs hair sticking out wildly:
Rafters ringing wildly with Amens.