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| any colour |
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| copp hears the fish dying. |
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| haunting hounds of love. |
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| i like it here. |
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| it could have been different but it is. |
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| love extend me. but he was alone. |
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| memorial wreathe for the dying fish. |
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| love in tones |
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| o mother of od said he heathen. |
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| pearl lopate |
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| penultimatum. it's a hit. |
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| please.please get up. |
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| tiny synaptic eclipses |
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| the somnolent winter fishes are suffocating in the hollowed lagoon. |
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| i withdraw. |
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| touched in the head. by angel. |
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| we make desperate memories now. |
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| what we would choose was not a consideration then and later we never considered what we would choose. |
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| you dont have to be naive but if i like you. |
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| you know i can't honey, but i'm fine. i'm here. |
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