Life is a series of tragedies with… But what is good for those who suf… than what is good for those who do… —for Brian Salvador Curley

dying of cancer saying her prayers they came to bathe her she asked if would hold her Rosary… “of course”

Charles with his typewriter and bottles a bluebird held hostage in his hea… all the women he wanted all the jobs he didn’t

our savings accounts cry out for m… but we only have so much to give coins jingling away in the pocket a few dirty fives in the wallet the shelves are in need of grocery

dehydrated my heart became small hardened by the air of hopelessnes… with a little time and some water it has grown and changed

that is another man’s suicide if i kill myself there will be hookers

when she doesn’t love you the guts are pulled out from insid… life spills from the bones and your heart forgets to beat you become a ghost

peering into your eyes i am trying to understand you hoping to know you a little better with each glance when the world is mad

love digs graves all around the world but i used to

black shirts worn at day they spoke mostly of music bonded by the odd

his wife came in to the video store i work at today i knew who she was by the last name on her Oregon i.d…

going out for Golden Gloves when i was a teenager i trained as hard as anyone paid close attention to the scienc… my coach

monuments of song returned to life in my hands records from dead men

i began to tell a grim story of a puppy left alone beneath an overcast sky at first i saw a lost dog sad and without