our reflection pool
in the last few days it seems that DC has turned into our collective reflection pool. it’s the world wide web version of that lake Continue reading our reflection pool
Author Archives: Pineapple
yet another use for a dead coyote.
here is a little press about some fellows (and ladies) i used to roll with in STL. seriously, he is right in the middle off Continue reading yet another use for a dead coyote.
a last ditch effort…
just think what you’re going to miss john… courtesy of fiddy, we got a little blanket in a bottle. see you in tucson.
open letter to big johnny
dear big john… i used to have so much respect for you (and by “so much respect” i mean very little respect), but after our Continue reading open letter to big johnny
poem for Thursday…
The Wagon I sat in the front seat, she was driving. On a small back road we passed an Idaho farm. Mostly dust now, and Continue reading poem for Thursday…
looker.
hey jaun, quit looking at my boner, it makes me feel uncomfortable. this picture was taken on my recent trip to fossil creek. i was Continue reading looker.
poem for thursday.
Nowhere to be. The crowd is closing in, grouping like a stockyard. Elbows are bumping, some hand grazed my hip. The air is getting thicker, Continue reading poem for thursday.
things are good…
i have been busy. i drive around a lot and do my best to make people happy (or at least not mad), and i dont Continue reading things are good…
citrawipe. from heaven or hell?
jaun grande and i were sitting around over at drunk-cyclist HQ when we heard the familiar sound of the postman. we looked at each other Continue reading citrawipe. from heaven or hell?
poem for thursday
Signature Move I went home for a funeral. My Grandfather just died, and the weekend was going to be difficult. Troy thought it might cheer Continue reading poem for thursday
recently i went to austin…
recently the wife and i went to austin to share in the ever so pleasant nuptials of two friends. this is us (mostly me) on Continue reading recently i went to austin…
poem for thursday…
Sunday Afternoon We were laying in the warm green grass of our backyard. Sort of shaped like a right angle. My hand holding hers gently Continue reading poem for thursday…