Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
more childhood trauma and injury. lately i have been on a roll. A Walk on Sunday Between Crondolet and Forsyth, on Meramec, we could walk Continue reading Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
Two Wheels. One Dark Lord.
more childhood trauma and injury. lately i have been on a roll. A Walk on Sunday Between Crondolet and Forsyth, on Meramec, we could walk Continue reading Poem for Thursday – A Walk on Sunday
jonny’s monday was so happy he posted that at 9:03 pm. maybe you should get out of bed a little earlier jon. i mean come Continue reading first of all…
The Hemophiliac I don’t think that you can stop the bleeding. All that pressure you muster is only making things worse. The blood is beginning Continue reading pineapple’s poem for thursday – The Hemophiliac
i know that i put this up as a “prose-ish poem” a few monthes ago, but i just reworked it and now it is a Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Butter or pie
Judging for the Mustache Contest is Friday night at Pay n-Take. 7pm sharp. Come for the mustaches. Stay for the glory.
Lessons of our Childhood Remember the time the three of us played crack the whip and Greg crashed his bike so bad he had to Continue reading poem for thursday.
Glorious Days Abound. Getting the potato cannon out was a really good idea. We had been drinking for a couple of hours and had like Continue reading (not really) a poem for thursday.
big jonny is a in-line-sex-machine.
The Momentum There used to be a time in my life when the moment mattered. Now, nothing is moving. Everything is a steady motionlessness. More Continue reading poem for thursday…hey, i was busy.
here are a couple haikus 1. the whistle tips go whoo-whooooo, thats it and thats all. you need whistle tips. 2. the famous big jon, Continue reading poem for thursday
dont forget about the mustache contest. show up at the pay-n-take monday january 7th 2008 at 7pm freshly shorn. there will be a 5 dollar Continue reading mustache contest update…
Dealers of Death They all circled one big round table. The anticipation was alive in the spittle on their lips. No one was talking or Continue reading Thursday’s Poem – Dealers of Death