Golf Show Minneapolis

While in town the night falls




Langue poetry, not even the poet who serves
borrows the language
cold bottles
to survive and wait
sunsets on the terrace of an old inn
tussle with homeless people and ghosts
soaked hands dirty tears.
not your baby needs from the original passion
who prefer the treetops
balances abysmal words.
not need to Agnes remained without a husband.
do not need to blackmail the priest who uses universal.
do not need the dog laying down the moon.
no use at night peeping degrade less discreet. You do not need
all'innamorato, damn poem,
what she understands the words that are never in a row,
beautiful and clean, safe, even when wrong, even when innocent
cruel, bloody poetry! * No need to
Olenin, the altar boy dumb
caressing the keys of the organ, while
Marjanka * play in the garden. Ah,
know how to sing the poetry-think-ah,
able to sing!





* protagonists of the story of Leo Tolstoy's "The Cossacks"

Soul Silver Repatched English Rom For Mac

Bulletin urban






survives in the evening after the usual war between
forecast
and parking lots on the outskirts of the heart.
In the squares, the romantic
-nodes to loose patience-

dampen the roundness of a story that has long

against rolling direction.

A new beat accompanies the hours
screpitio steps enthusiastic
misty twilight.

The echo of the rhythm
attacks itself bone
the axle reluctance
then I find myself running through the park
desolate
-back without regret-it-yourself
to reduce the distances between the infamy

tears of fear and unconsciously force of fate put them together-e-
frappondendo
one thousand gestures with hands clumsy
ooze Appendix dreams.

Smell Dead Mouse In Wall

Greetings

The Archeoclub of Italy Trinitapoli wishes everyone a Merry Christmas and happiness for the next 2011.

The Nativity 's Czechoslovakian illustrator Štěpán Zavrel,
Museum Zavrel Sarmede (TV)

Twisted Bowel In A Baby

Cityscape Prayer Jazz



________________________________________per JK



I never dared to talk about you do not know

pace with spirit and truth


Sometimes the discomfort of a day I won
we recall-like visions
addictive iconographic
your hands swollen
expectations, whiskey
successes mystifying

and cry, and only then please
antiquity
of your 48 years of resistance.

Spironolactone Muscle Cramps

Returns;
scribbles on pages already torn. It keeps

spilled into her eyes, and embroidery
songs
lies as mythology.

bike parked in the rain.

The wind carries away the umbrellas
the ladies from the colored clothes. There are gestures as

boxes of gifts already discarded
life and waiting
in a marriage against nature

, Gypsy musicians from Santa Claus hats.

gray afternoon by suddenly

like in the movies black and white-papers
to puff here and there
inside and outside the Cafe
rants I see adolescents

in kisses while stopped raining here and there

kindled the street lamps.

* The man who laughs in a dark park.








* Victor Hugo's masterpiece