"hiked" poems
learned to play guitar
and even learned a new song
played music for money
spent time with my family
busted a string playing guitar
lost a friend
fell in love
climbed a mountain
sat on a waterfall
saw a palm tree
walked along the beach in fog
breathed salty air
swam in the ocean
discovered a fruit
saw a gay pride parade
camped in the Redwoods
fireworks exploded right above my head
made love on a cold starry night
played in sand
hiked down highway 101
slept on a boat in the bay
skinny dipped in a lake
and had *** on a train
Nov 3, 2014
Nov 3, 2014 at 7:52 PM UTC
Camping in the Blue Ridge Mountains
was the greatest day of my life
It was my birthday
I brought a suitcase
and my favorite dame
and hiked 2 miles UP^^^^^^^^
laughing all the way
UP ^^^^^in the Ozarks
Medics were shooting steroids in my ****
BUT, never been more in love
with a man who injects grief in my veins
Dwelling in the Sangre de Cristo Mountains
sensed his vibe
Yes, Jesus I feel you here
held en el Rio Grande con mis mejor amigos
drooling in the hot springs
Taos has called our names
********* the rocky sand that is below me
I find a coin from New Zealand,
in turn, losing my evil eye earring
an offering to spirit's stream
a pair of desert lizards
we desire to get frisky and be alone
we shine silver glitter under a moonlit glow
witches cackle and curanderos
hide behind coyote cries and cacti
looking to each other with faces expressing,
"What should do we do?"
I guess allow them to do their thing
humans need ceremonies too
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 1:36 AM UTC
*I stopped by for a cigarette and to hear a story
He always told the tale of one eyed molly
She lost her eye
In a fight with a dog
The moral of the story was
Never trust something
Just because it may look harmless,
Even act harmless
But this day he told me another tale
The one of old Lumberjack Dale*
He was large like an ogre
Chopped too many trees to know of
Was stupid according to my uncle
This gave me quite a chuckle
He left off, on a normal morning
Hiked up the mountain
To where the clear dirt’s mourning
Held his axe and began to swing
The trees didn't have a prayer
He thought he was king
One fell down
He yelled "TIMBER"
Another smacked the ground
He Yelled "TIMBER"
Then another
and
Another
Birds were scattering
Squirrels were flying
The sounds were of a madman grunting through fire
"TIMBER"
The fifth hit the ground
The lumberjack ogre
Had to sit down
He swung one too many times, on this here day
The mountain swung back with a black bear, ok?
Protecting her cubs she wrestled the big man
Teeth in his arm and his axe in his hand
He squinted his eyes and flung the weapon
Missing the giant bear standing about 6' 11"
The mountain whispered to the lumberjack
"Leave and never come back"
He had ****** his pants and ran for the shack
"TIMBER"
The old black bear followed
Protecting her land
And the ones she adored
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 9:13 AM UTC
You laughed
when my sleeve hiked up
"Oh no, you're one of them."
You laughed
when I wanted to die
"You're overreacting, you just need some sleep"
You laughed
when I showed you my favorite song
"That is plain out pathetic"
You laughed
when I said goodbye
"you're not gonna do it. You never do"
Will you laugh
at my funeral
in the morning?
Jan 19, 2016
Jan 19, 2016 at 8:36 PM UTC
Hills on top of fathomless hills
Where I have built my home
I walked here through the driest desserts
Swam here through the deepest seas
Hiked here through blizzards on mountains
A little piece taken each moment
Until I reached these hills
At top the rise of the earth
I look out at the universe
I can look out and say
I have been here
I have left my mark
Where it is the most important
I can look at the people building
Their homes and dreams and goals
And know they to will stand about
Their own hill, they will know that they
Made a difference in the world
Just by breathing the air
By making one laugh
And with that I may stray to the Mothers
Arms
And be sound , knowing I did my part
Oct 9, 2012
Oct 9, 2012 at 6:54 AM UTC
Masochism is my favorite way to love; I adore deeply the one that is eager to leave me in the dust for his superficial passions. I cry infinitely as the rain over the Pacific, but it does not storm. It only blinds me with stinging tears that make a shore invisible. I had you wrapped around my finger, and you slipped off like an oversized ring, falling between the spaces of a gutter to travel sewers of risk; rank with the smell of doubt and returning loneliness. I travel these sewers barefoot with your risks up to my ankles, searching for you, my ring, dress hiked up to run as if you hadn't already seen such exposed leg. But only I splash. My lover is elusive. When he trembles in anger, he comes to me; when I tremble, he only flees. He does not understand his debts. I do, only I don't wish that he pay. My kindness is self-mutulation, for I know he will not appreciate my generosity. I think of him while he daydreams of riches and soaks in his wanderlust. I am simply a piece, a fragment, a speck of dust swimming among many in a ray of sunlight. I am not something he truly wishes to strive for. This murders me, and smashes my already broken heart into smaller, sharper pieces that seem harmless, but develop greater capacity to cut flesh.
Jun 23, 2013
Jun 23, 2013 at 9:58 PM UTC
I've drank a thousand beers
I've smoked a million cigarrettes
I've ate at least a hundred Twix bars
I've watched Breakfast at Tiffany's hours on end
I've flirted with every male waiter that brings me
unfulfilling dish after unfulfilling dish
I've bought weekly **** dark outfits
and I've spent my life savings
on beautiful MAC make-up and a new Legacy
and pumps I think you'd like
I've gotten my hair colored every color I can think of
I've tried being an apathetic punk, an upbeat cowgirl,
a wide-eyed polyanna, a harsh madonna, a fuck-you-feline,
an emotionally charged marilyn, and a classy Diane
I've memorized witty jokes, and roasts, and rivetting last lines
I've modeled and sang and became an athlete
I've played hard to get, I've played easy and teasy
And I've twirled my hair and crossed my legs
and learned to walk while swaying my hips
I've ran miles and kilometers and meters and
I've lifted weights and done zumba and yoga and hiked and biked and
****
There's no comfort and no getting to you.
Oct 3, 2012
Oct 3, 2012 at 1:10 PM UTC
the new tupac will have you too walkin with gangstas
the new two stupidity now two steppin with prankstas
murked the first one sayin he's blacker the berry
when i'm sweeter than juice
bass voiced top me if you want to experience that jacked tweeters induced
when i own all of Victoria's secrets as proof
tellin me what the body when all his deducement has him actin when he's wearin his shoes
crypt walking like that it's only talk
missed balking like has bass fits jocking as his only walk
******* with me when All Hailed Mary like if she was his when is only stolen balk
I'm walkin again the gauntlet cuz all the women they want this flauntin all **** like if i was jackin all the wanted
like ghost whippin me imma follow you till i'm haunted
pain really, so bow down, when my diamonds glisten
listen again is just as well bilateral biased has his confused his like the ol' eminem was in the new form gettin his face jacked again
like me smokin crack with friends like all given enemies stressed was all given was a race black and then
we actually are the same race like i knew you back like i owned all the streets like his females thuggin as heathen
**** riding i'll **** your *** up like settin me up when i'm always the last muthafucken breathin
exposing the ***** heathen breathin like if you were the only man catching bullet rounds exposed like the new you was still alive
to the next ** hiked my socks up construed you at hit stupidity when will ride
ghettos owned by just the black reppin when you're steppin the whack, honest it was just onyx
i'll blast your *** like if you stole my pump shotty:
like i never was wanted runst follies
anamoly run has all criminal cops all fathering fun deceiving that all to gain was never greed when all greed in need bothering sons:
all you still down with me when we ride it
looking like a *** while i'm guy gee stag when you're looking into their eyes, they'd know comparison of a bird control as if fathering guys
my knowledge is flight applauding the time, are you still down with me
i hide behind the love of beauty of my womens eyes when you're looking like the female opened you up to your face compared to opening thighs
they don't know like how you stare in the future that tommorow comes only after the dark
knowing me marks the coming of the actual god
I am "unconditional heart"
Sep 5, 2018
Sep 5, 2018 at 11:59 AM UTC
for Robin
On that frosted January day,
you and I hiked north
along the Mississippi shore
on a trail marked well before us.
Footfall tapestries etched in snow
wove tales of assiduous commerce
of hosts of fur-cloaked cousins:
the playful step-slide gambit of an otter -
rabbit paw tracks by the score.
A bald eagle soared above singing ripples
in quest of a mid-day meal.
The distant staccato cadence
of a pileated woodpecker
echoed off the limestone bluffs
on that January afternoon.
Dusk-light washed the western sky
in pastel gold and crimson hues.
A coal barge heading south
thundered against the floes,
scattering ice across the channel,
then vanished beyond the bend.
And we like bargemen at their tillers,
set our southward course
retracing footprints in the snow -
back to the world of clocks and enterprise.
January, 2011
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:14 AM UTC
Let's go grab the money
Hidden in the Christmas Tree
Shoppe mason jar with the
Frosted stencil designs,
Ornate and resembling flora.
Let's take that money,
The three separate wadded
***** of once crisp
Green pieces of paper
That somehow reach the
Arbitrary total of one
Thousand, three hundred and
Twenty dollars and
Fifty lonely cents.
Let's take that 1,320.50
And go see the desolate
Stretch of sprawling
Humanity deferred between
These hiked peaks and the
Dangerous mountains
Separating the west
From the rest.
Let's go there!
Let's go there!
We'll make it across,
Be sure of that,
Be sure of nothing
But that!
Let's use the remaining
Seven fifty
To buy some
Seven Eleven sustenance
To have while
We walk backwards
Down backroads edged
With the encroachment
Of the wild back into
Negative space some
Long-ago engineer
Carved and paved.
Let's tell the driver of
This beat-up
Time-worn down
Overcast grey
Buick LeSabre
That we can pay her
Ten dollars to replace
The juice necessary to get
Us back to our sick aunt's
House in Poughkeepsie.
At the gas station
We'll tell her to stop
Real quick
And hope she leaves the
Auto to go
Pay the schlup at
The teller's booth
And jack the beater
And hope we won't
Have to bolt
Again if she doesn't.
Let's call my cousin
And find out who will give
Us four hundred dollars for
The stolen used parts store
And take that four hundred
And buy:
Two (2) greyhound tickets to get us
Back to our ****** apartment
In Stamford: 64.50 American
Three (3) damp-bunned flimsy
Beef patties glued between
Pieces of government-issue
Yellow American cheese
With all the fixins we please: 3.24 American
One (1) zip of dried out
Seeded and stemmed breaks
From the boredom of
Our own conscious
Processes: 120 American if lucky
At least eight (8) servings
Of amphetamine based
Pressed little buttons
Of confused energy: 200 American
One (1) bouquet of
Red yellow and oranges
Mixed on the petals of
Your mother's favorite
Species: whatever's left American.
Oct 2, 2012
Oct 2, 2012 at 12:40 AM UTC
When I was little
We never went to the beach,
Or the lake,
Or the river
In fact the very idea that,
Anything was larger than the creek behind my house
Was foreign to me
I knew it existed,
But I didn’t really…
I’d never seen it
But when I did, I still remember the fear
Walking up to edge of the cool water
The grit of the sand
The heat of the sun
The smell of fish
The knowledge that the waves could pull me in
Take me away
But the thing that stays with me the most
Is the feeling
I felt calm
I felt at peace
I never knew that
Never understood it anyway
I could have stood there for hours
Just staring out at the endlessness
Knowing that there was something on the other side of that
Something else that I could see
It made me realize how small I was
It made me realize how big I was
I guess that’s the beginning
I went back,
Searching
For that feeling again
I returned to very spot
Same time of day
Same day of the year
But it wasn’t the same
Something’s was missing
Maybe I just needed a different beach
Maybe I don't need a beach
But I still kept searching
Looking around
Questioning if I’ll ever feel so small again
Someday
Somehow
I’d feel that again
That endlessness
That serenity
That hope
But if that was the only time
I wish I had taken more
Just a few seconds
To really memorize it
To really embrace it
Before I ran off
I hiked up a mountain side
The rough rocks digging into my hands
The leaves providing shade
The nutty, floral scent on the wind
Then there at the top
The sun set below the horizon
And then that feeling arose once again
And I knew it wasn’t endlessness
I felt that day
Rather I was
Complete
Oct 26, 2015
Oct 26, 2015 at 11:23 PM UTC
I chased the first rays
of an autumn morning
but to my sorrow
when I arrived at
the urgent place
the sun had
already
risen
breathing a
crowning glory of a
seasons brilliant
splendor
alighting
the glowing amber
of golden woods
shining like gleaming
constellations of
dazzling morning
stars...
though I
desired to find
ascendent beauty
the ubiquitous glow of
transfigured leaves
immersed me in
a divine chrome...
as I traversed
the woods, my
solitary steps found
companionship
with a sullen
mistress singing
a sad rustle
of dry fallen leaves
and as the drone
of cars faded from the
receding road
I searched myself
for courage and
found resolve
I pondered truth
and discovered
the wisdom
of resolution...
yearning to
realize a
deeper faith
I hiked
further up
the wooded hill,
visiting the gay
playfields
of my youth
and received
an epiphany
of wholesome
closure
opening
new
timeless
doors...
still questing
for more light
a prophetic wren
whirred a pliant
secret into my ear
she bespoke
a symphony
of avian
improvisations
conversing in
a thousand
luminous tongues,
relating a sonorous
elegy teaming with
the brightest
joys of life
raising bold
proclamations
celebrating a
seasons radiance
imploring me
to join the chorus...
though the canopy
of the woods still
boasted boughs
of green
the
infant hues
of spring had
run its course
the glory of an
expiring season
strewn on the
forest floor
covering the
mouldering stags
inching back into
the compost of life
breeding blankets
of furry moss
feeding on the
primal organica
of seemingly
expired flora
here, in this
darkened moment
I realized
the transcendent
miracle
the loam of life
incubating
churning
in concert with
the turn of
seasons...
to my sorrow
I missed the first
rays of the morning
the first
peeks of light
a breaking day
gracefully bespeaks
upon a sleeping earth
awoken in new light
yet I am filled
I am transcendent
I am the first ray
of an eternal light
I am the first ray
of my earthen
gloaming...
on the morrow
the best of me
is in the marrow
of all who loved me
and all whom I loved
these rays of me
will forever rise
in an eternity
of dawnings
For Joey
Godspeed Beloved
Vaughan Williams:
Lark Ascending
Oakland
101313
jbm
Oct 14, 2013
Oct 14, 2013 at 12:13 AM UTC
A lifetime has passed
since then.
I sat for hours on
that fetid bus,
excitement knotted in
my belly like a nest
of twisting snakes,
until we arrived and
nestled in the mountains,
South and West.
Our cabin was on the fringe,
just as I was, back then.
I spread my bed and
settled down,
made myself a temporary
home.
Days passed with but
little consequence--
rock walls
and
human foosball
and
oversized
jawbreakers
and
a giant swing;
corn dogs in the
sand of the
volleyball courts
and ice cream on
the balcony
at the overlook.
We hiked uphill
to find a waterfall
as utopian as
my foolish faith,
and there we
basked under the
Carolina sun
I climbed
and slipped
until I found a
perch behind
the roar.
I can still feel the
goosebumps
upon my pale
adolescent skin.
When I grew bored,
I scaled to
the top and
jumped
feet first.
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 9:25 PM UTC
Fairbanks Alaska
Was harsh and cold and was
Not as fair as it was originally thought.
A rifle too small for big game
And Galliens shoes two sizes too big on Chris’s feet
He set off for his last adventure
Hiked towards Stampede trail through the wind and ice
With nothing but a grin on his face and his ten pound bag of rice
Apr 20, 2015
Apr 20, 2015 at 10:29 AM UTC
Her fingers were covered in corn.
the corn after chewing, broken
pierced, churned- it could spread as butter
thick on stale toast, if needed
"it's fine, don't you worry, we'll get you all cleaned up"
she stared indifferently
Strings dangled from her mouth, unswept
full of necessary greens ---"mhm there there, this will give
you so much energy" --- drags of breath,
half inhale half choke. nothing to look forward to,
not the next soaking glob, not the cursing woman
in the bathroom, not the spill of light to her eyes
Where are the ladles, Did you check on it? The key? Just moved, most the suitcases aren't there yet. Remember to bring the Did you check on it? pay attention. Have you seen my grand kids?
who are you?
Sunday's are for the active ones
The games down the hall are too far. Why worry with legs, if she could just adjust to the left
the world could sag into an ongoing dream- No demands, no games, no movement.
The nurses hair net had more presence than the splotch of gray against her peeling itchy scalp. Drool leaked from leather lips, dampening the collar of her two month sticky blouse. Arms curled and locked,displaying under the wax skin cranberry patches-
she never wiped them off. Always the soft murmer of
a snore, always the smell of unbrushed teeth and hampers.
"Did you touch those where don't touch me scott scott scott leave my things alone thevenin I need a stop lying I want to go scott, scott? scott. I can't remember any"
I said my name four times before she heard me, knew me
I fixed her pillow and my sister marked off the day on the calendar.
We told her about school, the marching band, each word
filled with forced enthusiasm. She bobbed her head in circles, lazily
rolling her eyes, the curtain shading the empty space. We spent 30 minutes precisely.
She was more than I realized.
I never knew she had horseback riding, violin playing days. She traveled and hiked. We could have been close. Unraveling with the mystery, I felt the lateness of my curiosity.
It was 30 minutes precisely, always.
We acted as strangers, reciting routine and wishing each other a happy day and a quiet love you
Sep 9, 2012
Sep 9, 2012 at 5:21 PM UTC
I’ll sleep within these woods tonight,
That much, at least, is plain.
I’d hiked for several hours
And not much day remained.
The shadows on the ground grow long
As it’s that time of year
when leaves on branches are few or none
and shadows sinister appear.
There is a clearing up ahead;
A friendly glow is seen
A solitary camper sits
beneath an Evergreen..
His smile is warm and friendly
He bades me to remain
with gestures warm and welcoming
Speech lyrical and strange..
I share with him a simple meal
Of pan fried fish and beer.
The meal seems like a miracle
As I know of no lake near.
Dark night has come and both are glad
To spread our bedrolls down
I sleep the night like one who’s dead.
I wake, and no one’s near.
No sign of my host or his tent
No sign that he was here.
I shake my head in wonder
And pack my roll to go.
What the Evergreen has witnessed
is not for me to know.
Dec 23, 2011
Dec 23, 2011 at 9:57 PM UTC
I've been trying to imagine what you'll feel like
Once you've hiked to the peak of my
Demureness.
Tell me how many times you've envisioned that expedition
-Dreams and Reality
Fantasies and Actuality-
Lets make the transition.
I want you to feel what I feel like.
I want you to feel me.
Mar 5, 2013
Mar 5, 2013 at 8:59 AM UTC
The skies are blue and the clouds look fluffy.
The air is crisp and the water is chilling.
The mountains appear to touch the sky
and the leaves are rich shades of green, red, and orange.
I walked along out of service train tracks that cut through this mountain. Literally, through it.
The tunnels started on the West Shore of Donner Lake and followed the ridge of the mountain all the way to Truckee. I hiked a half a mile from the highway up to an opening in the tunnel. For a few hundred yards the tunnel was riddled with broken bottles and worthless graffiti. As I walked further in, the garbage began to disappear and the graffiti became thoughtful, artful. It became darker and darker until I could only see the circle illuminated by my pin flashlight. On one spot of the wall someone had written the entire first chapter of Harry Potter and the Sorcerers Stone. Someone had drawn a white line. Just a white line and I was so intrigued by it. People wrote stories of the lives. "Im kevin, my gf broke up w me now im gay" or "Im pat. i got dmt and then i got aids" and "im kaylene. thats it."
Someone sprayed a **** pipe on the wall of the tunnel and it was green. They paid very good attention to the crystals in the bowl and the smoke rising from it. A young girl with black hair had her lips on the pipe and she was breathing in. Written under it was "Remember, remember, the 5th of November."
Some one else had sprayed a cowboy. One half of him was black outlined with white and gray detail and the other half was white outlined with gray and black detail. Next to it was written "Childe Roland to the dark tower come."
Some one else had sprayed a devil. He was red with pure black eyes. It was signed "Self Portrait."
Halfway through there was a drain and creepily enough a faint light was shining from underneath the thick grates. Above it some one wrote "I stashed my **** here for three years."
Under that someone had wrote "Gateway to hell."
The rocks jutted out in straight lines.
Some were smooth and others rough.
The mountains cleansed me.
They wiped away some of the grime
this small city has polluted me with.
The crisp air exfolliated some of the
smoke from my lungs and the water
pulled the dirt from my skin
and the hike massaged my sore
feet and the graffiti swept through
one eyeball and took all the garbage
in my brain out through the other
eyeball. The mountains saved me.
Oct 22, 2012
Oct 22, 2012 at 12:00 AM UTC
It’s starting to cool down here in Connecticut. Leaves are falling, like giant, burnt snowflakes (science says that trees send chemical signals to their branches to clip leaves away).
Peter borrowed a friend's toy-like, pea green, Fiat-500 convertible and we drove into the country to see the turning leaves. We hiked a bit too and stopped, in Mystic, for seafood.
I never realized just how theatrical trees could be, with their few, simple, chlorophyll tricks and how reflective still lakes could be. Wowzer, just - wowzer.
There are some things that should never be shared. Like a toothbrush, an iPad, lipstick, strawberry stroopwafels, a slice of pizza or a secret lover (that last one just sounded good). But life is good, I can share that. We’re young, dramatic sophomores with good hair products and we’re at it, working and playing hard.
Ahh.. ok, upon consultation, I have to add that some of us are in their mid-twenties with only a few good years left.
Did I mention that we climbed up a twisty lighthouse staircase too? Peter always thinks people should take the stairs, and not the elevators, “You want to have muscles and bones that work when you’re eighty,” He says. Since he’s closer to eighty than I am, when we’re not carrying furniture, I let him have his way. Of course, he’s never been to up Lisa’s 50th floor townhouse either.
My mom told me that they’re off to Poland again, over the holidays, for another tour with “Doctors without Borders” **** war). Lisa’s parents have (kindly) invited me to share their high-rise utopia again this year. Who knows, maybe Peter will have his chance to try those stairs.
Nov 4, 2022
Nov 4, 2022 at 3:30 PM UTC
I was born tall and thin
and pink
like a ****** steak.
I cried until I could run
and then ran
like a lunatic,
screaming peals of laughter
and destroying
without guilt
as kids do-
and still I was
skinny.
I was skinny in elementary school.
The other kids took to football
and dirt bikes.
I was still pink
like an underripe
tomato.
I grew up tall and thin
in a world for shorter
and fuller people.
With crooked teeth and
glasses.
I was skinny in middle school.
When the other kids started to build muscle
you could've played my ribs
like a xylophone.
You still could.
I grew up tall and thin
and frustrated
like a ****
I never fit on public busses
or in the little plastic desks
at school.
My feet stuck off the end of my bed.
They still do.
I slouched and hiked my shoulders up
so as not to obstruct others'
line of sight.
I still do.
I was skinny
when I first fell in love.
What she saw in me,
I can't say.
I was tall
and thin
and crooked
but I wanted so badly,
just for once,
to be the right shape
for her.
She was rather short
and had caramel skin.
We made an odd couple.
I grew up tall and thin,
a square peg in a world of round holes.
I'm skinny today-
a pinkish wisp
with a skinny soul
tucked away behind dark sunglasses.
I was born skinny.
And I'll probably die skinny
too,
and make a tall,
thin corpse
for a much
shorter,
wider
casket.
Sep 9, 2015
Sep 9, 2015 at 2:34 PM UTC
Papa showed me the way
to the wild blueberries.
We hiked up the tall hill,
and found those sapphire
spheres hanging from
delicate stems.
He told me stories of
our Native American ancestors
as he taught me how to pick
the berries;
surely a lesson in gathering
like this goes centuries beyond
our two lives combined!
We took
handfuls and filled our
mouths with the sweetest
blueberries I had ever tasted.
Once we had our fill, we
gazed out upon the horizon
and admired the beauty of the
ancient forest, then we returned
down the dusty trail, climbed
into the truck, and drove away.
Jun 4, 2017
Jun 4, 2017 at 3:36 PM UTC
I hiked up the highest hill
To watch the sun go down
On your birthday
On a not quite full moon of April
I stared right in it with such thrill
And felt the blood neon colours
Of your departure
Rush through my veins and freezing me still
Stood in awe of this miracle I promised I will
Find an aperture
As I’m about to take on this solo adventure
Of a lifetime of dreams I’ve yet to fulfil.
Apr 22, 2021
Apr 22, 2021 at 5:32 PM UTC
a blue flower
a runner's shoe
a sun that's shining
a ride that's new
a person laughing
a cat in the window
a melody rising
a happy widow
a twisted drum
a soft goodbye
a pretty face
a peaceful sigh
a libra calling
a buttoned shirt
a crab with claws
a cut that hurt
a white smile
a bullet punch
a hiked up skirt
a snack to munch
a disco sound
a plant that's green
a piece of paper
a ballet scene
May 13, 2013
May 13, 2013 at 12:18 PM UTC