February 13th, 2005
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I feel like dirty beach
My poems used to be so ordered. But now they are just a mess, like coughing up paint on newspaper.
It’s like running: I go and go and go, and when I run out of breath I stop; until I am moved again.
As Doug from The State used to say, “I’m Doug [Dave] and I’m outta… heehhheehhheerrre.“
