by Angeliska on December 26, 2002

i loathe inept phlebotomists who bruise my tender veins.

Black Cypress

by Angeliska on December 25, 2002

Spinning down a thin gray thread of highway, our tiny rental-pod rocking with the force of a rhythmic, pounding rain careening on its inexorable trajectory into the past- time running backwards.. Spindly black cypress stumps huddle together in the dead (…)

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holy daze

by Angeliska on December 23, 2002

well, my lovely little creatures, in a few scant hours i will be hurtling in a rental car down I-10 towards texas, family, and bittersweet memories aplenty.. my ancestral birth-place, that sweet old town.. shaky nerves and muddled mind, adrenaline (…)

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by Angeliska on December 22, 2002

Sorrowful stories I hear all that’s shown His posturish shiver on his things And she’s always known Things from the forest die here But I don’t Dead forest things are offered here But I’m not Vassals live lies Their faith (…)

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by Angeliska on December 18, 2002

Snails, I have read, are equipped with a curious organ, known as a gypsobellum, or love-dart with which they apparently excite each other…