photo manipulation,
Cassidy,
December 2009
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
Friday, December 11, 2009
Tuesday, December 8, 2009
Monday, November 2, 2009
Tuesday, September 22, 2009
The experience of moments
a memory
of boxed red wine
Curry
and those cookies
heavy with Ginger and Molasses
of hours
spent talking
in your car
or
In stillness
sitting
quiet
Silent
Except for the
Delicate sound
Of your slow
Measured
breathing
beautiful
but still I have
no memory of you
Not like it was
there is no
like it was
Matt Hansen September 2009
of boxed red wine
Curry
and those cookies
heavy with Ginger and Molasses
of hours
spent talking
in your car
or
In stillness
sitting
quiet
Silent
Except for the
Delicate sound
Of your slow
Measured
breathing
beautiful
but still I have
no memory of you
Not like it was
there is no
like it was
Matt Hansen September 2009
Monday, September 21, 2009
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Thursday, August 20, 2009
Friday, August 14, 2009
Monday, July 6, 2009
Tuesday, June 30, 2009
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Tuesday, May 26, 2009
Friday, May 1, 2009
Tuesday, April 7, 2009
Monday, April 6, 2009
Vague... Very Vague...
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Wednesday, March 11, 2009
Tuesday, March 10, 2009
Thursday, February 12, 2009
Tuesday, February 3, 2009
Thursday, January 29, 2009
gone.
ink on my fingers
bees on my brain
my friends are all missing;
they left on a train.
their backpacks are full
of granola and knives,
DIY zines about anarchist lives.
they blow me a kiss
as they turn and they flee...
i pick flower petals as i say,
"woe is me."
"gone."
poetry
Allynn Carpenter
January 2009
bees on my brain
my friends are all missing;
they left on a train.
their backpacks are full
of granola and knives,
DIY zines about anarchist lives.
they blow me a kiss
as they turn and they flee...
i pick flower petals as i say,
"woe is me."
"gone."
poetry
Allynn Carpenter
January 2009
Tuesday, January 27, 2009
Monday, January 26, 2009
Wednesday, January 21, 2009
Small Farm
Some day
I will move
to a small farm
and one night
having cut the wood
for the evenings fire
I will sit on the porch
with Orions sword
pointing at my home
with a cup of tea
held close
to help keep my fingers
from losing their feeling
with my dogs
curled up at my feet
I will think of you
perhaps with a tear
perhaps with a smile
but I will think of you
and as I sit
watching the snow
begin to fall
with the small spots of white
drifting out of the thickening mist
I will realize
at some point
along the way
I've forgiven you.
Poem, Matt Hansen, December 2006
I will move
to a small farm
and one night
having cut the wood
for the evenings fire
I will sit on the porch
with Orions sword
pointing at my home
with a cup of tea
held close
to help keep my fingers
from losing their feeling
with my dogs
curled up at my feet
I will think of you
perhaps with a tear
perhaps with a smile
but I will think of you
and as I sit
watching the snow
begin to fall
with the small spots of white
drifting out of the thickening mist
I will realize
at some point
along the way
I've forgiven you.
Poem, Matt Hansen, December 2006
Tuesday, January 20, 2009
Thursday, January 15, 2009
Friday, January 9, 2009
Sunday, January 4, 2009
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