Tuesday, October 17, 2006


"waiting in a life full of little stories for a death to come" Written by Charles Bukowski In “Play The Piano Drunk Like A Percussion Instrument Until The Fingers Begin To Bleed A Bit “

This is what I read As I sat down In the chair of my mother’s hospital room When I opened a book I had just gotten from the library on the way to the hospital I sat there, because I relieved my sister from Mom watch

Reality is beyond my comprehension.