Paris Journal (James Douglas Morrison Poems)
So much forgotten alreadySo much forgottenSo much to forgetOnce the idea of purityborn, all was lostirrevocablyThe Black Musicianin a house ...
So much forgotten alreadySo much forgottenSo much to forgetOnce the idea of purityborn, all was lostirrevocablyThe Black Musicianin a house ...
1.My love plays piano and his foot hovers above the pedal.Sustain, they call it when the note floatslike a basketball ...
Stalking a deer I wandered deep into the mountains and from there I saw. Or perhaps it was for some ...
stuck in the rain on the freeway, 6:15 p.m.,these are the lucky ones, these are thedutifully employed, most with their ...
The clouds and the stars didn't wage this war the brooks gave no information if the mountain spewed stones of ...
Is it long as a noodle or fat as an egg? Is it lumpy like a potato or ringed like ...
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