bye bye, love

california cradles my memories, little vagabonds.

i met you in the void,

where emptiness was supposed to be.

the writer's only rule

"always bring a pen," said seth.

people you've been before / that you don't want around anymore

these uninvited bores keep showing up.

where do drifters go? wonder if they know there's no limit

once, it was my stone city.

i miss those roaring winds from santa ana

the wildness comes in whispers here.

missing the violent jolt of

every city of stone and flowers...