JoseHdz

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TypeTitleAuthorRepliesLast updated
StoryAmy Beeme2013 years 11 months ago
StoryA Kind of Loving Silver Spun Sand1013 years 11 months ago
StoryThe Jazz in the Background JoseHdz413 years 11 months ago
StoryI Did Not Wake Up JoseHdz1014 years 6 days ago
StoryThree and the Quarters... Silver Spun Sand1414 years 1 week ago
Storyamy, 27 delapruch614 years 2 weeks ago
StoryLove is like holding your head to an electric fan, real close. maggyvaneijk3314 years 3 weeks ago
StoryI Thought of Jack Kerouac JoseHdz1414 years 3 weeks ago
StoryThey Haven't Loved JoseHdz1114 years 3 weeks ago
StoryNow She is Six... Silver Spun Sand2614 years 3 weeks ago
Story'It's Over...' Silver Spun Sand1414 years 4 weeks ago
StoryThe Burning shoe1714 years 4 weeks ago
StoryI am an addict samhennig214 years 4 weeks ago
Storyunfinished wishes.... lostallfaith114 years 4 weeks ago
StoryA walk along a roadside nature reserve... maisie414 years 4 weeks ago
StoryPillow samhennig214 years 1 month ago
StoryHome For the summer camilla414 years 1 month ago
Storythe suicidal soldier delapruch214 years 1 month ago
StoryYour hand in mine samhennig614 years 1 month ago
StorySun Soaked Eyes JoseHdz1214 years 1 month ago
StorySay It Isn't So Silver Spun Sand1614 years 1 month ago
StoryFrom Me to You JoseHdz1214 years 1 month ago
StoryNot Even a Rose JoseHdz514 years 1 month ago
StoryThe True Poet JoseHdz1214 years 1 month ago
StoryVenetian Interlude (IP) seashore3014 years 1 month ago

My stories

Cherry

Your Violet Wind

You touched My mind The very first day We met: I felt your eyes; I felt your violet wind. I knew that you Were different From the rest: You wanted blood; You wanted love— My kiss.
Cherry

Zapatista Blues

There Is a border Inside My Autumnal Mind: I remember The future And I see What has Died.
Cherry

Are You the Wind?

So, this is how the mind expands: it pulsates On the tips of pens - The ink flows to the Page like a violet rain, falling calmly
Poem of the week

This Serpent Tongue Cannot Be Colonized

I yearn to Speak the Silent language Of sun-burnt peasants— With a vibrant accent, Colorful with The pulse of Ancient myth: This serpent tongue— This pride— Cannot be colonized.
Cherry

The Sixth Sun Has Arrived

I did not Cross the border But My mother did And so This battle Is mine— And I will Surely win; I can take on Entire governments With my pen—

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