Clouds carry rain.
Upstairs in the projection area.
I've a Good and Plenty.
I've Bombay Gin in my right boot.
I think of nodding a nap.
I am disguised as Walt Whitman.
I have an iPhone flashlight.
I must reach you.
I have put eye drops in.
It is crowded.
I searched for you on the web.
I turned up the same bar and grille.
I act young at heart.
I wrote something on a PBR coaster.
I timed the rain before.
I heard your car door.
I stood smoking.
I wondered of silent birds.
I can see in the dark.
I do not have money in the Alps.
I do not have words in my fingers.
I thought of sleeping.
I destroyed commas to hear.
I could not count the raindrops.
I described it as accelerated grief.
I could not read the news.
I thought of forgetting.
I do not know what that symbol is.
I saw a face in it.
I could not find you.
I could not reach the hanger dry.
I could go there for the weather.
I have a film on me.
I have not thought since 1967.
I found golden horses.
The raindrops were fine.
The raindrops mocked the red paint.
The raindrops became noise.
The raindrops fell on the green valley.
The raindrops reddened the rolling hills.
The machines rediscovered sound.
I faked sleeping for a good while.
I thought of clean reflections.
I was alone.
I wrote quips for the TV.
I snapped my fingers just so.
I threw my knife perfectly.
I touched my left knee with my right elbow.
I touched my right knee with my left elbow.
The day before.
I prayed like a saint.
I wished I were a butterfly.
I wished I saw through the sun.
I wrote a check to the Red Cross.