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The Old Complaint
M.J. Howes, Editor
Friday, October 3, 2008
Arms
Comes a day we forget
what the hell our arms
are for.
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About Me
Maria J. Howes
Living la vida Lorca.
View my complete profile
Blog Archive
►
2009
(18)
►
December
(1)
Pinwheeled, I warble. Toasted my butter, posted ca...
►
November
(2)
Saturday
Poorly catalogued intentions.
►
September
(3)
Letter to an Aging Poet
Moving Boxes
abridged suite
►
August
(2)
saudade: vol. 1
another.
►
July
(3)
Wrong-done and un-won, sin engraved in mouth wide ...
In the canyon, caught by the heat of a hundred han...
Peaking again in a patch of sand, packaged for mis...
►
June
(1)
Bench dream.
►
May
(3)
Hands
Door Tempo
Container
►
March
(1)
Sabbat
►
February
(2)
March Doesn't Mind Me Staring at Walls
Ash Wednesday in Saint Paul, Before the Snow Falls...
▼
2008
(21)
►
December
(1)
Untitled
▼
October
(5)
Meter Theatre
Revival
The Bowls
Arms
Minneapolis, One.
►
September
(1)
Old Season Widows
►
August
(1)
Cocked head of a dead dove
►
July
(5)
Heirloom winter
Homecoming
Morning on the BBC
Carousel Horse
The Ghost of Aristotle
►
June
(1)
Dress Rehearsal
►
April
(5)
Scenes for Small Actors: Chapters 5-6
Scenes for Small Actors: Chapter 4
Scenes for Small Actors: Chapter 3
Scenes for Small Actors: Chapter 2
Scenes for Small Actors: Chapter 1
►
February
(2)
America, keep the Change
Reflections on Self, Sadness and Incomplete Indepe...
►
2007
(6)
►
December
(3)
Sun in the Morning and Ki-moon at Night
The Cookie's the Thing
Holidate
►
November
(1)
Gross Negligence
►
October
(2)
Great Expectations
Blog, Gabriel, blog!
Editorial Board, et al.
Awkward Press
Twin Brother
Polygot Conspiracy
Beat Them Gherkins
Weird Shit
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