Notebooks

Losing Kurt at 13

On February 20th I wrote him a love letter for his birth day
come find me in the north east
ride your mothers ship from Seattle
and poke your love heart out to mine
let’s make babies or a mess
that someone else is bound to write about when we are young and mad.

On April 5 I wrote him a love letter for his death day
come find me in the middle
a purgatoria of feedback and distortion
and hold my hand tighter than ever before
let’s grin or bare it
shoulder the stampede of reverb and tell God to make us dinner.

 

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