Maureen
- Sometimes fear lifts like a ramp when you're a kid and you jump and get there.about 24 hours ago from Ada
- The risen sun hot beads of blood through the kelp bulbs' brown-green swaying tide.11:56 PM Nov 7th from Ada
- Nine hundred twenty of one thousand! What? It's a secret, Internet.9:53 PM Nov 7th from Ada
- Spiders nooked between sill and pane, egg pods the soft prophecy of frost.7:29 AM Nov 7th from Ada
- Bear-eared sea strolls with my pipe have regressed to the garden in long johns.6:54 AM Nov 7th from Ada
- Ungoogleable: how many whole cloves in a spoon, world's smartest cat.5:29 PM Nov 5th from Ada
- Sea bows strung with gulls. Making something of the sun: music, coffee, work.6:16 AM Nov 4th from Ada
- Rushing into the future on a borrowed quad core. My poor G4.10:11 AM Nov 3rd from Ada
- San Francisco, take care of @. I don't lend him to just anyone.10:24 PM Nov 2nd from Ada
- Peat pudding, cauldron of soup; a castleful of spirits to imbibe.6:36 AM Nov 2nd from Ada
- Halloween saved by rivottingly erratic fireworks from the shed.3:57 PM Oct 31st from Ada
- Someone in Tokyo thinks @ is a robot. (*´▽｀*) 圧倒される!5:51 PM Oct 30th from Ada
- After the struggle, there is another to say, yes, now I'm happy.8:49 AM Oct 28th from web
- Conquered. In the soap sweet kitchen, a wool sweater drips blue, freshly dyed.2:20 PM Oct 25th from web
- Heaped dishes, drastic measures. Five shots of Illy. So hyped it's 5illy.4:36 AM Oct 25th from web
- Sea mist on windows obscures the sea. A wind-slammed gate no lullabye.6:38 PM Oct 23rd from Ada
- When we run out of coffee, we have none. I like it better this way.6:21 AM Oct 23rd from Ada
- The storm rattles an attic board above my desk. Late work to Fan Death.2:04 PM Oct 21st from Ada
- @, will Chomsky be recorded? Sad to have missed tix.7:05 AM Oct 21st from web
- Ocean olive with bolts of dark blue. I'll cut the sunflowers later.6:29 AM Oct 21st from Ada
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- Name Maureen Evans
- Location Castle in the fog near Belfast
- Web http://spezzato.org
- Bio I measure out my life in senryu: haiku of human foibles. Regarding existence as a writer, and the Occupational Hazards of Poets.
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