Thoughts On The Edge Of Sleep
Within the windows closed, With wings spotted and bright, Without a clear direction, They hover in their flight, They flutter for a moment, Then fade into another, For there is no hunter, There is no...
View Article[in a flat land where the houses are filled with hay]
in a flat land where the houses are filled with hay there’s a pocketchart for visualizing trouble a man going on and on in the wrong way about the right way to put your hands on a football “…it’s like...
View Articleform from a form of breathing
the water is self-etching made in the image of likeness of the sky broken in the shallows in the ripples form from a form of breathing
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