Wednesday, August 22, 2018

Solid as a rock


Except when water is thrown into the mix.  Think of it as spontaneous dreaming.  Spontaneous memory.  Portals appear like eyes in a potato.  Like words in last night's poem.  Quite watery, too.


1 comment:

  1. Dining out, they wanted. Flowers, ghosts, old wounds. The awful poverty of his wishes. Close calls. Dessert.

    Distraught sequence if you could call it that.

    We went out anyway in the moonlight, riding, and found it pleasant after all.

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