Thursday, March 29, 2018

When the twig leaves the vine


a few grapes linger.  Or perhaps an eager hand who carries a familiar face has left just a few for you.  Akin to a poem with mostly cross-outs.  Always, always look for glacier blue.
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1 comment:

  1. Susan E. GangelApril 1, 2018 at 9:56 AM

    everything touched denies its surface as a new heat emerges from the surface, secret impressions in the dawn

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