Now when I type, m y old lady flapjack-arms were swinging back and forth sometimes. They reminded me of when I was a child swinging from tree branches swaying in the wind. After all these years, my face was also now beset with tiny wrinkles around my blue eyes, like spoors around the tree of many... Sign in to see full entry.
Saturday, March 22, 2008
Underground dancing...There's a bird pecking at the fat...
there's a dead tree covered with now; there's a truck dropping cinders on the slippery highway. There's life in my backyard--- black wings beating on the branches, greed eyes watching, mouths screaming and fighting over the greasy ball. There's a mole singing hallelujah. Close the rotten doors! Let... Sign in to see full entry.