January 2011
2 posts
last summer
the war we walk into a yellow void where the little fox gazes at a bullet hole
the query would we be still together playing side by side with two brown burnt fruits?
the isolater you made a seal on your lips then walked pass my fingers
the dream for the ginger still in yellow the fish in a bowl cold tea, and the windmill keeps turning I decide to stay there
the expectation we walk...