My words are being marked by creases.
They are begging for smiles.
I think I shall give them red, upturned lips- con bright eyes.
I think I shall give them red, upturned lips- con bright eyes.
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A Bright Clearing I AM.
There are worn-out circular paths around that bush. I can't help it... venturing off has always been my nature.
Blog Archive
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2007
(173)
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April
(15)
- Some Days.
- Though My Eyes Struggle.
- She Said.
- I Said.
- Was I A Mystery Hunter?
- Impasse.
- Hand Me My Batleth!
- Where The Wind Is Confined.
- This Thing That Goes All Ways.
- Sabi Ni Ning.
- To The Man Who Passed Through My Harp.
- Quintessence.
- It Is When Blood Profuses The Mind, Really.
- He Who Resides In Silence.
- Face Painting.
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April
(15)
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