Saturday, November 06, 2004

belong in the entry of ritual until the long bones rot over again. they rot over the standard dispatch and until the nearest word settles onto proceess. steer alone into the victory of night time, elusve fiddling with the switch, trenchant bits of dropping off. stop by the world wayside, including even the names, and live up to romance. the string in which we curl up starts to include a myriad sampling. all the words congest into a fictive statement and then. these are the notes, teasing thru the ebulliance. did you win or lose as you took account?

Great post, I enjoyed reading it.

Adding you to favorites, Ill have to come back and read it again later.
Bon jour. Le temps amer que je vois.

Chercher le temps et quelques comment terrien ici.

Blog agréable.

Je devrai revenir plus tard.
Post a Comment

This page is powered by Blogger. Isn't yours?