Wednesday

quarter moon has ...

Unthing the moon, its hinge floating high and the women tapped their heads. Low ruminous clouds packed the afternoon sky that banked its ruffled feathers of light close to the heat of day's lingering burn. Was the prose of that thought poetic to its extreme legibility?


The music was horns and it might have been corny but love was real. How about the shadow surrounding the wood? And the tiger burning bright up grabbing your coat .... and then its first tearing... and we lifted up the raft pushing on further to the other shore making our way by the past beyond the past hanging its wings no one left tangling its wrist

and the world miracle closer came to its trees and vaults
opening up the sidewoods....



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Jill cottoned to the moment, bringing herself back from the edge calling the
number... ringing the only hotel in existence...

from that moment she gave up preaching.....


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