who will carve a comb of bone in the thin air cold when the swallows have gone over the yellowland, untamed live oak the picids all on it it is laid full of holes and mistletoe, which eats the water that halfhint, that volley, had leaked what was east open a roam-eye, a plain, a riverrock patience & now the motion of coldmonths will rattle the tin windy or parched, large shutters come and early was a body, bent reeds string, paper, Indian physic crooked timing was the river, the unsaids a finebow oiled, a lovely aim recalled like leafpress, holding it humming
Posted on: Thu, 14 Nov 2013 19:40:14 +0000
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