no messes that stem from the dog's chest hair, scratch scratch scratching away the irritations a full day gathers. and when the full moon makes its way to the spotlight, it steps into a song that only the most remote telephone poles exhaust itself to can imagine. great shimmers reach sleeping pigeons as the clouds clear and sinuses also clear from the debris that the wind sprays away. it's time to dance.
Monday, July 26, 2010
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