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Daily Archives: November 8, 2015
On the days when I have forgotten my own name, spun nothing resembling anything but chaos, tossed caution, bedclothes and straw to the wind, un be -friended both gold and bones, remind me that silence cannot be unwrinkled, and this … Continue reading
.. in a yellow submarine glass house on Curiosity (killed the cat) Street. everybody knows that’s just how it goes with sticks and stones and silence. together we have addressed such things, some to be kept as gathered secrets, others … Continue reading