Wednesday, March 10, 2010

it is not on the backs of the ants

i chatted with mr sugar over afternoon tea

then walked between some fluid layers

and came across the ink soaked bread of rhinocentricity.

so i stood explaining to the lion

there are evenings (i began to recall as i spoke) when i find myself here.

a candle; an eagle and the man i think of when i see it

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