(* = pinged in last 12 hrs)
Peaceful Acres Home for Resting Blogs
Tuesday, January 25, 2005
A purple light shines in the middle of the room.
I remember my bank account number.
Bubble forced downward by the flow from the upended bottle,
Come closer, o smear on the mirror.
Blind as bread.
I want the follow music to pray with me for chase dust.
I don't crumple the fumes.
It finds its way around the experience.
It has memories, but not its own.
posted by Jordan