West-leaning rose.
I saw a rose blue-feathered
with an east feel,
blue as taps.
Yellow mere sky tamped down
the early match with silence after sleep.
Then I awoke to flesh blond air feel.
Why you are here is I am here
said w/each).
Peach tastes.
The letter press. Yes.
Almost drapes are not the same as morning.
Thursday, April 12, 2007
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