Wednesday, April 18, 2012

Napowrimo Day 18

Ruff

One half of the mix I thought would
save me, playing, while we are approaching.

Her.

Everything understood.
Too much looking down.

The measurement of language.
The liberality of order.
Elizabethan dreaming.

Riding with my head back the whole way instead of forwards.

Before the sky.
Too bad I wasted that.

Accidentally halving everything.

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