mocker Wolk Writer Have you heard a mocker sing of rain and snow and ice in the halcyon days of spring? Have you heard a mocker sing against your advice after which the wasp took wing? Have you heard a mocker sing of rain and snow and ice?
Remember Wolk Writer Who put his memories in a box and left them sixteen miles out of town to slowly waste away? Will they take root if I water them and grow into sumptuous buildings? Or will they trot stolidly into a far receding and hazy oblivion? Will they be distorted into enduring parodies or linger quietly among visions and mystic terrors? Who left them here? Does he remember?
Putting on Shoes Persephone Pheonix The beginning of the hum is so faint fracturing at the edge of the air that your brain hasn't registered itself separate from its dream and then the day that comes presents itself and we rise to it or we fail. You are on time, love. Now swell your lungs with morning; each day is a paper ladder.
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