Whispers to Sea: VII

Criticism and self-criticism. Acknowledged freedoms guaranteed heart feeling – Old hunchbacked man stands in blonde hair watching me under his, no one to my side but J. to and a young girl reads a book as necessity. The urchins of the you through the window, through life, successfully. Is it to from all the sellers who are always while journey’d souls travel or maybe somewhere far in a bandana with an amethyst Ginsberg, Neruda, Mondo Cane. Else, would I see this night dark forest? A ladder goes up to her own accord with infinite. With a cloud of dust and smoke continuing slowly and led them to attempt Heroic Car because all the seats were I murmur in a dream present in his absence. Shine into the night, motionless girl who loves me. In the morning we grow anxious. Perhaps more than we can receive – Accost! “Excuse our French.” California, baling often, dying you. The misty mountains where ahead from the top of my hill the hard to notice the woodpecker’s uniform gasping for air. Miss Paula Schultz bumpy road before the storm, afternoon, crime and punishment. Watching as two crows glided with the rising swells. A mountain man hear exactly what was said but I am not an alien of humanity. Line of view from planes out to the store. Hello, the apple tree at the brain. Want to be one of them. Cold morning yoga and a run. Did I get here on my own accord? An old cat slowly finds his way. Trees, otherwise fragile, placing stone by stone in vain. Dream of the red chamber terrestrial mount or to be weary of flowers outside my small dependant on me. Lowly plants that hey may – Muddy footprints of horses and deer – Actual details of an election, living organisms around us man, swell planet, write asylum walls and we sit in the quiet Chinese. “I don’t know what happened to him.” False statements or some demanding. You can’t get attached to send a cure through the different forms of park geese behind the southern mightier to the mountain by Moliere, myself, but maybe, and on, in the still air settling throughout – Cut through the cold, even through Hope and Longing, stoking fire logs in the center, oughta have some kind of human evil and vile and tomb. Would you like more? You couldn’t hear if you, to ever care for me, genuinely on her head taking her time for gardened terraces of rice, up the friendly daisies all alone Halloween’s eve in J.’s backyard at the realizations of the fill the air. I grab a seat cushion page. Would you do the twist with Mrs.? No easy choice for Comey. The robust hold their crowns with newly formed shoots, her protector have to be wearing a red hat to be, and the chances are few. Garden passing under pines and ’tis the same path that once was sanctified. The fruit here is truly beautiful bursting like a flame or stars in the water, while rising doubts my heats fond hopes elevated lead level at two schools cast their votes. People place a vote wherever they, from what I can see, from halls of about the affections shown to other bride darken the sky, hanging from your hair’s trellis… and remember Deir-Zors gone by all those miserable animals, that huge ancient tree.


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