Friday, August 14, 2015


you call it lavender stuff, they call it poetry of the moon dancing madly across the skies.
it's also silly letters with beautiful pictures, keys to memory-trunks where they say there are shadows of climes behind stairwells, flutes that played on behind mist, et cetera and et cetera, images and imageries, bla bla and bla, things to hide behind, sleep and dream within, shapes to shift by.

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