the wind sock is purring,
can the screech owl, attack the navel.
with his peeking tom mentality.
streets filed down to a solid number.
telling her the secret nature.
The night time rings,
the nest waddles, the giver gabs away.
dandelions that sing,
saddled up and the windows is cleansed.
how are you?
I am sinking...it drips.
now let us dance to the sawdust.
No comments:
Post a Comment