by every star

16 August 2009 § 1 Comment

Greeting the voluptuous end of summer, and remembering future deep sighs of bracing chill–any transition, really, isn’t always seamless. Sometimes it looks like a snaggle-toothed rope bridge over a bottomless canyon or a child’s big need for complete and comfortable. The tomatoes are heavenly, though, and the tuberoses never stop singing the scent of simply sweet.

it is by every star a different time
and each most falsely true

Everything yanks on me (and the worst thing is unfulfilled words) so i have to organize my yielding–the most efficient and the best for you–but my soul gets empty that way.

Living alone with people is the worst thing.



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