Friday, March 07, 2008

they call it

Through fast darkly her longly goods were haven spent. Across the narrowing strait where her cities went. Not so this tent of appeals and narcotic sunsets ~

They call all night knights to this nard scent tracking over the bushwhacked hill. Rivered where Franny fallen flapper hooded her gown by trestled sunset railyywars, and hoofs of feet. You ca nt say hoofs of foot. Why not. Called out camber me along the canoe woe ~