Monday, April 19, 2010

posh feet




Wigwams and bodies over the ground. Sweet the earth and its pelt. Sweet the taste of her lips across the honey page, this book lifts its eyes to yours and penning along its name scroll to the air of its viola


Jill's jacket is nuptial bliss to the pinochle bevel, and the terrace and knowing solitude is the only group you work in. Wrought by parenting fish and the tribe of leafs and the mirror of elbows and Mona hears the ribboned sigh of its restlessness and invent.
If the train could get him there he'd arrive tonight to your smile calling your initial C~ C ~ C ~ voila on est la ~ tant d'amour amour
tant d'amour cœur brise
un peu
un
une pour toi