Saturday, October 16, 2010

She once had a



Round the knuckle she's cozened fair winds,      ~  something like that old roaring gal business. Not a literary lift, but theft at its 
dangerousests  height    ~ .  forget forget her amnesia a belt of row after row of feet i n the parting rain.Its swagger stop by tools and god. That the one that gives up all     ~ not the travellers of I cant handle winter. How heartless their ruthless unbecomings .




she once ha d a carriage the rich woman pained by her guilt and stop in time. She's a bore no a boor in the craftiness of its shamefaced privilege. No place for love in this choosing.


A word inevitable for invention rewarded  intention.


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