Thursday, May 8, 2014

Our Golden Monkey

Present wind, forming a basis for confluence, in learned sparkle. Such sunlight evading shadow.

Evening dreams portray only a low burden, kindling next to next fire. Morning days return as new days. Night fractures each figure.

Dark as different concludes with a springtime sorting. Brusque buds then if oily the burst. Training in mentation on the way to the ballpark. Sudden comes suddenly.

Aperture frames often. These days resemble last year, into the sentence forming the next wave. A narrow passage controls us. Bull farts like new.

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