The colour red sent money, leave it at that. Sky autumn full of blue that will be remembered as one day after a word. Make that wiord again.
The colour red made money, bits of earth brown and something well you just know.
Green stacked high even as leaves fell to the tune of rain. On yesterday, that is, when rain will be rain.
Today is now sun, the fat part of our thinking. Thin night thinks, but we are too thin then.
The colour blue made a ramp into the air, on which many followed for something. These are days and some nights, and all together we need station.
Look how words have spread across the field. We aren’t tractors any more, just pieces of distracted thought.
Yellow sun sleeps with a mouse. Orange enjoys the daze. It says here, yesterday we will give each other a chance. That doesn’t mean standing there with your mouth, your shadowed mouth. Today is the tender time of day. Try to make something.