Thursday, September 5, 2013



Here I shall build it.
I will build the clouds a frame
like a boxy kite
but with room for me
and I shall strap in forthwith
for my trip aloft
perhaps to the stars
and certainly high enough
to spy tower tips
and those who live there.
In that place lives my lost love.
Perhaps she'll see me.
Perhaps she will wave.
Perhaps I will be set free
to fly on my own.

‎September ‎3, ‎2013 4:18 PM

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The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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