Autumn has turned grey and every live thing goes soft. Each branch, each particle of air feels to be rusting and in my heart oxygen and iron carry more weight than gold. The tiny birds flit from one branch to another. The clouds cover us.
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Oct 22, 2010
Oxygen and Iron
Autumn has turned grey and every live thing goes soft. Each branch, each particle of air feels to be rusting and in my heart oxygen and iron carry more weight than gold. The tiny birds flit from one branch to another. The clouds cover us.
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1 comment:
Oh, man. Wonderful.
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