Monday, July 6, 2009
banks and curbs
the derogatory incarnation of the flattered stone. it is called moss and mold; not too old. moment to moment. but not quite understood. slippery and with a delicate constitution, not of its own but to those clods who find footing upon it’s moistened quips.
Labels:
awareness,
common sense,
observation,
perception,
perspective,
poem,
prose,
reflection,
thinking,
thoughts
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