... reverberation Of thunder of spring over distant mountains He who was living is now dead We who were living are now dying With a little patience.
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I am thirty-three and working in an expensive clothier, selling suits to men I call "Sir." These men are muscled, groomed and cropped-- with wives and families that grow exponentially. Mostly I talk of rep ties and bow ties, of full-Windsor knots and half-Windsor knots, of tattersall, French cuff, and English
Do not move. Let me speak of a river in paradise
A turquoise gift from fiery stars that is paradise
How do you measure a river’s weight, color, smell, touch?
How do you feel the veins of sand in a breathing paradise?
Eons of earth story, long before rocks, plants or bones