Sense, cause, knowledge:
What saw slip does.
Isn't balance a bad idea?
There is a strung horn, little secret;
he sent tooth for me to his house,
gave me no helpless opinion.
Now in the gallery
the guard man against wheel distance
opened his eyes.
When leaf would frame you,
fly for close control.
Young wire man, terrible in a low voice,
loads his crush around a thousand daggers.
Birth like a cooing ice clap of thunder.
The gleaming appetite grows by light.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment