Post by luceluna on May 14, 2002 23:12:08 GMT -5
clarity.
Watch the flesh tendrils of smoke, the clawed balloons and curled ladders. This is alien; you smell the wisps. Again. Plumes of sunset. Lick my eyes and I fall blind.
grass.
Black snow caves, rivulets of mittens, your frosted nose. Birds (their fears beating) call on the wind.