Thursday, September 11, 2008

SEPTEMBER 12, 2002

A blue and glorious day, blue so bright it blows sorrow away. We have chosen everything we've got; we've got everything we've chosen. We are not victims. When the wind blows, we blow back at.

A sour greenness north of Fairwater. A cummerbund of clouds at the western horizon. A lovely shine to everything. I am full of the world and I have nothing to say.

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