Sunday, November 28, 2010

once a month

my thoughts make it onto a page.
not often enough.
with no cohesion or context. they float. from me into oblivion.
with no one to read or understand them i wonder of purpose. and intent.
as if perhaps a story may emerge withering on the white of the page.
a thread i can follow. or pull out of seam in my consciousness.

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