You rise from the pregnant slime
over and over
to reward with a cereal smile
or punish with a pestilent smack
this or that man
or woman
and then dive deep in the tuberous slime
again
like a sea pen in Tasmanian
tannin waters
until
man or woman merits
the same
again.
Thus time is born.
Showing posts with label Tasmanian. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Tasmanian. Show all posts
Friday, July 31, 2009
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The White Gloves
You can find the book at https://www.smashwords.com/books/view/524218 The story is taking place in a magic forest. Little Red Ridi...
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“Delicious strawberries!” the peddler cried I smiled, knowing he lied: Strawberries of this large a size are always the hormones’ pride, I t...
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Looking at distant words flashing through the window in the rain of tears. Like faint lanterns from a ship caught in fog, words sear...