A rolling stone gathers no moss; A rolling rock gathers no...

15 October 2009

Clay #2

This clay--portraiture. Clay filings in the mop closet.
Rush the locks. Let them turn. Illumine
the drugs on youth. Their pasttime. Their lurking
essence, evervesence. Youth on drugs. That
sweet ocean of pot, sweeter than sugar and
sharp like burnt grass or lust become sadness,
murky. That's why you should open a window
more often. Fresh air is wonder &
cold--
Posted by at

No comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)