360*tree

take my hand and climb with me…

twelve degrees: ‘once there was a haunted loop…’

There Are Maybe Ten Or Twelve ~ A.C. Newman

A postcard from Parys arrived. The word upon your chest, leitmotif of love. These words upon mine, piece of a poem, quicksilver tattoo:

you opened / your arms  / to the sky

and I fell / (for a moment) /we’ll always

 have…

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This entry was posted on October 12, 2012 by in Spring and tagged , , , , , .

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