one hundred and ninety four degrees: ‘fuel for the sodium flares…’

So great.

360*tree

Broom People ~ The Mountain Goats

one hundred and ninety four

Within, the smallest. Of small, seemingly. Insignificant, things. A whole, universe. Alive. But often, missed. Blind eyes, busy. Chasing, the next. Big, deal. While life, itself. Is made. A million, little moments. Linked, together. Like a world, map. Written, on a leaf. Or an iris.  I wonder, whether. You even, see.

*

I am a wild creature…

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This entry was published on April 12, 2013 at 10:32 pm and is filed under Stuff. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.

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