Radio Molar Signal #1.3

by on December 11, 2012 :: 0 comments

Cliff upset with needles walking running finger prints –
those thin lights, driven hallowed, blackberry cloud mother floating
around in the sky.

A segmented time piece of rooms hanging to vultures on string, to the
sun, silently to our father, for umbrellas. Often times raining hand
tools, hammers, saw blades, screw guns into landings, hung nicely now
in the shed, overgrown.

editors note:

The pricks and piffles of our precarious lives are judged from on high by the tools of our deconstruction… or, maybe it’s just our putting off overgrown urgencies to clean up the yard, rake last leaves before first snow. – mh

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