There has to be a place where I can stash things that I like, that I would like to keep or share. Without logic or reason, a flowing ream of collectibles, be it self-scribbles or works blatantly borrowed. Thoughts, verse, sights, sounds, each to be whimsically vibrant, eclectic, joyously effervescent, introspective, scathingly incisive, or deeply nostalgic, but always moving. This is to be it.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Pas de dix mots
Des jours où tous les cieux, l’un dedans, l’un au-dessus,
Pensent au même,
Nous y te voyons, souriant, aux cieux du Nord-Est,
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