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.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
La mia prima poesia italiana
Sietei benvenutia mia casa
C'e' dove, La tuacandelasi scaldasempre ilcuoredelfocolare
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