Saturday, September 10, 2011


A full tree never dies unless earth decrees
that the following condition of the roots deems unworthy.
Never  let a raven sing until you have sung a song or two.
Like my words roll on for free, so does the bare bed sheets.
Rub charcoal on your face until you look lovely.
Death shall envelop sanctity as sacred vows choose to envy thee.

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