©27 August 2013
Snow melts. Waterfalls streaming rivulets off roofs slake the thirsty ground.
The archer aims, hoping it is true. The arrow flies. Is the eye hit new?
got my surfboard out and rode the photon waves: googled out!
Monsters under our beds are phantoms in our heads. Gurus shout such ghosts at our ear… and fears.
Work defines the bee? Hives shoul… But entries belong on pages. Companies write mission memos. Souls pen living stages.
He pretends to be a hard boiled eg… He actually has a soft yolk. Sometimes, when he acts tough, he is secretly fluid. If you get to know him, he removes
haiku are headlines reporting mother nature the insight stories
Burned flesh in the nostrils, napalm nightmare haunting the brain, destroys the rhythm of life.
Went to the hall, talked Kingdom y’all through swapping yarns for we give a darn, then sang our songs.
here is where we chirp, written lines known as tweeting- compressed ideas— Bill D. Johnston (@bedeejay) ...
She collected rainbows. She stored sunshine. She put moonlight away. She made stars into a crown. She drew picture clouds.
winter mirror mysterious prints at crosstime junction
gentle breeze on the beach– sudden rain
I went to Coin Lent to get some money pumped. But all my cash I spent, and all my cred was dumped.
sky shapeshifters take infinite forms on the azure canvas.
