Wednesday, August 12, 2009

March: Year-day 63

March: Year-day 63 West Bend, the prison arrived at through years of foolishness. Like most, I too have bumbled seriously, bent, broken off, split under the freezing rains of desire/ as the trees, so many of the trees, here have/ this Ash Wednesday. Had I not sought what I have I would not have had to suffer as I right now do, though my suffering invites laughs. West Bend, insipid necessary prison, gained through my constant buying of new cars, my failure to use enough healthy reasons for doing whatever sharpens my hours. Denial by denial heals now this run impresario's too familiar powers. -

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.