Saturday, July 26, 2008

Slip. The swish of sandals
A silent symphony
That sashays down the sidewalk
With snaking sophistry
So they say, you slip away
To the satis-factory.

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After a busy day when confronting admin

 We must all come  Find ourselves And we will all be found Regardless  As the sun finds the morning As breath finds the lungs As I am found ...