Thursday, August 25, 2011

Thursday Morning Practice Blast Prompts II 08:23

When I woke up I was in a dark room

Do you like pie?

It may be fog, but it isn’t fog


I could do nothing except listen


The Weight of the average child

Simple Simon

Some still protruded from his chest


On the other hand, a maggot


The evening slips into you as you slip into the evening

Black Butterfly, BLACK.

A dried out dog.

The world of lost poems

Not to have fire, to have only water

The decorators are here

My dark father, our dark fathers

Grim houses, dusty streets, the sound of waste

So this God, I mean…

Moon Fingers

The same skin is not the same skin

Some back-alley in Marseilles

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