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Sept. 26, 2008 The moon was see-through, winking to the earth also. In the skies, so many birds came and went. Sometimes by the large roads, those birds swung around in groups of what must have been hundreds, and when they did it on a highway it could be breathtaking. Black birds so numerous forming a being in sync so agile and the movement is like a song. Far away later, it became night, and an old laughing witch by a chemical ravine sat by a post eating grapes and throwing marbles. The air swirls, the lightning lights, and the earth sways. Fairs with streams of people, and streams with groups of sprites, where the owls watch, where the leaves tumble, where the ghosts grumble. Trains whistle, and foxes run up hills. That cold air is sleeping weather. The old man puts spices and spices and spices to boil. Alchemy. One time, at the late day, the sun was there, so still, and it was not as it usually was, because it could be looked at and it was low, as if waiting for something. A long time ago, walking up a street in the Floridian morning, was a tall blonde man, thin, calm, but he would put his hand to his forehead to help somehow with the perspiration there, as the heat was something. Then, in those days, the moon was not see-through, but solid, watching from the ocean, light on the dark, showing some whitecaps, and somehow, impossibly, adding to the sounds of the sea. ------------ Email: Brian1750@Hotmail.com Comment on this article here! ------------ All articles are EXCLUSIVE to Useless-Knowledge.com and are not allowed to be posted on other websites. ARTICLE THIEVES WILL BE PROSECUTED! |
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