Mixing the onyx dye. What a morning! The corvids in the lawn sight have never administrated the burning of Korans. So that’s good. They continue to unapologetically move nuts and skulls into the path of oncoming cars. The carrion (genetic lint) is organically certified. Able. The permafrost seems to be gone but who knows it may come back. May snow. Evening wants to take a night class at the Minnesota School of Poetics. But I tell her that whatever feelings she may have locked away down in there has no key. It’s not a matter of keys. We are not a guild of safecrackers. Instead figuring out how the bird itself has become a cage.
Tue, April 22 2003 » Evening/Quail
