Tuesday, August 18, 2009

pop iconic yip

home




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Belen, winds across the plains, if you bite back you were afraid of the thing in the first place. New York bustles, you are young among the world. If the tree catches sleeve then you are jerked back to Mississippi, where you married the hen eggs from their nests with your hands. Or like a woman, you turn seventy with the vacuum cleaner, cussing the dog hair stuck the filter, bang the filter on the fence line cussing. But you are young in the world, this is not you.