We had a quiet thing on the soft groundI hear a sad rain killed the calm sound
Sunday, May 2, 2010
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Love.
"What I hear are the somnambulists coming down the hall. About eight of them. They’re quick. Right now everything smells like buttermilk, but the world is still distant to me, like a cloud to its shadow. I’m the shadow. Of something bigger. I think. Like the memo says: the world is merely a path made visible and we are allotted only so much time to be strangled by it. So my advice is to go out there and raise some hell. Like the somnambulists." - Tony Tost
God damnit. the blog is falling to pieces . . links are droppin like flies