Tuesday, March 9, 2010

Where Errands Grow

Long time since those grey blue eyes called me out, called me lover, called me hateful, and called me father. Too long since they caught me catching up to quick with a friend who should have never been and a dream that schemed without me to show you what I always tried to hide. Hid in rhythm, in time, usually out of line and though I am someone hard to find it is worth the journey to my mind. So come get me, read too far in, know all about me and discover yourself within. Art can’t be without me and I wouldn’t want to be without it. Painting hanging on the wall, left in verse it seems so small but put some color in those words and you can expand the canvas that you birthed. Create a remark from which to embark, even if only for an epicure etymology and the epistolary to flow, this is where you will find me, where the errands grow.

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