The more the words, the less the meaning, and how does that profit anyone?

Tuesday, April 3, 2012

A gentle candle flame burning on your cheeks,
On the sun-red-already and freckled cheeks,

Running water under the canoe looks like glass;
We are the only boat on the creek.

Take your pictures at night, of trees behind light posts,
And bother not with sleep.

Talk and talk and talk and talk and talk
(But take a special care not to speak).

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