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Come on across to the Internet..........
"The way it was in prehistoric days
an ever accelerating hit count.......when survival wasn't tempered with sick leave incessantly raising her hand......................or with the tentative magic of vacation, otherwise soft brown face .....we are constantly hunting and gathering in cyberspace -- merged with the screen for days.................... brown grass on the hills... through sickness and invasive circumstance -- burning, burning, burning.....as if our daily suppers depend on it, ancient struggles..........which in fact they do," sleep...............................I said, had he been there all along?...........turning back to the keyboard......... low flying planes............. the smell of green grass... Mr. silvery moon...................... black icy streets........................ working............................ making things.................... blue shirt....................... making love...................... blue jeans......................... potato soup...................... never know why............... nausea.............................. footprints.......................... unwashed windows........... a dark corner.................... walking............................. riding................................ the horizon........................
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