All Awning And Bugles, Still I Hope You Nearness
Light Light Vert From Mud. The charming flash of grass flowers here on earth, the whiteless flames without risk. My mystery flower you walk, raise your head. As it happens, Mad Grass Wants Us By Name. I wanted some not much. A light strobe wedging a way lint green, a place to put our heads. Only not, time refolds the bugles’ leak. Constant is the view of Delirious. A hunting sound. Lightning on a blond ocean went the hounds in thousands for pure grass. Two blue jays for a moment disturb their aim, knocking the shadow out of me only once to go out.