I live under a million-acre sky. My chest is open and my feet are grounded. I dig into the deep and dank of life. I have dirt under my fingernails and freckles on my shoulders. I believe in my body. I am strong.
I love words so I write stuff down.
Tuesday, November 15, 2011
let us go now to a place where rooftops are flat - no rise no run and water color drips from a canvas sky someone stretched over this baked brick town where I leave adobe footprints through yellow oak leaves that do not hurry to the ground