I want this to make more sense but it isn’t like I am a dancer dancing

I want this to make more sense but it isn’t like I am a dancer dancing away

the curse of a tired old gypsy. Rumble rumble and rambling ramble here is my

face with a curse of a flat pan.

This time I will go to a place where there is an

old fashioned oligarchy with crowns of flower and happy children.

Speak to me

the words of desire and I will find the river that rushes into the ocean of you eyes,

This is the movie that I want my life to be with children dusty in the front yard

laughing like the sunflowers whose faces are as full as joy itself and then there

is the need for flight, how can a man fly with so much stillness. Is not the need

for the wind important? Think for a moment. Make the comparison without any

deliberation. Find the kernel in the midst of a orange noon. This is where real

men are born with their need for aspiration and a longing for salvation. So why

does this go this way? It is the love of love that undertakes such endeavors.

Come to me with a gentle knife to cut away my history. It is time to love for just love

and I will not balk at the sight of a small bird weaving your story into the grass. It is truly

a beautiful sight. And out names falling in drops of rain singing the earth moist a soft

and full of the living! like the window above the sink of soaking dishes, the steam

rewriting everything we thought we knew. It is a good thing to find such

moments in the midst of turning pages, those pages that were dog eared

so long ago by the dream young man who is now your grandfather. What dreams,

What illusions drove him to that door that day where he turned into a small

spring shower in front of your grandmothers door. So sing out loud like the sunrise, sng and

roll down grassy hills and let your rolling fell tyrants from their lofty heights.

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