oh oh.... because once I was a poet. Once I wrote and wrote and wrote not because I needed to find the hole in your argument or because it was due, but because once there were words that meant 200 different things in one syllable. And trumpets. There were words that were trumpets. Once I was a poet. But now I am a just a grave digger, an un-tangler of necklaces stuck in your casket....but sometimes people and their art make me alive to words again...like this:
PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE GO TO HERE AND READ THIS KRISANNE'S WRITING. YOU WILL NOT REGRET IT. THANK YOU.
A Paper Moth