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weight poetry series the bricks have you drawing for sculpture self portrait with pencil goettingen kunstwerk meet me at the dance okay? The Mumbler Jim Nasium i found in you the fireplace folded screaming standing with me by you various titles you cut me with my axe table we all have to go sometime finished
He sat at the lake full of promise and wind, the taste of duck still in his teeth and said:
“When I go to make something meaningful where do I do it, and how do I do it.....to make something?”
She couldn’t help but giggle, with water in her eyes, she looked as if she was crying, and said:
“You always get like this when we come here..like you need to feel something and do something, can’t we just sit and enjoy?”.
“Enjoy what?” he said, speaking with a slight hurt creeping in.
He got up, went over on his ankle and then sat down on the rock next closest to the water. Barb looked at Neil’s back and admired its contour, half muscle and half fat, a slumped over sulking walrus. Complete with the season the lake was cold when they jumped in both smiling like maniacs.
They would come together in this idea; here amongst the familiar rocks, trees, sky and water. Blue, gray, black, white, green. All in the breeze mixing the smell of each other.