<~>14 Oct 2002

mud has no place in my mind's eye for this unrhyme; and a mississippi sky drips right for the time, ages or aeons or eras, sublime-all those vowels long, longing sing singy-sounds.... sigh. if i looked at you with long puddle eyes that poured, would you throw me down, as a god? my eyes are grey; their color they will not divulge.

wash away the mud and tell it again. the earth stains this tale of two, and more