this last week or two, the words are peeping out. I have to limp to the machine each morning – smashed my knee into a post dark-riding over the meadow – but I’m free to wander over the keys. And I never hear the exiled blower.
this last week or two, the words are peeping out. I have to limp to the machine each morning – smashed my knee into a post dark-riding over the meadow – but I’m free to wander over the keys. And I never hear the exiled blower.