LET THE FILTERED
RAIMENT IN /
RAIMENT IN /
I DON'T KNOW
WHAT TO DO
WHAT TO DO
Trees of ice are glazed in wickets of light,
things shine about, not knowing what to do.
It's like this everywhere, in a moment's day.
We have to harvest something; memories stay.
-
The land is always a mystery; the paths are worn
into the shape of people's walking. All those hilly
ups and downs. To make a choice, about something
of that nature, involves a caveman's intuition, the
price of a past our lives have never lived.
-
Now they've put some swing sets and a slide where
once there was a tree : the surface is coated too, with
a new, rubbery soft finish whereon no one gets hurt.
Safety comes first in the land of the wicked?
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