artist + writer + perpetual home renovator

mumbling to myself aloud with English butcheries, in public, at times it is embarrassing.

i weep

the caress of blue, bluerthe kiss of the wind, richerthe depth of the poolsin the shadows of remnant soulsin which i swimmore liquid with sounds laughter and grief again i weepwhere is this wellof the rivulets of saltthat stream hotspring i am icehow is it...
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I leak.

I miss my friend Bill Marshall.I miss hearing his term of endearment, “damn it, Kathy!”I miss his laugh.I miss his teasing.I miss his wisdom.I miss his practicality.I miss his high expectations.I miss seeing his pleasure at a job well done!I miss my friend Bill Marshall....
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