« June 2016 |
Last night I dreamed I was walking through the graveyards of heaven.
[I couldn't read the names on the stones.]
But I did rubbings all the same.
Posted at 02:03 PM in Essays on the Unreal, Shorties | Permalink
gravestone rubbings, graveyards, heaven, poetry, prose
Crows are the dead, so much happier.
Posted at 12:57 PM in Shorties | Permalink