Black, the engine shakes. The spindle, worn with endless spinning, sings and shudders; red yarn breaks.
The crimson curdled dye won't take. At a touch of missing hands, all bridled up in rubber and black, the engine shakes. He marks what lighty foiled words he bakes with curds, bright oil, and butter while red yarn breaks into the signature in all his worst mistakes. If you force the bursting singed-red rudder, black, the engine breaks and, dependent on her slate, you will rake off effervescent rain into the stringy gated gutter where red yarn breaks. You never pass the sill if, black, you try to fake your way through clack-closed gates and shush-sashed shutters. The red yarn breaks, and black, the engine shakes. -Tay --------------------------------------------------- http://www.tayarrowsherman.com/ http://www.olio-academy.com/ --------------------------------------------------- _______________________________________________ Five7Five mailing list [email protected] http://www.pairlist.net/mailman/listinfo/five7five
