72 lede

The painting had lain forgotten in a cupboard for years. by Marion Rankine

It was a Christmas gift from their mother, crafted in a period of low funds and high homemade ideals. She hated it. So did he. But they’d never thought to throw it out, because it was a Christmas gift from their mother. She wiped at a moist sifting of plaster dust on her upper lip.
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>i pine to leave with another poem to spruce up your day if that voluntary action wood be oak k with you??



matthew scott <hay4four@aol.com>Sat, Aug 25, 2012 at 8:51 PM
To: zacharyhblock@gmail.com

the following literary enclosed from this yahoo without any aim
merely to share a spontaneous sentiment, with no intent for fortune nor fame
if ye would joost be game

california's secret [bolinas] by Kaley Morlock

in winter
the foggy season veils
the tiny towns
from wanting. no prayer
flag decore or giant forks about,
simply shush the lagoon
around the mossy redwoods
and you will find home.