cielo_pintado birdmad walking out into the evening the trees smelled like incense maybe it was the palm it reminded me of the smoking censer that the deacon waved ahead of the Palm Sunday procession wispy clouds and jet contrails blushing in the fading light against a darkening, but still pale blue sky the contrails, though diffusing with time stood in sharp contrast to the brush_stroke_cluds angular lines tracing back to the west, northward toward the air base cigarette in my mouth matches in hand walking about. 040311 ... grendel brush_stroke_clouds i meant to say 040311 ... thecatinthehat yo quiero bailar entre los nubes. 040311 ... pete bailé anoche 040311 ... newme . 040709 what's it to you? who go blather from