my_indigo amy It's late. I've come to find the flower which blossoms like a saint dying upside down. The rose won't do, nor the iris. I've come to find the moody one, the shy one, downcast, grave, and isolated. Now blackness gathers in the grass and I am on my hands and knees What is its name? Little sister, my indigo, my secret, vaginal and sweet, you unfurl yourself shamelessly toward the ground. You burn. You live a while in two worlds at once. -Li-Young Lee 001202 what's it to you? who go blather from