seasons_change_and_so_do_we raze the moment has found us. weighed us down. our words lead the way. what was our fern? a kind of apostle. i was shocked — kicked into curse by coolness — and the book was stubbornly compliant. there is nothing for it but to sit and hold all that wants to be held, and all that's willing to listen and be heard. if the cheering we hear is an echo, who sings for us? 250820 what's it to you? who go blather from