starting_with_three_words epitome of incomprehensibility Glassy_dusty_wordless snowlight, you_give_me_something_I_can_feel. Highlight of the bluish lowlight, a speckled sparkle: purple, teal, unfaithful? Outside passing insight, walking by, I watch the peel of glazes in the lemon limelight. Streetlights on the lawns reveal that colours never claim an honest solid state; they only varnish. Real disloyalty would be to promise all the cards and never deal, all the hearts and never call a spade a spade, to club a seal of iridescence on an essence flaky-soft and claim it steel. 231019 ... e_o_i Save silence_in_your_words, eternal_recurrence. A softer sound has more endurance, a note drawn out, a quiet hum of um and um and um and um 231022 ... raze when_you_put_on_the_glasses, june_23, tuesday_night, you were wearing socks that smelled like candy, red rimmed with black and thick enough to keep your feet from freezing. you thought you saw a ghost in the darkest cleft of the room — a featureless form that somehow still conveyed the grave need to communicate. it was only a smudge. 231023 ... e_o_i (Belated applause for raze! and now for some silly December rhyming...) One_winter's_day, his_dream attraction budged an inch. She moved a fraction to the right, enough to make him shake and shake and shake and shake. For she was ice, a sculpture tall - a queen of ice, remade each fall - ice-cold, and not the least bit fond of mortals who were thin and blond. She liked them plump, and made of snow, with buttons, and a hat for show; with sticks for arms, a carrot nose - but not with cheeks of tannish rose. And something else stirred in her ice- cold heart; a memory, and not a nice one to recall that winter day. Her fury moved her now to say, "Begone!" - a shout, with freezing breath - "Or else this day shall be your death. You were the child who cursed my beau to jump and run - and melt, and go. And then you wrote a ghastly song commemorating this great wrong. So flee my wrath, or 'twill be nosty; I'll be fine, but you'll be Frosty." 231202 ... e_o_i Anxious. I_feel_pretty? I'm_not_sure. Sporadically witty; consistently 50% gay, give or take a margin of erring on the side of musical theatre. An earring in one ear, a pirate symbol. In one ear with its bones tiny, interior. Things_you're_not_supposed_to_say: I_joined_a_band_of_musical_pirates. Why not? My dream_woman wants me to adore her. Her, and not Gilbert and Sullivan. My real man is not my man anymore, my "my" is contentious anyway, and everyone has rhythm and music (or music in disguise). We are opposite sides like West_Side_Story of the pond, but east_west is a relative I'm picking up a book for, O brother, one small step for bus for a book from the west - something about Woden - and I stall reading Ducks in Indigo after taking the 204 there, the 203 back, hurry to tutor. Alas, a lack of slack. Aack. 241123 what's it to you? who go blather from