stones fyn gula but the past was written with blood, not chalk and there was now way to erase it unless stones were crushed to powder and no man has the strength to do that 000119 ... fyn gula but the past was written with blood, not chalk and there was no way to erase it unless stones were crushed to powder and no man has the strength to do that 000119 ... alphabetikal stones why are they so hard. some one once told me a dog is like a stone because he isnt like a cat or fish. Meeeeoooowww woof woof plop!! owwweeeee. wow well stones yeah stones are good 010124 ... camille When I see your face, the stones start spinning! You appear; all studying wanders. I lose my place. Water turns pearly. Fire dies down and doesn't destroy. In your presence I don't want what I thought I wanted, those three little hanging lamps. Inside your face the ancient manuscripts seem like rusty mirrors. You breathe; new shapes appear, and the music of a desire as widespread as Spring begins to move like a great wagon. Drive slowly. Some of us walking alongside are lame! 010718 ... camille Rumi ~ wrote the poem above 010718 ... knot meat at 11 stones...need to be at 10. remind me to never make fun of the people who cut themselves again. 040212 ... Ptolemy DCLVIII strewn across the field as if born by a scattering wind are these grey stones glyphless dice tossed from unseen cups yet seeing you across the plain has imbued these boulders with the greatest of meanings 060616 ... z nice. 060616 ... Useless Proverbs Kick a rock, scatter the flock. 071208 ... anno_salutis Years corner a stone With weight unseen, itself granular at another threshold. Just air, or water, elements or other words, cornering a stone into a reduction of sand, and then from sand, into layers of earth. Eventually back to a stone and then up into a mountain. Years curve through space like an infinite succession of banners, or micro-strings in a cat’s cradle or quilt. Every time you walk down the small cobbled path of your garden behind your house, having latched the back door after walking past photos of your children when they were still children, it is the crumbling of one stone and the making of another. 141119 ... () () 141120 ... () (see: the_singing_of_stones ) 141120 what's it to you? who go blather from