Openterrified
Jottings in the openterrifield, letting perfection rot.
miércoles, mayo 16, 2007
A job
A job
is like a calendar with with no moo(ns).
(an infection, mutiple choosers)
Whose whoot?
Great-Horned Owl, I believe
you left. Nibble.
Mom (a poet once told me to say mother) says
never get in the middle.
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