A burning desire to capture and bottle the passing breeze; to articulate the unspoken; to describe the seasons of the coming waves; to dress the scents of the hidden encounters; to perpetuate the dying drama; and to warn of the approaching fury of the unknown. On this adventure, you are invited to share with me, my cup of tea.
Tuesday, February 23, 2010
You Cross Your Legs, I Cross My Heart
What do you expect? A waspish lecture on openness? Yes my heart is crossed Because all evening your legs have been crossed That Is the hard fact