The train whistle sounds,
coming through town,
as the snow filters in,
with the smoke again
my mind remains
at White Fish Point.
Hollah! Mada'in Saleh
7 years ago
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Song Streams
"Human speech is like a cracked kettle on which we tap crude
rhythms for bears to dance to, while we long to make music
that will melt the stars."
Gustave Flubert
Choral Voices
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1 comment:
Beautiful picture and words. I'm there too
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