

about goatsthe classifieds are so sad when read from perspective of intention's goodwill; "They need a good, safe home," rings so softly as to be passed by reader, but is the hardest line to write.about goats


Sunny Morning into NightEnter:Sunny Morning into Night
Him, the lone surveyor, His hands tightly clasping an object of no significant value.
Him:
Why do my hands wrap so around this, as though, through holding this, I may somehow grasp and grab and have and melt into its stillness, its calm? I cannot. This object, this, in hands, I know not its worth, outside the monetary (momentary) gain from which I have given another, and, yet, I know its worth will, in me, as I now hold this, steady, with no means but letting go-- Perhaps, if I allow it to, i
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vacantskies
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3.141592653589793238462643383279502884197169399
3751058209794459230781640628620899862803482534211
70675982148086513282306647093844609550582231725359
4081284811174502841027019385211
05559644622948
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Sleemo.
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And my soul from out that shadow
That lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted...
Nevermore!
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