Nomad Ink

Sunday, January 29, 2006


Not vituperative, not vermininininfested, not hideous.
Not vitriolic, not virile, not virtuous.
Not venomous, not toxic, not magic.

A slather of blind wicker pointers exhibits a frame for thinking. A fat drift of weather over water. White streaked on white, and heavy dropsy informs my posts of late, n'est-ce pas? Not much to quibble about, when the snow falls like rain.


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