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Welcome ! | Home · FAQ · Topics · Web Links · Your Account · Submit Poetry · Top 30 · OldSite Link | 29-June 23:13:35 AEST | ||
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Array
(
[sid] => 139105
[catid] => 1
[aid] => mick
[title] => Bus
[time] => 2007-12-10 17:43:57
[hometext] =>
[bodytext] => It's a slow suspend of our veering selves. It's a slower scape from our colliding wake. This sequence of never worn happening is happening now, and full of time to delve under and over and out. These scenes of leaning cities, leaning on our will's of wit and ready. Unfolding and molding a land to bare a naked and sacred sense of same, tangled with a sense of more to wear. We can decide to suspend our veer and stay here and stray. We can, but we'll miss our bus. [comments] => 0 [counter] => 208 [topic] => 68 [informant] => matt73 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => english [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 1 [associated] => [topicname] => fictional )
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