Crushed Butter Rock

He liked to think his life enormous in the scheme of things. Unglued, construed, and multi-menacing with stance intact. A cracked denominator strips the figuring of range and fun. Crushed butter rock to spread across the wealth. A weathervane beside the shack. Tactile tools to use to factor in the innocence frayed though staid in mental fact. Delineate degrees of freedom made for the mensch we nimbly love.  A breeze rock, a clock in bloom. Why not domesticate fervor that one might ford the tenor river smoothed across the glide? Sandstone purview tenses hobbly stock. Uber-able distance creased in mind seeking safety in a narrow blind. 

Contractions choiced from speech, that he may know our love and weeds



Sheila E Murphy
Art: Rupert Loydell






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