Walking Cycle #011
the slow woosh of carson thin curbs, we walk abreast talking of little nothings,on our way to the store this
the slow woosh of carson thin curbs, we walk abreast talking of little nothings,on our way to the store this
No time to walk. Sprint away. RUN!Enemies have got you outgunned.So run. Falling snow,Don’t think, just let go.Transporters glow. Be
bare feet cold toes curl quick lunging stepscarpeted boards creak the bathroom beckons
rattle and creakbones upon bonesrattle and creak counties disappear under bony feetrattle and creak bones upon boneswhistle old songstell stories
Streetlights…Flood the planetIn soft fluorescent light.Lighting my way, after a nightaway. Lost track of time today. My apologies.Wonderful holidays to
We depart at seven as always,I pack the altimeter and a change of clothes.Mr. Fogg is careful with praise;A gentleman
the rotting autumn leavesmurmur underfoot night walk, throughold woods and wet paths to nowhere in particular Because of some sort
harsh bright light,engines burning hot enemies on the radarmy metal body shakes as I sprint across the moon Inspired by
I hold my grandmother’s handas we stroll through the gate trees sway around usthe smell of leaves and earth bodies
the wind picks upsnow falls around us a shiver takes hold,the city whispers you wait as I listen Inspired by