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Bags are everywhere snagged in the fingers of dead trees signs of last nights weather-- strong winds, high water. And so it is with life. The breeze picks up and we soar (the thing about veins and roots is) until we snag. Flap like a husk gutted on a fencepost.
0
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
In Iron Wilderness
Bags are everywhere snagged in the fingers of dead trees signs of last nights weather-- strong winds, high water. And so it is with life. The breeze picks up and we soar (the thing about veins and roots is) until we snag. Flap like a husk gutted on a fencepost.
kevin-mann
Written by
American
Aug 6, 2013
Aug 6, 2013 at 6:36 PM UTC
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