i got tumbled over creeks over mountains and even over the stroke of roots like "have you ever been a permanent walking sound?"the earth was raised in meek hillocks distending the asphalt like lovely thronging arteries of full and with gilt split pavement just up over them ,gilt with the song of a dying star, crusted on them as they split the yoke of the hard scramble of tightly packed firm loosing."a tree is sound that i have tasted when i was just young struck moments of flesh as thin as the instants that i was then when i was in forests and in ponds and the silk of water drowned the heat of long suffering summer drawn cheeks(we called them days but really they were just the paneless leaves of glass i spun myself through as like a stretch of damped slightly fingers, sticky slightly, i picked up some flecks of seconds shorn and fluttering to my skin they stuck)tanned and brushed with the rosy tattoo of my heart down a little just a bit in my chest. I was in the golden state and i had heard my mother call me as the twill of friscalating nice illuminant brushes played against my ***** blond hair and i was pulled from them the moments of youth stabbed instants and i was pulled right up back to now where i am sitting just another second dead.