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Board Administrator Username: mjm Post Number: 4303 Registered: 11-1998 |
Honorable Mention The Hunt Treezaa (T.E. Ballard) I am tourist in my own land. Countrymen offer no maps, longitude, latitude are measured by hand, distance of breath. Truth is everywhere, madness of red, an opening— in everything we loose ourselves, it is safer, possibility of ropes wrapped around hands. Remember the fox, how she hides from the hunter, runs from the hounds, swallows her sharp teeth. I tell you, if she knew her own madness, heels of the hounds would be bloody, and men would cry in disbelief. |
