Wednesday, September 12, 2007



pigeon race starting gate

1 comment:

  1. Let fly the doves of war.
    Let slip the pidgeons, paragons of patriarchy.
    For the end times are come.
    Hearken to me as I tell you all that the time of death has come to this land.
    Seedlings quiver and wail for your time in the sun was too short.
    Seed stock mature, weep for your loss as the world comes to a close.

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