the rhinos first and then the happy hippos, said sponge, why are they happy anyway, they’re not getting paid for it, and now, on top of all that, even wilder bees on the jam. he wrinkled his forehead.
that’s a nice thing to do, said breadroll, throw some wrinkles on your forehead, a handful of a good selection.
stylish set, said block of wood, shall we make a move?
they stayed. flies, not bees, were flying against the window. doing so they made neat sounds.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
insectuous wrinkles
- kindness of strangers
- some lives are worse than others but the stories are all the same
- anything is good for something in the end
- we don’t like days and are at odds with nights
- inflate or deflate or put on another show
- egg and a query
- come to mention it a melody sounds like the other
- a legend is born
- somewhere would be something else now
- the trail of art

27 July, 2004




