would never do it, said block of wood, wouldn’t do it. not a compromise, seems miserly, would. said block of wood. and stood there. i could have punched him, slapped him across the face, gouged his eyes, kicked his balls, slit his nose, pulled his ears, but of course that would have been his thing, wouldn’t it. along with odd pun. i’m sick of senses of humour.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
- 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

29 June, 2007




