let’s sit and eat cake, said sponge.
we can’t, said breadroll.
yes, you’re right there, said sponge, no cake, not now.
wherever we are, said breadroll, we both are just buns from an oven. crumbling over time until sightly no more and then tossed in rain to be hacked by birds and then soil again.
the Book of Sponge and Others.
annabloom.
roll with egg
- 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

17 April, 2009




