Thursday 2/15/2007 12:01:00 AM

There are random letters and there are ran dom letters. Some make words. Or ciphers to be solved. Turned into fertilizer like animal shit is. Others just don't have or don't want to be decrypted.

We had snatched the last of the summer off of the stillest branch. I remember looking up at him so high on that ladder and wondering not if, but when he'd fall. A curious type of deju vu where the situation is alien, but the outcome so familiar. I guess you could call it random. Since everything is.

There are cycles that yield warmth. The flower spawn. The sun sweats all over us from the grind of its treadmill. And for that little while we can stop.

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