12.06.2009 Now I know why you stick up for her. She's radiant, warm, lusty. Her voice rings in the bell jar of your mind, the tone condensates the glass. Her legs are thin and full of golden down covered in wool and torn jeans to bear a subtle copper knee. Her forehead slops in an exotic way and mounted there are the eyes of a bride: cyan and striking; able to--wanting to mend the wear you've done to your clothes (soul). She's a warm hand inside your shirt that runs it's tiny fingers along the notches up your back.
