And, Afterward: Chris Toll's Pages

The words:

She spit tangerine seeds into her palm and you'd not know in the mountain of the city it's average loveliness. End Times Blues: the rain, heart in ruins, shuffles out of town. Lily waits on a corner. She does not fear. She does not hope. The angles weep in every book and granny. You can have perfection of the life or you can have perfection of the Art. Sometimes you have neither. Your sentence is the same no matter how I say it. Quiet your humming thoughts. The climb begins. Flicker to the fall. Let go. Dreaming is only half the battle.

And, Afterward

Monday, March 22, 2010

Chris Toll's Pages

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