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once a sunshine shadow, now enriched with iridescence

I don’t know what’s worse to yearn for the grim reaper or discover the emotion behind the ache disappeared
I write this for the part of me I’ve mourned and lost the part of me that sensed the murkiness and opted for another option
the possibility of hope the fire exists I don’t agonize over the deaths of those who are ever present spirits as I breathe
I weep for the tiny part of me that used to scribe letters to myself not my future or my past but the self that resides in real time
I am a sheet of paper the universe permits  me to utilize earth’s charcoal to write something whimsical silly                 or          morose 
to remind me I no longer desire to grieve the letters I so dramatically burned and with the ashes, I compose

Weathered Worth

Which bait do you prefer; wiggly worms or stardust?

November 8, 1989

Social distancing is not an avant garde philosophy! By Luke Young

“you are the one, you’ve been waiting for…”

One complementary social media session with Joseph A. Federico.

stave amplitude

orphaned

blood is not thicker than water!

Château Lafite Rothschild 1895

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