Looking for answers
Observing the atmosphere
Naming the water float
I feared the horses blowing the sub cover
Looking for a dialect to speak to my chin
Horses and compounds put wind in my sales
Once only and lastly finding
The novel way with out breathings of hesitation.
Sturdy he is sitting on my last thoughts.
Monday, March 26, 2012
Monday, February 20, 2012
!!yay
Halls department store likes this shirt., grace will shirts for sale in may. Country club plaza , Kansas city, mo
Friday, February 3, 2012
he soaks the bear in the orange peel
: around the fire he sits among the embers, sheaths and sings there for the lillys that always twirl
always spinn
spindle and fire the mark and spin and such are the spells that perk
single and sure the bear grouches united together with its wooden chips.
that spindle spindle spindle along
Wider and claravoyant, bear grows grimmer
bear moves and roaves, roave through the feild where the spindle he wanted it to always spin
and the lilly frames the guanted quickest run. bear around the fire stone, clank , clanker louder spark , fast quite fast on top of that ill defeat. my pleasant spark
it belongs to the feathers.
the bear the orange the pool belly of a candor light ., shaking out its belly, perhaps a smile or a charm
the bears wide old furr.
Friday, January 27, 2012
Fashion by grace Avery
Tee shirts by fashion designer grace Avery sparks up some flare for all who love tee shirts. Support my tee shirt line
Q: email : gracemacascarilla@yahoo.com
Tel: 440 6557414
Q: email : gracemacascarilla@yahoo.com
Tel: 440 6557414
Thursday, January 26, 2012
To what he saw and called French...
He soaks the bear in the orange peel
He always yells and determines the
interruptions he places his galiancy upon them,
His shout was the end of his soul and he could not sustain a way to
un-invert himself from that place
where he waited for me to uncover his birthday, his nightmare
poem by GraceEvary
He soaks the bear in the orange peel
He always yells and determines the
interruptions he places his galiancy upon them,
His shout was the end of his soul and he could not sustain a way to
un-invert himself from that place
where he waited for me to uncover his birthday, his nightmare
poem by GraceEvary
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