eclipse Posted July 20, 2011 Posted July 20, 2011 (edited) The tattooed clock on my back is ticking, the glass baby inside me is kicking, the wind helps me give birth to this exotic child of a different earth. Edited July 20, 2011 by eclipse Quote
dr_con Posted July 22, 2011 Posted July 22, 2011 A well executed brief and to the point imagist SF poem- Clear as a bell yet perfectly ephemeral food for the Fin de siècle gastronome to digest;-) DC&J Quote thegateless.org
Larsen M. Callirhoe Posted July 28, 2011 Posted July 28, 2011 love the word usage and play. opening and last liness are clever... victor Quote Larsen M. Callirhoe
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