Tag Archives: pines

April

The pines hold their arms wide open to me, and never tire. The crows are better at living, and smarter, we both know this. The stream runs cold and clear, clearer than my head, not nearly as cold As the … Continue reading

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The Young Dead Speak Ill of the Old Dead

They complain about the food, lack thereof; they talk and they talk of the unfairness of afterlife; how the old dead have their heads in the clouds; how no one listens anymore, and never did. The old dead shuffle with … Continue reading

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