10:34 p.m. - 2007-10-22
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The crow and the forest. Caw, into dark knotted branches. Beckon The plummet. Cold damp earth. Mingled chiming tubular bells. Bittersweet love in the taking, the winter crawdads are coming home to dried up creekbeds, and the pumpkin pie is all too ripe to not be syrup. Tea leaves mingle in the swirling masses of shoes and coattails waltzing on striped crosswalks, tongues tied around buttons and screens vibrating with life. Tons of earth, below, the roots shake and the tree steps out and reaches with clawed wood, caw of raven, in still air.
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