The cold's made small and slow, amazement
here: no sun, no sentiment, no impassioned screaming
is out of course enough.
The ground's, of course, resistantly equal, vital, and
overwhelming without horizon.
I'm not a part of loneliness, but this recurring desperation needs company.
Where are my modest friends?
In wandering, a mess of independence
strays effectless
but we're what's color
and we're why I don't want.

first before after last

Last Update: December 17th, 2008
I searched for, and found a delightful little program Darkroom that I've been using here and on Intent. The orginal Mac exclusive app is Writeroom, for you infidels.