Yeah, well. I’m not sure there was
much of a plan. Maybe just a
direction – or an earnest hope.
And you know how the wind is.
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Victory valley
How is it that not every song has been written?
Aren’t there only so many notes?
Knock and the door will be opened
Midnight longing to do the will of God
My heart swells
like a piece of ripe fruit.
It splits like a lip
Surely out there somewhere
Leaving, that’s all
Hill awaits a climber
Proprietor
Oregon
Utrecht Journal 