Boiarski
Pale magenta of clover and light blue of cornflower; fat pink milkweed blossoms and dark purple of a spiney ironweed. Just weeds, indeed.
| Boiarski Return to the pace of normal life. Bottle rockets whistling around rooftops. Thunderstorms. Record rainfall in the midwest. Long Weekend. |
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| Boiarski On my way to a funeral (not that we all aren't) but one where I read and bear the pall. Nothing helps you more to see your time as finite. |
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| Boiarski Focused on breath. In & out and nothing else. The moment is the only element of self allowed to be breathing, deeply, precisely, alive, now. |
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| Boiarski Empathizing with Orangutans, orange man, strange fur & face. driven to ever-smaller spaces. Tenth anniversary of 1st hottest year on record. |
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| Boiarski The small word is the big word. I do. We are. Let's be. It does depend on what is is, doesn't it? What am I doing? The moment is m ... ... |
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| Boiarski Brain wave transmission streams through space, appears in lines in a place like nothing then is gone. How thoughtless of me, never mind. |
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| Boiarski Launching a traveling thought surge though the electonetic synapses to the keystrokes pushing the cursor into soft curses of twittalingus. |
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| Boiarski Steady hand, crow quill, ink river, paper boat, implied thought, origami sumi, folded sonnet, plied twixt twisted twin electrons a-twitter. |
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| Boiarski Getting into quillpill. A 1/2 dozen posts today. Only two words in the whole book of more than one syllable and those two, two syllables. |
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| Boiarski Not a quitter, I am contemplating twitter. the bitter jitters, the frittering away of time in the litter between the sitter and the knitter. |
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| Boiarski Quiet rains. The lobelia, the bleeding heart, impatience and flox are lush and swollen with spring. Someone snapped the green switch on. |
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| Boiarski Trying to write for quillpill. There's a glitch that prevents characters from speaking when they use quotes. "WTF," as hero Lee Poe says. |
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| Boiarski Blackberry Noir is tasty. Reading the latest chapter of The Mobile Novel @ http://tinyurl.com/66r95n |
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| Boiarski Contemplating the connection between living in the moment and losing track of time. Absorbed in joy, time vanishes; turned off and it crawls |
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| Boiarski Mystical twist in the fabric of time and space, chronosynclastic infindibulum, whiling through the ones and zeros of the codified electonnet |
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| Boiarski Dealing with the aftermath of a car break-in. Took money, I.D. and more. Scattered CD's all over; disgusted with my taste. Feeling invaded. |
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| Boiarski Mourning 4 boys in OK, USA. Scouts are generally pure & earnest boys, the best. Tornado touched mere tents, threw trees, mocked life. Braves |
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| Boiarski Note the needles shake, visible wind moving through. Birds nest deep in pine Shel'tring spring songs loud. Dawn's sweet indecent proposals. |
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| Boiarski Ran into the storm instead of running from it. Water took the place of pollen, filling all the Spring with vertical lakes, wetness is all. |
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