| - Christian Bök atoms in space now drift on a swift and epic storm soft wind can stir a poem snow fits an optic dream into a scant prism of dew words spin a faint comet some words in fact paint two stars of an epic mind manic words spit on fate |
Showing posts with label wit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label wit. Show all posts
TEN MAPS OF SARDONIC WIT
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