Peter B: Just B
about synthesizers and the invisible
Wednesday, November 24, 2010
some one has hung a net at the entrance to the tunnels, for minnows.
this is me and the treehouse i built when i was small, with friend david
the tree has since grown around the wood (which was arsenicized) like gums around an ancient toothpick.
i remember pounding these nails in
and when david dropped a bord on my head and i thought i was dead from nail brane
i hope my son becomes a famous musician with fancy hands and a trademark smile, some day. Marin's eating my brane.
but for now he can stare at the multi-colored plastic things we have to make his brane grow
November 27, 2010 at 7:17 PM
nice poem and adorable son too :)
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