Whare are your eternal nows made of? Blood & bone or sticks & stones?
About Me
- sharron and jaeson
- we clang about the pots. They echo like a thought. I kiss her like a paint smear. And all my loving is artful. Then I taste the flourescence like an autumn inhale. It all feels like spring and winter all regrowing and disintegrating at the same time. Cold. Wet. Conflicted. Sublime. I write all this. Making up for lost time. All words and pictures on this blog is original content. Jaeson Iskandar Copyright. Sharron Martin Copyright. Alive Right Now !!! (P.s. poems or words by other people will be acknowledged.)
