anjuli_fair's profile

Cremation obviates any rolling in the grave. However- Grain of sand, piece of ash, you surge with the waves, pound against smooth ocean floor, are packed in pails with chubby children fingers and reign atop intricate terraced castles, the queen of sunshine rays and trembling sea. No fear of blue depths when you are settled in, a pearl in an oyster. Nourishment of salmonberries- may our hands turn sweet red as your molecules nurture sticky summer fruit- your juicy orbs to be flung into a jug. ...

Cremation obliviates any rolling in the grave. However- Grain of sand, piece of ash, you surge with the waves, pound against smooth ocean floor are packed in pails with chubby children fingers, and reign atop intricate terraced castles, the queen of sunshine rays and trembling sea. No fear of blue depths when you are settled in, a pearl in an oyster. Nourishment of salmon berries- may our hands turn sweet red as your molecules nurture sticky summer fruit- together we'd pick the juicy orbs flu...

I'm taking you to the late 20th Century Wild West. Wild, wild bearded west where we buck tides instead of stallions and wrangle salmon, not steak. Rather than wagon trains bearing whiskey, brides and kin floatplanes glide them in. Where the modern era has no place besides the outboard motors coughing life. Where dust is not and fish scales are. I'm telling you about my home- my first place of heart. Seven cabins along a sandy spit which beach seines ring like a plastic floating necklace. Like...

I'm taking you to the late 20th Century Wild West. Wild, wild bearded west where we buck tides instead of stallions and wrangle salmon, not steak. Where rather than wagon trains bearing whiskey, brides and kin floatplanes glide them in. Where the modern era has no place besides the outboard motors coughing life. Where dust is not and fish scales are. I'm telling you about my home- my first place of heart. Seven cabins along a sandy spit which beach seines ring like a plastic floating necklace...

I'm taking you to the 20th Century Wild West. Wild, wild bearded west where we buck tides instead of stallions and we wrangle salmon, not steak. Where rather than wagon trains bearing whiskey, brides and kin float planes glide them in. Where the modern era has no place besides the outboard motors coughing life. Where dust is not and fish scales are. I'm telling you about my home- my first place of heart. Seven cabins along a sandy spit which beach seines ring like a plastic floating necklace....