- T. Byron K.
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- Added 02 Oct 2006
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The daughters of Eve fall watchful and silent they pray for a knowing which already becomes them. In desperate rooms, sister, I hear you rant and thrash a fire like ten million stars converges through time, this wastefulness is congealed like mired water, blood fuse, we light the candle til the morrow hour and everything is alright again. From The Daughters of Eve" Painting Copyright 1993 T. Byron K.
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