stuck a shovel into the sand and it ran over the sides sixteen feet under the edge and getting somewhere ground water won't trickle for sixteen more but my beads are starting to dampen the sides efficiency is an argument about holes rivers are alive, though and a life that exists means flow toward the ocean concern for consistency will break any spirit while the modern human doesn't know how to put a back into a physical effort I'll keep touching keys: where actions become words and the reverse, self-perpetuation, or was it reproduction that is all we're doing copy, lorem, and you'll end up ipping the sum one more site for the water's web spiders don't have as many eyes as a creek and I've been trying to make something out of the dirt and the rain unsure if I'm going anywhere we is a concept that implies a flood and I don't know what to do with that either whether it's a boat I'm looking for or another way to get down to the center of time