Begin

we want a quiet revolution and one with no meaning.  This for the sake of the quiet revolution.
We are the sisters of the low cross.
 we will sit down to a fire of our own making. In a loose gathering, gentle making our fence, and wearing each others clothes. semi-permiable. Into the long morning with our medicines, We stand loose, we stay.
you can kill your own ideas and mine.these deaths makes the sanctuary Here is the thing: fuck shit up... put things into things into things. rip and layer, also whatever. thoughts on thoughts\learn to tend it. nothing really discarded, \ We are the sisters of the low cross.

[o god]

The symbol for our tribe is annonymous. a black bar over the eyes, becomes like a specimen or prisoner. Only the fat example man in my drawing book has his eyes covered.
One more thing about bravery: lets go back

perimeters

I follow his words, mostly. I follow his paths. I have only vague notions of his perimeters. He does have one I know, but I think it is wider than he realizes. It includes a beach with big waves. Flippers should be used, when possible. The perimeter includes the exurbs and spaces in between. I know the secret huffing spots now, but. It takes me weeks to forgive him sometimes. Siow fiar I alwieas hiav.

following

Its hard to be a disciple. I can't say I would go to the ends with anyone yet. He gets pretty close to it, but other messages are lost in the travels. Empathy is not involved when climbing the fig tree to glean a few fresh ones, in fact, empathy, there I suppose, is a hinderance. I've been gathering, gathering, in tumultuous waves but the tides no nearer.

pretend

I said, its fun to pretend we are always camping. We saw some ladies sitting in chairs on the sidewalk, those are just campin' neighbors.