Small Stone for July 12, 2011

stoneA cryptic hieratic scrawl of black Sharpie on white paper, cascades off the thin blue lines. I search for meaning’s footprints, but the paws of passing night have smudged its trail past all deciphering. “(something) (something) black  (something)  puming? (something) bat? (or maybe  boy?) springs (something) (something) noz?” The only sense that I can make of it is that I cannot write legibly in the dark.
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