E. E. Murdoch

Welcome to the seashore of my muse. You must stand in the way of my breeze as it blows, beneath the sound of my speech as it flows, since (as we know) when the death whistle blows - every unpenned thought away goes. I am part big city and part small town; partly obscure, partly renowned; all woman, all the time, and all glad to be saved. Now alive and redeemed but once blind and enslaved. Changed, I return to give thanks to --- oh, oh. Blank, blank, blank! Where's she going with this stuff? Is she about to preach to us -- about Jeeesus?