Thursday, February 18, 2010

flashing wings that bark

so in the light of having my students do the automatic, i figure it's worth trying out the hat for a bit. it's easy to contradict oneself in the morning, the way the pajamas make fun of everything around them.

I'm a wall for walking and this half sandwich won't quit balling itself up.
Maybe not, the gears seem to stick when everything that's made water rushes around. In three days it will be stars like a forest above us. Inside my favorite parts are the sky. Grand and handsome a stadium for what we can't know. Keep popping the corn, keep handles on the stovetop and your hat in the mirror for when you need to take it off. a whole room of ghosts etched into the paper--Bowie says the bewlay brothers is like a parchment and so song tuning groped out like seas and seas of sirens and no sailors drowning. I keep saying we like I know you. And this is another way of brining a body back up from the ground. Wanton, shaky fingers dusted and printed. A sway to the blood. A bay to erase with the sweep of a palm. Don't forget.

And shuffle. And walk.

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