Tuesday, April 14, 2009

No wonder its afterglow survived defeat and death:

somnambulating waves caress the face of the moon

catastrophic appendages flounder in the distance

Tetris calculations obscure the vision of curators and ideologues

under the bridge, skirts and hairnets hide true natures to the detriment of the whole

basement ontologist

closed doors that creak

open legs that don't think

vanishing windows

an unearthed passion

producing varying effects
nipples that right off taxes

drunken candles and eaten airships

by the terror stricken vandals and their captors

and if then eyes could neither close nor cry

the end result would be pi times why and divided by the time you sang a Donny Hathaway song to a girl on a rainy summer night in Brooklyn

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