Eyes closed, you listen closely to the music ricochets and rebounds off the dim lit walls. Eyes closed, you hear the notes and the ringing of the lights. It’s this narrow walkway, it’s this lifetime of electricity and earth. The places where the spiders gather, the windowsill littered with drowsy flies. The creeping flesh, the assembling dust, the weary years singing out through the joinery...
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All at once it was raining, slow and steady like it was racing a rabbit. Just like that, though the forecast had said Sunday. There’s no accounting for the future— it’s never where you put it and by the time it gets there, it’s gone. You can watch the horizon. You can hold the high ground. Maybe then you’ll see it coming. Maybe then you’ll...
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The day is bright and wild with bluster, a turkey vulture ascends a gust in that Christ on the cross affect, wings in a wide open embrace as it rises. The vulture slips and turns, surfing upon the rush towards balance, the rollick and the effortless glide. The sky is always an act of faith, the sky is a science sliding by. Something to look...
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The speed of light, the thick of dust, and heaven always on the run. This day, the next, the taste of blood and cinders. The folly of the words, the swindle of the soul, belly sick and heart broke and the on and on and on. The blank page drizzled with pigment and sickness, the thought experiment painting the walls. Touch fades, sight blurs, everything...
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It’s there in the clutter, dust and thoughts and unsettled books, memento and fetish and the foolish all but forgotten. The surface tension of this fixed focus, the tangle of mind and meaning, this restless sieve of ash and ember. Maybe it’s somewhere in a notebook from twenty years ago, maybe it’s in the marginalia where there used to be receipts. The same books and...
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We should have agreed on a signal, a safe word phrase or a tug of an ear. We should have hid a key somewhere under a rock, had a meet up plan and an exit strategy. Instead we wandered the world as idle words and ugly appetites, breaking paths like kindling sticks, burning bridges like it was fire season. Our skies were alway stuck in...
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The day is just like that, the crush of dawn, the bird revival. The day is just that way, nothing to gain, nothing to swear. Morning comes to everyone that’s still around to lump it. The day just wastes the time away, the stretch of the sky, the ache of the earth. One dizzy rush to the next, ecstasy and perdition and all the bandwidths...
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You say goodbye to the messianic sky, the bygone blues, the gray and laden clouds. You say goodbye to the books and baubles of the shelf. Rifle through the boxes, turn every pocket inside out, put aside the labors you owe to ghosts as you wander these avenues of the labyrinth. No one answer will ever do. Every traveler down the same shared path has...
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This is the history of the entity. This is the story of the smoke. Aglow in the ambient and the albedo, from the shine to the surface, from the ember the ash. Time is another thread of the essence, all double stitched through our dimensions, the resonant vibrations of our shaky seeming selfs. I speak aloud in idle hands and dirty work, in the rattle...
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The day is slowly sinking into the strata, the bashful blue sky soaking up the sun, spring tumbling head over heels from root to shoot. Something for the shine, something for the smolder, something for the memory of the match. From scorched fingers from playing with fire to the cold bones dragged through the depths of the atmosphere, this form rings with songs and ghosts....
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Two in the morning it’s all train wails and tv light, the movie moon so full and spooky, the simple spell of black and white. The room a dance of shadows, the only sound the recitations of the dead. All the time and what it takes right there with you in the wide awake. A turning of the pillow, a shifting of the bones. The...
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I’m not by nature a smiler. I generally haven’t got any teeth in the game. I take a bite of every line, take my taste of every declamation and utterance, right out of the horse’s mouth. These days it’s all declarative toothaches and the gaps where teeth used to be. Force is an honest player, it knows all its lines, it knows its motive from...
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