Tuesday, March 30, 2010

we are having dinner at every turn of the road. i am in the foreground of every portrait. a mode of appearance on/off the lights. black and white one action over and over. mother wasn't the same trembling across the border. a daydream thought without effect. such a meta-secret bursting through the opaque screen. a newly vacated landscape. invariably transformed i have no friends but you. a story is only an artifact. in our destiny on the flesh digital noise foaming. there is no such thing as empty space. thought is motion. all in the same breath.

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