Sunday, February 20, 2011

wednesday late

The customary number and variety.
A full set if you will. Or not.
Everyone scared, the first one, more or less.
Some have ideas but no account of yours.
Aligning the stars, bliss peace reverence. Ignorance.
To never tell the father when the child is born. Only the girl of many uses. Some do don human form. Like dogss. Yes. And all manner wild ones.
But to be a man, none agree on that meaning.

Breathing not more than shallow quiet solitude.
To sleep disappearing.
As any decent geographer. Washing myself to pale fainting. Even as.
Filling my soul. Overflowed though it be. With out familiarity. To stillness. Other times with planks of music. Some time strange to meet again a some other. Never known. Or not. When there's to be no remembering any way.

When there's nothing left to burn all there's left is to set yourself on fire. Between lines color congealed. Our own to claim if we can but say.
Deep in the sun. Beyond rows of knotty olive trees. Fewer to see than come to say so.

Some time 'round seven there's nothing left to say. Only those as came packing take the space. Some times better understand saying in silence. Speaking. Listen the synsethete. Here is the engine room for those who stomach. Then come geographers claiming what could be.

Tell me how you claim a man. His skin his bones. Or girls. Women. Whores. Additional adjectives available on request. Some may find offense. Or take it even though. To maintain a certain decorum. Paint a picture. Make believe for you. Those around but they are different. Easy even, all things relative.

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