Post-nap prose
The beginning is in the end, and the end in the beginning, where dreams borne, are fulfilled in excelsis. The times are speaking, it's many waters subtle at first, but then crashing ear loss it'll soon give. To live in another reality, where it's done when its said, and there are no half measures.
The grand design of poetical speaking for all districts, and attorneys, the dots become lines, and the lines - drawings.
Never let me know as a organ grinder does, but starving each second for what is always being had, for infinitesimal moments are needed to re-load, fork and spoon of the deified sources, nailed upon pages as diverse as can be.
Moreover let there be no effort, whence shall come the ease as when a blind person does things better than a scientist in their laboratory. Effortless doing what is cognized as impossible.
The dream of words, to do infinitely more than they usually do, the cleansing by fiery trial, and indubitable Rorschach .... the power of naming things, come out of the cervix all purple and shrivelled, and like a massive construction company build cities of hiding, for thou hast slain the pig and buffalo, and 777 times there will be no forgiveness except thou dost speak in ever evolving riddles and painted curlicues, the wonder there is to be had, even in a crummy home where rodents are taking over day by night.
The grand design of poetical speaking for all districts, and attorneys, the dots become lines, and the lines - drawings.
Never let me know as a organ grinder does, but starving each second for what is always being had, for infinitesimal moments are needed to re-load, fork and spoon of the deified sources, nailed upon pages as diverse as can be.
Moreover let there be no effort, whence shall come the ease as when a blind person does things better than a scientist in their laboratory. Effortless doing what is cognized as impossible.
The dream of words, to do infinitely more than they usually do, the cleansing by fiery trial, and indubitable Rorschach .... the power of naming things, come out of the cervix all purple and shrivelled, and like a massive construction company build cities of hiding, for thou hast slain the pig and buffalo, and 777 times there will be no forgiveness except thou dost speak in ever evolving riddles and painted curlicues, the wonder there is to be had, even in a crummy home where rodents are taking over day by night.
46-50, M
