surrealism

A pause for thought

The slant of the sun. The moss-green mechanic with his fat cigar, chuffing like a chimney. The little kid threesome on the gravel shoulder, fist-pumping the diesel driver. and the undetected grasshopper atop my dusty boot. How slowly I move. I’ve never been here, but I know it.

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time, out of mind

Skull and muscle Searching eye Operate these bones Live in the godly force of spin Walk, to a purpose All held together by might Night is certain Bright day is not granted One watches the great story.

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Skeletal

all the days of a life in misery’s company its dark bird upon the shoulder visible to none but its host but not in mirrors. its hooks, in the trapezius, do not disturb much unless rebellious thoughts foment. it tells what may say what may think what is self until at last the Self cries […]

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