dmz

strings turn out (you just matter like charcoal) better than the life we lead (have led) resurgence in the tides of time (let's get down to brass tacks) and string the past up the way we turn up the volume on abandoned record tables, files and dewey decimal systems for the finest osunds known to man: we need great gorgeous lines of praisable music and long certain scraped out inner-sides of eye lid sounds (low level owl and the way work worries movies through marginal happenings) and we are so curious about last long gasp the last record last sound last breath of this man or that lady---new to find, new to gather unto, gather unto: let's get it right. right?

2004-06-04 | 1:34 p.m.
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