in a frank lloyd wright house (dream)

celexico calls today home, bearings come loose and i'm string up at the rafters in the walkway by the vending machines (outside it's raining heat) i found myself imagining my hands across them like fingers up a woman's back, it turns out when people watch things like this they think mostly about crazy people and i am one

aparently

at some point, on some tired sunday morning a man leaned over his desk (this is what baffles me) and scralwed out these rafters onto a blueprint and now here they are here they are

who says miracles don't exist?

and lightly tapped the walls (whitewash maybe) i close my fist barely at all and knock at it like on doors imagining that some funny little old creature of a human being will open teh wall and come out and i can ask him or her just how on earth they thought of such a building.

2004-06-22 | 4:10 p.m.
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