neaderthal
1. I read the papers on this day like a thousand passed on our fat air conditioned pillows wide awake at midnight (one gorge falls) And never more awake than this and now. And a dreary falling down sense of all the doors long-since forgotten or brushed past or overgrown with blades of grass. (locked with the brokenness of dreams, the wind that moves us) like every other door we forgot to close on our way back down. 2. this is here, we are now and forever with these transparent exhaust sandwiches, histories logged on and off on web storage systems. so we sit on tribal aftermath shore and stare. Stare. That�s where the first bomb of our lives hit strange and overgrown, it looked like love with frazzled hair and frenzied stares. we try to forget. Instead: we wait and ask the shore (home of the first bomb sighting) asking why we never felt the tremors coming forth. we never felt the earthquakes. just spinning spinning around the side and down into the rock quarry of what we thought meant so damn much. We never knew what to make of the cracks coming out from everywhere and spreading like water on glass-tops our thoughts (neaderthal) left themselves to sigh. The quiet comes only after the storm.
2004-10-22 | 11:17 a.m.
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