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Closed Circuit / Open Thought

when the body runs away with the mind, when the mind runs away with the ideas


of other people who think they are, a ligament on the back of a beating heart


are those tentacles that jelly fish have, without the cups then how is it a catch


digging up the jaw bone torn in half, broken would be the spine attached


of parting the sea for the sweet tea at the brewery, a long island poem on a beach


for two of me and the candles of the cake on the picnic table, I was never very


impressionable, hardly for my own jokes laugh, hardly for the happening of stress


we used to say we were in the egg, i remember reading that somewhere now and


again, we built a mansion in our beds, within our heads, from the library to the garden


and back again, for the cats whom steal noses and wherefore art thee dead yet, that


grave, your wife, tell me again, what is a nightlife, the shell of the egg split the black


half cracked and let the white light in, i wrote that entire manuscript in reverse in colored


pencils, i would change each color per page, per day, per week, how long did it take


there were a lot more words then floating through and through the prism, I couldn't


remembere where it ran off to, the paint, when i tried to paint the table green in the


room, I don't remember why, the crocodile arms of a gypsy man with a gypsy princess


by the tracks in the sand right by the spring too, it was hot, the wand, covered in blood


she said, don't burn it, and that's exactly what I didn't do and yet also I forgot and i stuck


a feather in my cap and sent it back to the black camp by the stream where the safe was


keeping a part of me in hell forever then that man had a dream i had a dream i saw him


then that man laying on his back surrounded by complete darknesses deepest hue and


a small child, just a little girl it was, ran into his arms and he lifted her up with his boots


and someone spoke then, or was it him to me, or what was it me to myself, said specifically


"he found one he finally likes" before i woke up again face deep in the carpet on the floor


being drawn into the chamber beneath the museum where demons hang chained to the


walls above the labyrinth and sitting in the chair before the blood was spiltt before I took


the sword I bought as a child from the store and completed the rite of the greater star


stabbing each as they hang, hang with the dragons for a second, the white shawl, there


you've found it again, what it is to create a reason to forget, forgot the moment i thought


of it, how many, three to each side cubed, the blood spills into the gravest of grooves to


fill the cups of whom, and when it was I listened to them, the voices speaking through and


through all things a mystery still to be, rounding the sculpture, just barely wrought from


exactly it is then where I was born it happens to be explosive being this thoroughly is bread


mold right when the light goes out and the shadow takes over the mindless dews reflecting


black light in a self luminescent garden beneath the ocean staring at a diamond for hours

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