online literature since 2007

Wednesday, October 3, 2007

Greater Grinding Grater

Sharp sound bright, night now officially over.
Wetness is warm, soap with slight clover hint quaffing.
Moves with might, infinity; tight skin covering

over intestines. Pressed, incidents fade to past; feces.
Happenings hammered, anvil of present presence ring.
He writes with mental pen in fated ink, faded.

Breakfast: Twice fried egg on toast; butter.
Late for first class; mental books scattered.
Answers three questions correctly.

Nazca lines carve his destiny.
What happens in a day happens eternally.

Eyes closed but watching through lids of cellophane
compounds of the future, enhancing the enhanced:
A lens curved to the impossible.

Waking he remembers nothing.

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