Thursday, August 21, 2003

played losses, frequent gestures, the name of a tune sweated away. in sense of night, thru making stars and instant distance. the lock of these words, not others, simplifies with the given sun. some numbers rattle the window, and the aliens are there. the aliens are ideas again, after a day of working away. their command of political thought is tool and telling. why are we so sure, when an embassy or what not falls? are we dreaming these clean cut implements? the telling phrase woke with us this morning. we were all astonished.

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