Friday, October 24, 2003


yanked out of data for a time in space, but space grants nothing. nothing 'here', as we're informed, and too much time to prove it. when we look at the dark extreme, and see what a tussle has been lost, we register our complaint in dormant pleasantries. there is no safety upon the ridge, but electric storms and autumn's height. people go on listing their needs. a nation must protect property. further: a nation must be here, and there as well. such rot for our energy. when we're poets, we live forever, and everywhere is a place for 'our words'.

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