Thursday, February 12, 2004

nothing came right or clear (here's the story again). Martha Stewart and that singer for that band were walking down the street. as angels. as a closed form. as an interest. as so much dust. we registered that President Bush's military record was like this, with flown to the most corner for a while. and there was also information circling around a docket turned to Michael Jackson. and the names of some blown up could be conquered in a moment on tv. and the dreams of arid aliens made a scene in some bar. and a football named Tom Brady soared for oceans or more. a rhythm of language over ribbons of point. the road point, the narrative point, the startle point. politics lunge on top of which we came to say. one cry pity on mountainside: to know a veil.

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