Friday, July 23, 2004

every once in a while, a chord. it chooses reading over many other stones. it's a blues number in which Robert Johnson cuts thru passage into whatever doesn't read. it's almost for the sun. it's almost integrated. it almost needs Ron Silliman again. it almost pleases the root. meanwhile has no chance. the trench has been prepared. you'd think the act would be language itself, but it isn't. 'it' doesn't exist.

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