Tuesday, December 1, 2009


A dark corner, a monster under a bed
Or a life form, a magic number and some beyond the dead.
Knowing you know you don’t know.

Trickling the synapses
I find the synapses
Intricately weaving
A chair upon which two lovers slept
They dreamt of peacocks with colored contacts
Attracting a mate
And watched semantics circuiting the
Tweed of cultural traits

Beneath it lies a dog in slumber
Skouras relieving
As it escapes within the wooly mare
Tar black, warming the nightmare
Of an outer galactic Mexican, perforating teething children
2 palpations from diseased needles
3 evolve to
Places Grandfather’s ashes were spread.

Knowing the fear of knowing what you know you don’t know.

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