Monday, November 29, 2010

strange writings from my room

I've been cleaning my room, which is inordinately satisfying.

The unexpected thrills include coming across bits you forgot you wrote and feeling like you're reading the work of a stranger. It's weird.

Here's one poem... yes, let's call it a poem... that I found. I think I must've written it last year some time.


everything is charming everything
blood guiding blood
(dark magic of the theatre)
we expect a new person
like the buxom blonde in
the box, chopped up and
restored at the wave of a wand.
But people are not
made new but
a paler shade of
life. Yes?
We want new. We want
miracle oracle
sublime molecule.
We get the washing up.

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