Sunday, June 19, 2011

Naked

Anaerobic, subterranean prokaryotes are what one smells most here. I watch Escher draw birds landing and leaving  until I can take the methane smell no more. It's time to boogie. Out of here. Am I wasteful to drop half empty glass, and muddy clothes in the marsh?  I ask the artist to draw me naked, flying away.


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