In time theology is inhaled from the hookah and exhaled out the mouth of the philosopher puppet.A dream of my ancestors shatters in a broken bottle and refracts the fact that I am a broken link in the daisy chain and had better blossom mightily.
Returned to me on Judgment Day: favorite pens, a few socks, garbled text messages, keys, and the name of the boy kissed in the soccer shorts.
In this case, fear is not a response to danger. Fear relies on such possibility. His wife hung from his toes Harry Truman with a rope.
I lied: I wore the soccer shorts and made up his name.
New difference is not a sound alarm. Waves of flame spurn ideology, spurt. Major angel disbelieves occurred. To the firebird, ashes he stirs.
Fast car, babe, all want: sit in winter in shirtsleeves, puzzling bonging koans. Ka-chunk! Pressed hope, a beaver's dam of consciousness. Tomorrow I will work the names of tomorrow.
Is the Alamo yet forgotten? Unsure to rally, unsure what oppress. Bowie had a big long knife. Throughout history, a centenarian has been an uncommon centenarian, and a centurion suffered slings and arrows.
I mourn eventually loss of soccer shorts. Unbuttoned, a similarity differs from actual itself. This is a historical moment.
Pointlessness: timeline in knots of who drinks eternity as pass it comes.
I had a balogna sandwich for lunch today. Oops, I forgot my Coke and lettuce and mayonnaise. On what bread, on a roll? Then I ate something else.
Why ignore that cornflower because the field filled? Sky blue, a missing leaf, on the field fills.
An amalgam: well-muscled calves, bare, used to kick a ball. Chart wandering imagination as it tumbles into comparative resemblance.
Ritual: there is comfort and endless unfixable nuance.
Play the game, don the shorts, and let someone else keep score.
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