Friday, April 23, 2010

Orgiastic drone rhythm,

A neural net

Of temporary answers

Ameba in size float through

Our every day of

Temporary truths

By the second.

A catch all of change

In bone surrounded by blood

Enclosed in skin

Of contradiction.

1 comment:

  1. i think of being on the assembly line
    i think of immense black rubber pulleys
    moving the line down
    moving a conveyor belt before me
    moving one can and the next can and the next can
    moving them on down the line
    and each ordinary tin can
    i think of them as truths
    and i could hammer each one
    hammer each one down into a flat disk
    but the next moment
    and the next
    and the next
    there would be another tin can
    and it would be a truth
    a new fucken truth
    and the line would keep on moving
    one can never negating the truth of the last
    each one whole and metallic and real
    in its moment
    on the line.