Friday, December 28, 2007
EPIPHANY
Things work out. Things always work out. How many times can we fool ourselves? There are candles burning out there, there are lights that stay on all night.
The glow on the sill lasts long
after the switch is hit off,
but still we turn our shoulders
like the bows of ships
toward what might hit us,
and we curse the things that bring us here.
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THE DEAD ARE THIEVES, TOO They’ll pick your pocket clean, like that Ozark you left by the river. How many times do I have to talk to you? ...
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CIVILIZATION AND ITS’ DISCONNECTS Turn off your computer. I know, I know. I will cease to exist. I will return to my cave of shadows, ha...