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Friday, March 18, 2011

The Language of Projection

sooth's cells
tails in tailpipes
twisted trusted
flushed abyss
catching lightening
in our spiral signal
the rains turn in
the staticky curse
of words
which can look
and laugh
at only objects.
it ejaculates mysteries.
phallusies. almighty,
monoliths of security.
it envelopes like a womb
everything it signifies
encasing it on all sides round
until, like a seed
it breaks its walls
and expands
its nervous tendrils
throughout the abyss.

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