Friday, August 26, 2011


black hair
dont panic
it's just a man.

he leaves for a moment..
imparting urine.
releasing the tides of his form.

the specimen calculator determines his composition,
aligning quanta for the machine mind.
yet the organic opening left in place
reveals another.

a chair rides down the hill...
but something stops this game.

what ever was there to see behind that window?

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