Tuesday, June 17, 2008


Once upon a time, ages ago, these shrivilittled people sat around with daggers and leeches, praying that blood held ancient memory. And it was true, too, the same way that marshmallows squish and Tylenol works. Memories and maladies could pass along those crimson streams, from fathers to daughters to silver swords stuck in rocks.
Pretty, isn't it? I'd linger my grandmother's lace, breathing the stale pressed romance..... such a beautiful woman, she was- and I....I was meant to be. At her house was a shelf of golden ships with scarlet sails; breathtaking details of my naval heritage, just beyond my conscious reach. Just look at my wrist, the little lines veining out, like the tree of knowledge or wisdom- no, nonsense. But all those dark lines webbing out, cells with dreams infinity long. I'm told that every molecule on earth is recycled, life over and over- they surely must remember something, then! Look how they quake with energy, pose and negatives screaming and screeching and bouncing all over like they're dying to say something!
It's not that they're going to talk, though. All the little bits of pieces
molecular cellupatterns technogizmits eyes and nieces
They switch So Fast...........................our silly words can't keep up.

But you can feel it. If you look.

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