horton hears a julio down by the schoolyard

.perpetually indifferently in a heave of atoms,
the indigo bird of the balance beam has adopted the meditative lotus position of
a variable intrest rate to operational stereotypes.
One can almost hear
its thoughts shear through the void of processor speed and space:
"go ahead human,
you press that button.. try to drop that text into the proper spark, im
the sherrif of chai town tonight.. and it drops when i decide. time will become
the slow scrape of jagged cracked robert crumb flak jacketed fingernails on the oak mined chalkboard of
your spinal column before this page is even considered to be worth my attention.
.
besides
.
sometimes I would love to fear
that following my chewing on a fudge bar
would cause intermittttttent moving in blue
radio confusion for air traffic
control towers to wetten wax and woo you a thousand fold.
a wolf in the fold, i would wash the weather with a
shed full of tears and yardrakes and titan striped
mildew drumming out the last
page of methane stapled to the 50,000 miles
projected from the overhead reflection of a smile.
.
or is
there nothing more to wring from these stratas?
these stars and the hemorages of rainbows they leak are
of little substance to the dim prisons the exteriors so
volley.
In a phase transition back to the numb observer who
watches the water rise over what was once a body;
a human museum, I experience the act of drowning
in a perpetual skinsuit of the moment. A conceptual inuendo
interpreting these conscious meteors as rain.
.
and I am made of no answer,
divided by your written soils there is no interpretation of touch.
.
speak of war.
and rumours of war.
.
" foreheads of men have bled were no wounds were.""
.
...3mj

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shuddup
...3mj
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my brethen be multiplying.. closed by 3mj 4/14 2:51 e.stranded time.