Have them brought to you, have them brought to you. Am I something so highly evolved, so precious I cannot go for the paper myself.
Maybe this pen makes me the box of Aphrodite, trapped in a box [this square page], unable to move, unable to move away.
How does this manual impotence reconcile itself with the creative ability? Incomplete or overflowing? Amputated or extended, into everything, everyone?
Pulling objects & ideas out of stream of conciousness & placing them into a painting.
going, going, gone
Take off, hoser. Labels and lapels dressed in their best. Giddyup there pardner. Maybe he will, maybe he won't. Grab your six-shooter & fire up a storm.
Mindless wandering wayward flippantly flapping into favorable holes & stoke the stove with stammering lifters slap happy sausages & snax... flip pancakes immersed in butter... shudder.
Thick black soot on heavy hands. Cats yawn fat colors laughing behind rusty hinges happy underwear for us all.
This page best viewed with a monitor.
You can if you are not a spammer.
Amazon.com 100 Hottest Books, CDs, Videos, and DVDs.