“I thought that if I scrolled quickly down the manuscript, I might finally reach the end. “

October 24, 2014 § Leave a comment

I thought that if I scrolled quickly down the manuscript, the torrent of words might waterfall and that within the cascade, the crash where the gaps between words slam into letters, all that senseless spray, I might look and see not simply noise, like the babble of media, social and non-, slobbery like a baby without the insight or wit, but sound, itself and its other, that measure that’s the same, where silence slips into and through indifference, groans into moans borne by the wind that tumbles the stone that flattens the bug that feeds the bird that returns to the sky in search for a place to nest.

The torrent, though, dried quickly into a stream, and became a bath for the smallest of creatures, most the size of notions, and quicker still into a pool, an oasis for others who dined on the bathers, but isolated to itself, until it turned to steam and then into green, these unaware, killed by the tips of their tongues.

I thought that if I scrolled quickly down the manuscript, I might finally reach the end.

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