14 June 2006


An Excerpt From a Work Found in the Rubble After the Demolition at the Headquarters of the Bureau of Surrealistic Research

You asked for a love note. The giraffes gave me a script for love talking. We sang songs of forests burning in purple flames. The world has been been destroyed so many times and has rebuilt itself each time. We dig in the ground for artifacts. Find combs and broken hearts. No one expects this to continue, and yet it does, forever. The rain is red. The wine is dust. We plant seeds from meteorites and do not recognize the plants that grow. Which is love? The not knowing or the accepting? They will be here soon with wrecking ball.


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