Prose III

 


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In this setting, I give ground to the fire called emotions that begin to arrive more frequently pretending to be artistic expression. Sharpened pencils is how a philosophy works;  as children who go their own way, as ours as the water bill, attached like a tether to a bird’s middle talon. Words appear out of no blue sky. They appear from briefly done readings and wanderings around.

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allets
11-15-14
1:39p