Wednesday, January 14, 2009

Rise, Sun

I before he except when we see. They watched a bucket loader all afternoon, which bored him. A quill at odds with how one understands feathers. Most rules adapt themselves to social settings and not the other way around. His father's guitar was black with a sunburst. One recalls how it echoed and rang.

Ask if it really happened or was it only a photograph. Currier & Ives were an early profluence. In those days, everyone was bearded and complicit. To follow seemed at times the only option. Creative minds falter as well. I prefer the closet, its coats and umbrellas that remind me of mother.

In the kitchen we were able to cobble together both pie and a brief peace. Toad eyes never blink. You can't say, looking back, for whom it was hardest. Five rooms is plenty of space so long as you've got a barn to go with them. At no time was the possibility of play raised. There was a noteworthy window.

Rise, sun, on the jack rabbit's corpse. He spread the newspaper on the table and read aloud that the war had ended.

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