Thursday, August 4, 2011

The Grail That Surrounds Us

One yearns for distraction, even justifies it. A cultivation of indifference, as if facing a mountain and deliberately cutting off one's legs. Booze, maybe. Maybe crystal meth. Maybe a black bear pausing to look over its shoulder as if to say. God the avenger, God the penitential. Early summer tomato plants a source of infinite gratitude. We are constantly in a state of evasion, constantly missing the grail that surrounds us. Fell asleep composing a perfect paragraph. Enlightening prose. Snow in Paris, old men studying benches. Ever linked up? Welcome to the association of universal pogo stick makers. Could be music, which permeates at a cellular level, in a way that writing does not. Thankful marigolds, welcoming clover. A stunning purple against a minimum of melodrama. It would be a shame if you were not able to complete your quest. First you hike the mountain in your mind, then you tackle the illusory ascent. One dreams of waking up right? One walks a long time across the sand only to arrive at a new desert.

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