Thu, 19 May 2005

your preserved ovaries

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the light which failed to revive her

[she lost her breath of the first day of winter, fresh-frozen sidewalks
which shone in the sun, still not the cold that hurts in your lungs but
the cold where snow packed in your palms gets a little wet and packs well
for snowballs, she had her laundry in neatly folded squares stacked in her
basket then spilling as her hands rushed to her mouth as though they
could push the breath back into her as all of it caught up to her the last
piece of some new history now fitted away in her head so that even the
light seemed manipulative now, just another witness to despise her weakest
moments, the light which failed to revive her as light let slip the
blackness hid behind it]


2
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drowned in green breast-milk

[i was then a member of an operation rescue splinter group which attempted
to complete through marketing and merchandising what advertisments and
rifle fire had so far let slide, I was building fetus dolls with
Keene-wide eyes and little articulated hands which could fight off suction
tubes and scrapers, the details rubbed away with cartoon-like
indeterminacy of features so that each of them could be anyone, saved from
imagined she-devil monsters who would leave them in dumpsters at the rest
stop, drowned in green breast-milk and half-digested burger king she
couldn't keep down when she had seen what she had done, i was an artist
then, i made a difference then]

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that six am telephone call when i first heard

[missing]

(12:25.05.19.2005) [/scrytch] #