Thinking.2

1 November 2016

Knowing how to coerce oneself is a skill. Drowned music and smashes of light. Less of itself like steam
evaporating, changing state, dividing equally, among many beings. True selves collapse and pick
themselves up on by one, across channels;

geography. The hordes of spring rise unearthing all attachments. Emptied outbox.

There is a multitude ready and we sit waiting. The earth is retained in memory. The earth is
collapse beneath me. Sand is to water a strange dispersed entity. How to navigate a muffled
tinkling of lost keys?

Confetti mirage.

The thought of returning his text lingered in the passing air. The cars
silent. Dust sprinkled itself through us, making its way upon what
remained of our day. Disappearing left us red and cold. The reply that hadn’t been
received bothered almost everything, even any sense of worth. The gesture towards the balcony signalled a
precious beginning. Sideshow stories sparkled like secrets popping uncontrollably.

Amongst the fields of wheat and canola we danced and played.





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