Sunday, September 10, 2006

sOMNAMBULISMS*

One two three four five thousand that’s my pocket comb a gift from my mother for the birthday I never had. Give it here you dirty bastard. Give it here over here you lousy bastard. Here give it here…one two three four five…here. Five four three two one thousand that’s my picket comb gibe it here over there here you crummy bastard…my pocket picket comb…a gift from my birthday for my mother. Give it here you lousy bastard here there here my comb my pocket picket comb here. Gibe it give it here my comb for the birthday I never had. I never had a pocket picket comb one two three four five thousand. Give it here…

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz