Thursday, December 27, 2012

dreaming

...since I've had the time, I'll let myself go with it.  I have wild gray hair and the weathered skin I've forever been warned about.  At least 8 cats.  Maybe I wear smocks, with pockets.  Brilliant sunsets in a dusty trailer park.  Nothing in my backyard but the desert and a front yard full of original "sculptures" -- collages of found objects -- rusting, fading in the relentless sun.  My hands.  I have seen their future.  Thick, curled. Gnarled artifacts of devotion.
 

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