Wednesday, December 31, 2008



in the end you stretch out on your bed - and you are no longer an ape, a man, a bird, or even a fish. horizontality in nature is rather of a geological denomination and has to do with deposits. the same, on the whole, goes for all sorts of travel notes and memoirs: the mind there seems to get flat on its back and give up resistance, preparing for a rest rather than for settling scores with reality. over the mirrors meant to glass the opulent the sea-worm crawls - grotesque, slimed, dumb, indifferent. among full-stops of the sentences that have never been pronounced. banned by the bloody finger of silence and genius ignorance. as sad as a whale somewhere in the pacific, as an echo spread into the hedges of neglect and eternity of yet unfelt, undealt ocean.


Post a Comment

<< Home