Switched-on Gutenberg Issue 16

City courts recite misdemeanors. Manifestations of cloth bound paper. I am reminded of corkscrewed numbers and photographs without eyeglasses. Tomorrow: Love. Rain. Stars. Supernovas like atom-bombs. Generals of bio-wars applaud. Your work is done. The plague has begun. I have been quartz. Am now amethyst. Coal. Cousin of fossils. I have been limestone and water inside-out. I have been de-criminalized for orgasms. I have been written on bathroom walls. Whispering. Nubian. French. Etruscan. Edges and borders are non-distinguishable. Unobservant. Illegitimate. Intimate. In-articulate. Infidel. Arm-less. Night starts. Crowded. Kiss. Keep. Miss. Weep exodus for re-entrance. Repentance had lost its definition. Lips lose sound. Mind loses voice within voice.  

Copyright 2010,  Kelly Lydick

Kelly Lydick received her M.A. in Writing and Consciousness from the New College of California (now CIIS). She is the author of the experimental work, Mastering the Dream. Her website is:  www.kellylydick.com

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