Tuesday, October 19, 2010

Black Arc


For nothing would enter and nothing would leave this state of perpetual siege. Then came the word Ra and its obscene permutations. Aurora watching her rocketlove explode in the tropical temperament, hot water, hot wind, a confession, it's not paradise we lost it's the other dice, the kind in your hand, not the parody of life we call eden. The parachutes we call men.