Sunday, December 11, 2016

Storefront Window

I do revere and love the image I keep learning  not to want. How do I?  Walking by a price tag that reads: this radical loneliness. Have I been invaded for clues into it? Refuse what’s been refused to you. Such that freedom to be a slave is luminous. Emitting light without heat, total efficiency, its gesture being the first flesh computer peddling quecards in the marketplace between exaltation and shame, I let myself derange for a while. Just long enough to play auction block with the bargain shoppers. The first goal of a freed slave is to purchase his children. What if they don’t wanna come. As if self-realization is a threat. As if they are never hungry. Knowing : the subject who was never here can never truly disappear   only haunt.