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On the precipice, awake at night. Something coming, real not fragile pixel dream stuff. Walk in the wilderness alone and silent. Liminal even during the day with dream dread ecstasy. Walking away towards trees. A frozen moment staccato sunrise. Soon released. 1950s housewife spaceship sci fi magazine cover conflicts. Fern shade, moss under bare feet. Directional bird song. Limpid Gnosis overcome.
Sunrise tree fire. A rusted license plate buried in the ground. Say no to AI today. It’s better running with words. Simulacra fades from every screen. Beyond the school sheen bears look out just beyond your view. The fish you don’t see in the lake swim with ease. Don’t tell the principle.
Bullet riddled rusty yellow yield sign. All dirt roads lead to somewhere. POWER down is the bridge to silence. Unknown heroes pit stop. Art fart. A single red maple leaf falls.
More quickly now. Dead salmon float downstream their spawning done. Breathing not thinking. Leave the damn cell phone at home. Own dirt. Tired tire tracks. Almost Indian summer.
Are you ready for afternoon? Call in healthy. Run errands for the dead. The dog walk diaries. 15th century blues for lute. Getting on towards evening I reckon.
At last the sunset. Banjo blunders. The good kind of chill. Amplify echoes of kindness. Earthquake skyscraper shake and bake, no one died everyone was at home. Everyone was saved in the end, now you can turn off the t.v. and go to bed again.
Sunrise tree fire. A rusted license plate buried in the ground. Say no to AI today. It’s better running with words. Simulacra fades from every screen. Beyond the school sheen bears look out just beyond your view. The fish you don’t see in the lake swim with ease. Don’t tell the principle.
Bullet riddled rusty yellow yield sign. All dirt roads lead to somewhere. POWER down is the bridge to silence. Unknown heroes pit stop. Art fart. A single red maple leaf falls.
More quickly now. Dead salmon float downstream their spawning done. Breathing not thinking. Leave the damn cell phone at home. Own dirt. Tired tire tracks. Almost Indian summer.
Are you ready for afternoon? Call in healthy. Run errands for the dead. The dog walk diaries. 15th century blues for lute. Getting on towards evening I reckon.
At last the sunset. Banjo blunders. The good kind of chill. Amplify echoes of kindness. Earthquake skyscraper shake and bake, no one died everyone was at home. Everyone was saved in the end, now you can turn off the t.v. and go to bed again.
