Monday, 6 April 2015

The memorial recipe

for these flavours which gloop from off the glittering string.

Ground up flies make spider's silk and your masticated annoyance can be combined with the past in such a way as to create a dew draped net of wonder. Once this net is cast it can sink down and settle only in the present, everything it catches is the future.

When you empty yourself it is a rope tugged through bodily.



A glittering string pushed in via the nose, to be removed below.

Attached to this rigging there will be great reams of the shamed and the shimmering, memorials and simpering temptation anew. One might eat the rope, so alluring are these besotted and besmirched flags. Eat and pull through again, your body and memory become a corroborated pulley system. The great weight of who and what and when as "you" begins to move... Up and down, up and down. Barely anything.



Does the string still glitter?


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