Bixelmop
snapdraw. Ingle fixny balala. Igginiddle lah-teeshah?
Browbeat the
whatnot. You know what I liked the best? So let it count to ten if it wants.
But that's me.
You said your
name was Telephone. You said you knew how to float through the night sky,
but my mind wandered and I don't know what you said after that.
It seems you
wanted me to catch you making faces behind my back. Perhaps that's why
we tend to forget our dreams, to establish a distance between them and
our waking lives - because otherwise it would break our hearts.
The quality
of the moment - what's the name for that? There are kaleidoscopes, why?
What is the relationship between Moire patterns and the Mandelbrot set?
These are the kinds of questions that a chorus of ghosts is screaming,
screaming because they don't have anything better to do.
shmoetry
Surrealism
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