a poem for today, 16 July 2012
[a word-sorted sonnet of ten sentences and its image]
The body is the only concrete instance for desolate individuals aspiring to enjoyment.
In such open situations, a new form of life has to be invented.
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Nobody ever has the right to declare himself depositary of the Spirit's self-knowledge.
I say no and ask the taxi driver to turn the radio up.
They can kiss my ass on the pink.
In the center of the shop there was a void, a huge hole.
Commercial spaces can still be sacred.
The mouth is a sacred and intimate portal.