A small space dedicated to the unsatisfactory imitation and substitute. A shield, a cover, camouflage, streetlights, bent knees and bloody fingers, billboards and pills. The degradation of eyesight and fallible understanding of concrete. Water on the wings of a moth near the flame and, you, only, come closer.
Thursday, December 11, 2008
A Drunken Proposition
Okay, we've been giving some good shit here and I think we should do a little more, together. Let's all do something, straight honest, about the city we live in. Story, poem, whateva. Let's do it Whitman estilo and find some love and hate in our own cities we live in. I'll give mine in a couple days. Label it #1, so there's no confusion. If this is a shitty idea let me know.
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