ORPHANS

There are some bastards in this world, that's for
sure. Orphans
are files that have no application to skin them. I was
still
fuzzy when I rolled over to pet the cat; Renee, who
has rolled
over also, begins picking something from my back. In
such cases
the body turns on itself, literally "eating" itself to
maintain
the disease state. Hawks circle over the trees.
I turn my eyes backward in their sockets to watch
the blue
flecks jangle in the dark, which is fortunate enough
to be
everywhere, slicking her hair like oil rolling down
her legs as
the steam of a shower warms morning noisy with patter
frequencies, engaged in absorbtion with change
spilling liquid
like consonance or consience from woodgrain. A good
train of
arias flutter with hummingbird panache chakras
lullaby'd and
spinning lids for thought tall and planes naturalize
citizens
from huddling masses to demographic sandwhiches; in
cases like
this the body literally "eats" itself, Iraq and
Afghanistan in
its mouth dribbling oil down her legs to print her
toes in
psychedelic show at the bathtub Fillmore, Bill Graham
quite
proudly out in the mackeral tracking device, registers
a redness
on the screen to survey less of celibacy and more the
promiscuous
cunning. I cum money, was rally for artfulness today.
Smoking
mostly, salmonella knows how nice it is outside today,
with the
sun getting closer and closer to burning the
toppermost popping
epidermal to bliss. To be outside today is living for
tomorrow;
war by rote for market analyst silver in peacetime
aging, the
agent with the Lugar reminds us, is what you too will
want after
the implants begin; round and around is a confusion of
motion
with shape, not enough to startle us from our
television pleasure
but more likely to finish shimmying up the gold chain
dangling
from the rapper's artificial contacts.
They're skinning orphans in the square again,
those bastards
with the money falling from their artillery belts. I
roll over to
pet the cat; Renee has already slept for years, and
watches the
circling hawks with apprehension. We have no
application to
confuse our motion with our shape; opening, we only
display a
prompt in search of a context of software. The disease
state, the
agent with the hunger reminds us, is the richest and
most
powerful country in the world. We're so lucky!


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http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/


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