Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known but lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness, consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle parts, it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..
Friday, March 14, 2014
A strangely intriguing collection of poems that capture the mood of the late '80s/early '90s perfectly. Reminds me of Sharon Olds' mid-career in terms of theme; spirituality, politics, war, death, sex. Every piece in here has such precise focus.
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