People travel distance to come closer but some of us breathe un derwa ter though, method of tor ture: Throw memo ry out, simple but so devious in how it works, double oper ation: Fulcrum and load, inert as those erup tions of seafloor…

If you’re sick as a dog then let it be a hound dog, least by your blood shall you live. If you’re locked in a riddle, better hope it’s a tough riddle lest you take out what you gived and if Fate is gonna hurt, well, would you rather not be hurt but laying down in the throne room Fateless, and if pain is to pleasure what Necessity is to Never, we’re lucky enough Never exists… It’s true time heals and that any good healing takes time; good times always kill it or waste it, but you can count time with mistakes, would you wanna learn from a mistake if the second time left the first vacant? You’re alone now you can cry wolf… better cry blood moon, lone wolf… even loneliness comes in phases, and if the old wolf is to new tricks what Change is to new things where are all the new things made in? Easy come, easy go, but easiest is the hard go which takes so little to come to, all scenarios are born grave, meaning, perfectly in touch with gravity, which we then buoyantly cuckoo, and if Reason were a food, it would taste like tomatoes, whatever birds eat and spit up, but Reason is a bird of prey, totally innocent of everything without having tasted blood you won’t do. Like the frogs misunderstanding King Log, therein gobbled up by King Heron, we want Force to guide us and eat us, but the King Log was principled, ruled by room, radius, and ripple… Can we replace Force with Limit? Every melon has its rind; honey usually takes the shape of glass but not of the tomb its buried in, and as blood makes shapes on the floor, we can gather it up and make it pure in the ways of all men and women… If you don’t meet the river reaching out, don’t be offended that it doesn’t reach you, don’t be surprised that you’re touched by the banks you’re too close to to close the distance between an imprint and your palm with which it’s flush, but if you construct a proof in palm lines will it prove the infinitude of circles or only circumscribe flesh? In the river where we’re playing now, little blue crayfish are poking out: They know the mystery of blood! If it’s within your power to bring to bear without power motionless growth of the rays em- bedded in the dewy rinds of fruits beared in the same age, bitterness pregnant with stasis, then by the gift of circulation, blood and the possibility of giving birth nourish the roused and the wakened. Even if the same dew that never comes was once for the earth enough, Love and its meaning are sated.