Joan (audio only)
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I've already had a lot of them I'm looking at a tree full of tiny balls California trees are different thin eucalyptus more blades than leaves not hitting my face it's a country of tiny leaves no leaves simply balls I desire a big book about this not better than them but their friend. Who doesn't love the text? a book about trees it's like a park except that all its windows face outside you look up at the world & go: oh a book is a web I suppose saying you come here to go out an incessant trembling bridge which a tree is I imagine a tree my best friend & I love you on one of so many birthdays
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Of all the ways of forgetting not turning the pilot on is not the worst The house is intact you are floating in time buckets of it streaming through the windows youth turned it up I think or on & fell asleep Remembering to do. You are too intact the dappled sunlight on the lawn or pots of darkness like salt instead of depths Still once I turned it up the popping commenced like applause for the present tense the site of my sway Larry's new car is wide & safe a woman's voice conducts us left & right she's crazy he laughs again & again my shrink said buy it now about the car I told him about my phenomenal streak of winning & when the stakes rose I began to bid low & not at all I could have won; you choked he said. Woof. To not choke is I suppose to experience to hold it in & go forth though you need the heat The sun had not done more suddenly for a while it's like we took off our skin and said it is hot. It's like we sold our skin & said where did everyone go? when the weather's too hot for comfort & we can't have ice-cream cones it ain't no sin to take off your skin & dance around in your bones
you've gotta write clearer so you can be read when you're dead