Pat Gunn (dachte) wrote,
Pat Gunn
dachte

Minor Diversion

A sight of lonliness, a brief glimpse of a pattern, paths incrystal, a song, clasped in another. But you must close thedoor. There is no time to join the sail of this ship,and it will sail the stars alone. A journey to infinity,with batteries that will only last sixty years. If it isever seen again, what will be made of it? Alas, you haveyour own, simpler, shorter, journey to make, with thecompany you have chosen. Fade

GibberLandscapes decorate the sossander skies, melons and cupcakes danceupon the lemonade stand pitcher of cool ice water costs too muchbecause lithmus cannot be seen or foretold because of the disturbingsight of lemon candlelight orange you glad helm of singing and fallingbetween the poetic strands of lemon crisp cannot fall far enoughhappiness costs too much interest tax rates on inner dialogue and betweenthe things you said and what I thought lay many dialogues unspokenhappiness dominates the green party cannot afford to forget the measuresof the twilight sun stars measure the interminable boredom thatlaughter is the very last thing I would've expected because thegrey beast cannot answer your questions any better than I couldinteresting internal discipline beastmaster fondue melancholy measuresare needed to protect the way of sanctus dominii felis between themoss gathering on the northeastwest hens cannot cluck interventionmasses and stellar bodies between the heart's end and unmeasuredunbridled fear costs a soul too much and cannot be measured inright-wing fastidious bald singing dancers and tape measuresoleander hooplah earnest people cannot see between the gazes oftheir hand and twisting laughter will not net you the mean gaze of theperson next in line somber pretension inbred and laughed out ofmultiple harvest seasons grass growing and integral intermittentheartfelt apologies to the measured ones crayola food mushy raisinsand squalor

I always am capable of producing an endless stream of this. I've never managed to record it before, because I write too slowly, but apparently if I close my eyes and type, I can output it while still doing it. The problem is that I still produce this faster than I can type, and it's somewhat multistreamed as I think it, with more than one vague 'path' being followed and often more than one word at once being produced. Oh well. I'll get back to sleep.

Tags: poetry
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