Itinerary:
I sat stale, reading Bloom’s ‘Elegy for the Canon’.
I cooked with potato, onion, beetroot, cream.
I listened to music it went Words are flowing out like / endless rain into a paper cup.
I returned ‘Gays and the future of the Church’ to New College.
I funked from darkling bench on the Mound at rush hour.
I coffee.
I bibbled.
I looked at a tiny snake eating a tiny mouse.
I lied.
Inventory:
Flesh: bruised wrist, stained palms, scabbed shin.
Not-Flesh: montage as masochism? Consider.
No comments:
Post a Comment