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make make. today i made a feast. i also made three pictures. these pictures are okay. they depict people with plants shooting from their faces. they correlate with eight other pictures of people burgeoning vegetation. the words i will write telling 'judges' what it is about will be: patriotism. it will not make any sense at all but no one will question it because they would be arrested. that is okay with me. but. i fear for my brain during the winter season. this is the time when the sharks quit devouring people and crawl from the lilting tides to sleep in the bottoms of trees. it is also the time when dust settles onto everything only to be freed by great clear roars of the dinosaurs in everyone's future lives. these lives are carried about through the winter because the air is cold. sound and future travel very quickly through sluggishly circulating molecules. it is true. you cannot capture either. my head fears making things will not come easily then. [ the foe of time patterns overcomes you and you must evaporate into thin vapours coming off the tops of a glass of icewater. you must lie with your head in the gutters. a big RUT is dug for you and there you spend the black winter knitting the same hats for the companionless moon with white fog pouring from your mouth. ] IT HAPPENS EVERY TIME, as they say, just so you know it is not another of my speculative fears that turn to old perfume one might smell on ones clothes and "CARL."
by The JavaScript Source
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