Lithe voices glide
like spirits in mist
short words spoken close.
Closed mouths tight lips
give way to sentences, vines
outstretched tendrils grasping
rich air for meaning, moisture.
The ecstasy is the infamy
of blasphemy, to marry flesh
in intimacy, crying out for more
and less and more.
Tell her something perfect
he says to himself, his lips stir — she cuts in
“Everything will be wrong tomorrw.”
“Then anything is right tonight.”
Losing count of drinks, cigarettes
kisses, they blur, until
the edge of the world
is the end of the night.
I wrote this on my typewriter, October 8, 2008.
I’m aware of some of it’s faults, but I welcome further criticism. And I don’t like the title.
A. These guys.
Oh.
Um.
Shit.
Typography-map-prank trifecta complete! I wish this place really existed. Sigh. I suppose I should go back to studying for my Anthroplogy test tomorrow.
Courtesy the incredibly good Strange Maps.
The accoutrements of wealth rarely impress me; Rolex, Louis Vuitton, Bentley pass me by without even a jealous glance. Form and function rendezvous at much lower price points without telegraphing the color of the owner’s blood or the elevation of their nose. Here’s an example of a timepiece that I find beautiful, simple and inexpensive — and uses a similar drive to a Rolex.
Eco-Drive 200 Meter BM6400-00E
GraphJam is pretty much some of the smartest, dumbest, mostest superlative fun on the internet. Check it out.
