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Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
alcohol numbed sense—
consumed until senselessness. . .
sleeping while awake
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
I heard that greatness
once transferred
through three artists
as they envisioned
upon the same piece
over the course
of our lifetimes.

One being transferred
their explicit mind into
the chiseling away
of white stone.

And now
he stand's
protected from
the elements,
but time will
bring him
to his knees.

I heard that we all
finished something,
but it was left to dissolve
in never has-beens eye’s

The same eyes
that watch over
an Achilles heel
that belongs to
the giant's victor. . .

And the sling,
a seemingly
unimportant thing,
would have
you believe
that the stone
will take us all. . .

Eventually.

Alas it seems
that they have
just exchanged
David's fate
for that of
the giant's. . .

In an ironic twist,
a flick of the (artist’s)wrist.
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
the great illusion
losing all reservations—
nothing forever
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
pen, paper, spent ink—
all the beauty of the world
described through artists
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
watch behind eyes. . .
unprecedented brilliance—
vividness within
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
blind eyes staring off. . .
watching blackness; can not judge—
lying behind: mind
Jurtin Albine Sep 2016
a puff of hot air. . .
my soup sits within a bowl—
steaming, losing heat
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