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Sits between twin bluffs  burrowing into neon souls long to be seen in a  future frame of corpses and flipping through the lenses of the kaleidoscope 1916 or there abouts. Mr Edison took full advantage of the moment transitioning for all time  the boundaries.Maybe Muybrige in1888. The here and now. The real and surreal. the equation is now unbalanced. Is seeing now believing? or is believing a reason to see. The proof is in the putting. Dead men long digested in soil and  ground  can still emit sound and point  a blame-full  finger Linger if you dare in the baleful stare of the science. quiet, silence, desist. No even virtue  can not  still the burning light. cellulose spirits on walkabout lookout from the past again and again flickering things they be.  conjure you as well as you conjure them. The end is sight at the bottom of the hill steel rails to nowhere still squeal to silence, The riders swing free and lite on Italian loafers and skulk away. padded shoulders conceal weak wills and weaker hearts still. Silver screen visual refraction once there for all to admire must now bow deeply. Curtsy? Vanish and still remain at the pointed end of   it.
0
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
The Pointed End Of It
Sits between twin bluffs  burrowing into neon souls long to be seen in a  future frame of corpses and flipping through the lenses of the kaleidoscope 1916 or there abouts. Mr Edison took full advantage of the moment transitioning for all time  the boundaries.Maybe Muybrige in1888. The here and now. The real and surreal. the equation is now unbalanced. Is seeing now believing? or is believing a reason to see. The proof is in the putting. Dead men long digested in soil and  ground  can still emit sound and point  a blame-full  finger Linger if you dare in the baleful stare of the science. quiet, silence, desist. No even virtue  can not  still the burning light. cellulose spirits on walkabout lookout from the past again and again flickering things they be.  conjure you as well as you conjure them. The end is sight at the bottom of the hill steel rails to nowhere still squeal to silence, The riders swing free and lite on Italian loafers and skulk away. padded shoulders conceal weak wills and weaker hearts still. Silver screen visual refraction once there for all to admire must now bow deeply. Curtsy? Vanish and still remain at the pointed end of   it.
geno-cattouse-1
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geno-cattouse-1
Belizean
Jul 7, 2013
Jul 7, 2013 at 9:48 PM UTC
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