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TALES OF AN ORANGEPEELER

an archive of pleasures, wounds, sublimations
& other curiosities :: elsewhere :: profile


02.26.07, monday night

The other night I looked at the moon through binoculars as if it was a blue tit having a bath in our rain gutter. Observe the feathers, the color, the blackness of its eye.

It was a white rose above the still, shining bay.

Reflected in the window was a thin frame of light, glowing around the door behind me.




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