Gerald Burns signature    


What’s a glass if not a crystal swoop tabletop crosseyed bit of teesquare plastic we utter
(that word, so evocative) it. Dust is unminded though (the ball on a nickel ring) not needful and in this compound
case inaudible, not listening to the elder Carradine’s voice. It is in no way a locus for inspiration, as I
said the shift as if a different relation to accessibility of tools, the notion of a
center foreign. One looks away, adds accounts to blank out from that blanking out
the nickel powdery.
We are balloon rather than bubble, the future not a concern – all radiating from this fused jelly
takes the weight of compassion and lo, bubble that you are there’s another under even more
delicately shaded, lily under the pad Monet always remembered, disorderly riot, approach to a kind of thing.
So a river is a crystal and I am not one, the squirrel tail providing camel’s hair. Nature
improves these cast metal pieces themselves gracing a polished rhomboid with strawlike imperfections repeated
in a sphere not here.
Mature arrival time goes back to the first form you had with the little bits in
front not to lose what’s unlost because it repeats, a paradox that monosyllables
bearing sense bear minimal sense because context is somehow impoverished, as was the Poussin
allusion though seen as such nine of them not in a ring but disposed linearly like some Graces too
far for anything but hint of drapery to show and the number, washed colorless by length of,
behind her eye it came.




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