Gerald Burns signature    


“Diverge nonsystematically from this line while paralleling it roughly” could be a
saw edge or Matisse arabesques (if you can go backwards) but no greek
key, definitive meander; the notion wants progress, the razorblade enlarged
for a wonder in Boy Mechanic, like corks with grotesque wood people that move
jaw or jowl the solidity of role, anything that need not be figured figured. Give it
to the most bored one to decorate, cashdrawer depressions in wood for a Bantu game with counters
will go back to measuring, the series with results, her body bending to the Centipede
right-foot dancer’s kick left slam we are in this thing winning it the
diaphragm sucked in to balance fingers in it, out there, one’s counter phosphor.
Or the black man in running suit spreading lotion on his hands from a pink bottle he drops
under the public telephones though it seems full still, anything taken from a crumpled paper sack
and used. I want to say a language not mine stuck this gum, restaurant airportware
or asking Gadamer what he means. The look of a boat upturned by a lake throwing shadow
tealeaves in a dump have places by violence, obedient only in place weathered figs only
gradually eaten, marker on stainless fading.




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