blob blob blob blob blob blob blos blop blob blob blobg blog -Jackson Mac Low (1956)

August 22, 2008

sound noise

You know how when you read a poem, you kind of hear it in a voice that's coming from the place where your ribs join? You were about to ask for your turn when a voice squeaked from behind us. This was a real voice, booming loud, sending molecules scattering every which way in giant waves through the air. “Do I ever get a turn?” “I think you should go back to Sleep.” “I don’t!” “Please. I was just joking.” “Got you!” Then the room went Silent. “Yes?” “I miss you so much.” “…” “I miss your smile, your eyes, your voice. I miss your everything.” “…” “Say something!” “I’m in no rush to push my projects forward. Since I have a day job now it’s not so important to rush and get to the point where these things are making money. I love my job and hope to be working there for quite a long time!”


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