CLICK CLICK There’s an angle I had not thought of.
Chairs under a blinking night of sky, trills of the evening shadow under combs of twigs. Spacial trials seeded in numberless wind take the stairs unbeginning.
Might artisanal is in the circuit of the spaceman helmet where it seals to the suit; on it depends the swinging branch of the old clock.
The carpet under our sandals, and under our legs as we sit, is rough. The thick paper stretched on the nearby walls is storied with scars, ladders of stitches, banks of blots. The hot electric bulb swings patiently, warping our shadows like the little waves of the large tide. The window is painted over, but the paint is peeling in one corner: showing nothing.
Marriage of the beam with the corner, folded legs in kerchiefs and fringes, baskets of woven nettle.
Free steam gunning over the ramp, the tripod of three temples hears the
CLICK CLICK And there it is again.
2023/05/04 #DailyCreatedOOM #WrittenOOM