collage 1100
What is it we have forgotten under storm's weight, under / the movements of a line?
Old photographs find themselves falling inside a train and going… somewhere in the sunny afternoon of a Saturday in which I landed in this great state of Oregon a great place to make art and roll around with a large cake Greeks and Trojans joining me we form an assembly we hurry to join even larger crowds and when we near the largest crowds imaginable and approach truth we begin to dissolve the forgetfulness of night begins to descend on us and our cool red lips no longer call out What is it we have forgotten under storm's weight, under the movements of a line? Anguish— and how it feels to be a plant just to exist in this world which is becoming a vast airport replete with features and ground and disease that is what we have forgotten we stand up and start walking toward the glass trees and as we enter the forest we realize there is a hollow place where there ought to be thoughts
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Art by kimama