2003-11-04 - 2:30 a.m.
half starved air brings creatures of pure love to us in its moist jaws
tinged with daylight, we beg forgiveness from those things which are soft enough to hear us.
we seek a voice.
we marvel at lights, we eat the linings of night with our reluctantly solid jaws. the inside of moving light is scraped out by our attention and the resulting banquet feeds us in a multitude of ways.
