Saturday, April 9, 2011
Day334 - hand,
The racing of mind, beyond the sublime, felicitous findings forever in fact; as dissolute, disparate dogs drunk on dishwater; with all that is washed away, emerges purity & semblance of order, for a time.
Where does a mind take one, during fall into genius; to clarity borne; a thousand distinct thoughts lay upon us in plague; to waste but a few in pursuit of the sway; this is par & yardstick, for the consciousness' descent into dreams.
Pondering languidly, the switching of brains, between infants of human & cetus alike; wondering would this, evidence that purported; intelligence of whale, to language and commune, to friend & to foeship, to love and to lust?
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Labels:
butterflies
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