So much energy. People buying watermelons, boarding airplanes, watching their parents die, and writing poems about it while above throbs the celestial. I love how sadness can turn celebratory, the childlike apocalyptic.
Bees return to their hives, freighted with nectars.
Shadows rise from the mud, flinging back their wet hair and even though this seashell is very small, it's still singing about the void. Often great tension arises between sincerity and rhetoricity imposing vague profundities. Outside a man is failing to push-start his car, albeit a very polished car. He did it to impress ome skinny kid milking a goat after all. Let's not forget the head in the furnace, how burning is laughing and laughing is also crying out.