- STEAMPUNK is the sound my sleep makes, it is a television of matter, a warthog, the raincoats in succession whisper to me the symphony. STEAMPUNK yes rests. On the poolside, flapping, nevermind, this benefit to all the watchers, You watchers, yes. I know You like I know the white shelves You hold forth. You and your idiot jeans. Drink up STEAMPUNK. Drink out this purple edge and feign we are children of the twirl. We are the bodies of what we are doing. A point of view upon a loom, a wharf of weather, yes you.
|
Writing
|
|
