A Day in the Modern Age
Thinned down to the point of soul and sew: pin-point, I’m right there with
the countable bunch: each bunch means 01 haystack. Technically lost, stuck
et cetera with a whole list of things to do until we’re done ourselves. I
mishear things that gain axis to my mind. Neat commercials of products of
my dreams stir up neat dreams of commercials of products. Done at long last
I lie down on cushioned empty hands, a rest and arrest together: a comfortable
prison.