Sunday, March 27, 2016

Robin Blaser [2016]

Trying to understand this account, as the sun tilts past the center of the sky.  
(I am understanding.)

And I am alone in the living room, with the vacuum and several pairs of 
shoes, listening.

Robin Blaser is out there, somewhere, doing the work.  Or he is dead.


I've eaten too much something, and my head is the sun, tilting toward 
the trailer park.

Repeat and contemplate, or simply smile, slip into several pairs of shoes, 
and greet a ghost or two.

(This is an anecdote.)  (This is an anecdote.)

Ugh.  Robin Blaser has become his own scribbles, and the living room has 
disappeared into language.


This is this account.

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