Wednesday, February 09, 2005

Midnight confession to a god of improbable purity (p)

(based on music heard in a dream)

Once confessed
probability flies
out the window
to ears;
repeated fabrication.

Words are power.
More than words;
redundancy.

A picture
a thousand words
a song sung
green.

Practice makes
purity.
An improbable god
does (not)
practice
preached.

What confession,
what lies!
What god?

Denial
is a river
and there is
no paddle.

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