draft

img_20160306_071846.jpg

there are plenty of fine things in the

world. the gilt

at the rusting edges of an unwound

clock. and more

the rare breed

of potato chip

metastasizing into

a cult, legion

or treatment of

something

once happening

between the

ears of

us: big old donkey ears.

Us: yoked, cracked, sensitive to the sound of the

Whip tattooing our hides with gold.

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