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The Pixel Pebble Gala

The Pixel Pebble Gala

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Published by evan karp
A rudimentary experiment in poetics.
A rudimentary experiment in poetics.

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Published by: evan karp on May 02, 2010
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


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the pixel pebble gala
Inspiration leaks and then turns. Like a house without lights thatgets sun through windows but rotates, you never know howmuch light, which rooms, how long.Until you get to know the place.He had a hard stare and he was known for this. Frantic-tic-ticsand lag eye, gestures of There Already waiting, contemplativeAND desperate he suffered from wink assault. Speed Up SlowDown Town. SHOCK comes in, as many colors as you do.Who you are and how you love is the same kind ofsentence³incomplete.No one will tell you the truth and no one will hide it from you.No one can tell you the truth and no one can hide it from you.Like birds around a grave. Someone else said all that and I likeit.You can make noise even when you·re silent. You do it on thesubway, you do it in love and you do it at dinner. Why can·tyou do it now, when you want to?Never looking back battlefield at the trembling fount ofbloodflow finitesimal decimal digits infested with secular limitsNo gimmicks or gimmesNo getting it quicklyNo looking battlefield back Trembling bloodmountains flow and fertile fountainsrun for the cloversAnd honey your toastGun for the loversPoppa son in the ghost bullseyeThe vegetarians take over Tears flow like blood for centuries until life gets on responsiblyThe way it·s meant to be instead of lazilyPass the head please, pass the red cheese
the pixel pebble gala
What·s that? No. Red pleaseBefore that clots I·ll sop it up and twist it with my mysteryI·m still hungryEven though there isn·t any room left in my tummyThe whine of blood, whine of blood, wine of bloodFor centuriesIt doesn·t have to beYou could contentedlyCultivate, civilizedThe wine of blood is in your eyes like black holesYou cannot seeYou cannot hear You do not care becauseThere is no get it quicklyENOUGH! Is enough isA battlefield.You·re not fighting.You·re not fighting.You suck blood without even fighting?Vulture,You might find me wide openDumb wonder in my eyes mute and confoundedLike an idiot I take chances and stride isn·t constantForgive me I·m all over the placeI don·t do linesI color everything now and sometimesYou will find me glowing, like
The night was cold and wet. I found myself walking into thestreet because whatever. Sometimes you have to livesomewhere
the edge. I found myself singing songs andlistening for heart in my voice. It wasn·t too late, but lateenough that the people not staying out were home and thepeople who were staying out were still inside getting drunk. Acouple of men walked arms around one another in the same

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