Tuesday, February 19, 2008

I move into a new place and throw in large trash bags old trinkets like Buddhas and glow-in-the-dark Virgin Marys and candles and mirrors and letters and cards and photographs and manga and computers that carried me through college and hold all my saved conversations and pictures from so many trips and journals people gave me I've never used and autographed cds and cheap souvenirs from the south or the west or across the ocean and even though some of these things are nice and even though I could find someone to take them or use them and even though I could recycle some of them or all of them I don't, I throw them into the trash because they are my life and my life will not be mashed to pulp and turned into new white paper.

I will etch it not in stone, in styrofoam, and it will take 10,000 years to decay. It will clog rivers, choke forests, blacken skies. They will read it as the sun dies, swallowing it.

Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.

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