rejectomorph (flying_blind) wrote,
rejectomorph
flying_blind

Lit

The empty look that pages had when they were paper was not the look that from this screen sends an electric glow. Paper's look was a reflection of light, not this aggressive emission. At last beginning to write on paper, I imposed upon it the darkness, which it then bore indelibly. Even the shape of it was altered with scoring, and it would grow damp at my touch. The letters on this screen emerge from within it, and will vanish from it without a trace. What paper bore as impressed darkness, now becomes an absence of emerging light. Now and then I become aware that the world has been somehow inverted. Now and then I feel as though I'm being watched by what escapes around my words.




Sunday Verse


Quartier Libre


by Jacques Prevert


I put my cap in the cage
and went out with the bird on my head
So
one no longer salutes
asked the commanding officer
No
one no longer salutes
replied the bird
Ah good
excuse me I thought one saluted
said the commanding officer
You are fully excused everybody makes mistakes
said the bird.



-translated by Lawrence Ferlinghetti





I had to feed the optical mouse another pair of batteries. It is more piglet than mouse.
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