The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


Birdsong


Or are you her
You go in her Carla Aurora Colorado or her or her or her
  and her uncle or her or her and her are her or her or
  her or her or her or her or herher
Are you and Shane Shane Shane
Are you in an you and her are her and her
Are you in an you and her are her and her
Are you in an you and her are her and her


[ I write this. I invent nothing. I am known for
nothing. I have no cleverness. Those sayings aren't
  mine. I have no product. I have no product plan.
I am not an entrepreneur. I have no marketing
affinity. I cannot replace all you know about
something with something else revolutionary. I am
tossed. Today I noted my neural twitches come more
often. Today I noted whether something revolves
clockwise or anti-clockwise depends on the
location of the observer. I am too late for
personal genetic engineering. I shall die sooner
than most of my age group. The very stress that
threatens to bind me to the world will kill me.
I worry constantly about my partner. I cry over
the smallest most vulnerable specks of the
world. Or are you her, Carla Aurora Colorado,
or her or her or her, and her, are her, and her. ]

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