101
By if pascoe
and we as gods mold little dreams; pop culture fantasies, snakes and vessels that fire burns into rigid forms like we are. take the clay in front of us; this dirt between our fingertips is adam and eve, still red earth waiting for birth into silent life. and imperfection is our legacy; too clumsy hands that twist and squish, impress in mud our empty eyes, our compromised, mediocre, sculpted lines, not art but tragedy. Written April 10th, 2002 © on Apr 09 2002 06:58 PM PST 0 • 10
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"and we as gods mold little dreams;..."