Dance in the Full Moon

O, the Frailty of Memory

Friday, May 24, 2019

5.24

What if we tattooed pigs? Our impulse for art meets our impulse for destruction and becomes this confluence where two continents' watersheds crash into each other, piling water upon water as rivers of [quiet humming, small doodles in the margins of books, a sweet note in a bite of pizza, the feel of old leather jackets] art meet rivers of [tearing the knees out of jeans, snapping a new book spine, topping a tree, cutting a cuticle] violence. [Noun] meets [verb].

Maybe if we tattooed pigs we would get [it] out of our system as we ate more and more of [it].

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