Hello. It’s me again. Pick up if you’re there...
Okay, well, here goes: I just wanted you to look out your window so you could see that the moon has become full, like an atom in the hands of a sexy, young scientist. I wanted you to see how completely the moon and night have raced themselves, both coming in first, colleagues admired and fructified, while I came in a last second, and slipped, evaporating, beneath an aggregate pine, the pins of its leaves glotted by arrivals of flame. See how the moon’s rounded itself, finished, and how I’ve let fall my complete shadow, meaner than any stranger’s wounds, oh Samaritan, who has no clothes for bandages or money for wine? And now my children walk over me as if I were only a name and not an absence of light in which they might think. And that leaves the moon, framer of ducks and barns, to migrate inside the racial memory of a lark. ( 3 Messages Left On My Answering Machine By Georg Wilhelm Friedrich
Hegel The Night The Berlin Wall Fell Regarding The Moon Becoming Full )
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