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Post by Steve on Sept 21, 2005 2:28:37 GMT -5
i am by jackson's hand beneath my ohio dirt top coat there is a riot 'o' blue red grey black tan purple- his 3 fifths a night walking down neon day lit streets that were darker to him than closed eye in the desert, his lips in december new york, all his bruise sky life filled with western soils navajo red sores and fading coral scars-
i walk on hands with mile long fingers see with denial heaven eyes think with a mind of swirls insectual writhing drips inch thick
i am from jackson's fear behind my rain fell clay eyes there is hurt of infinite kind
but you are world world adored jackson, found what left his hand beautiful and you tell me of my beauty so i must say thanK yUo jackson.
and {insert name} i will live out these colours brush strokes drunken fears as much a part of me as these dead clay pot eyes, on whichever wall you desire.
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