all people start to come apart finally and there it is: just empty ashtrays in a room or wisps of hair on a comb in the dissolving moonlight. it is all ash and dry leaves and grief gone like an ocean liner. when the shoes fill with blood you know that the shoes are dead. true revolution comes from true revulsion; when things get bad enough the kitten will kill the lion. the statues in the church of my childhood and the candles that burn at their feet if I could only take these and open their eyes and feel their legs and hear their clay mouths say the true clay words.
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