| outside motion it is important now that swings are still and merry-go-rounds are stable for a hundred empty horses. the sky is white with cold but in that lies a darker sense of good. the holographic flakes are fretting like a thousand silent bees. yet all is calm inside motion there is a kind of somethingness intercoursing through my veins and very now and then i feel the urge to... but my chair is still and my eyelids flutter. time passes. it fits and starts like the ticking of a watchmaker. |