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ain't no progress
clam shell bake sale cleave those in two to
find a record catch throw the smallest ones
back, crack the shells of the big ones, use
two hands, let your tongue do the walking,
the grotesque body spread open, the bloated
mind, coated in thought. the smallest part to
the largest part together side by side packed
like a tight tin can. the speed of time
arranges us in rows, ticking off names and
assigning seats. here I am at the end of next
week waiting to meet you at the train with a
bag full of ash and a mouth full of sticks.
when only last week I lounged around my
mind a balloon on a string floating up to the
ceiling, floating up to the sun.
~ words: Emma Barnes, NewZealand/Japan (Elbows on the Table)
image: Peter Schwartz, Maine (amnesia diary)
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