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June 10, 2005
To the Catalog of Collapse
I add the earlier coughing-out of a small, relatively flat and angular smooth white density into my palm. Actually wondered could it be a slipped-through chunka cracka hit the back of my throat like a scorched pot sticker, or a boog block gone south and saliva-logged for allergy season, or an actual chip off the ol’ lung (how right he was—having inexhaustably taken in so many bagfuls of the world to process its finer points despite his seclusive hermitty keeping to the body bunker in his unwavering hide-out from that thing—back when I was young and believed myself indestructible and best knowing, and knowing how to answerback the fearful conservatism and obsessive concern over protective boundaries and the blee blah blo…), or a gem of a lung-huck excavated and expelled despite its cut or its rare coloring and harditude…I’ve arrived to the point of sleeptyping again. Better stop. The indecipherable bio-mass may anyway signal the beginning of the end.
Posted by peligrito at June 10, 2005 2:57 AM
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