Imagine recorded time,
like pulling a rabbit out of a hat,
Broken
like a thousand fluffy ceramic pieces
Firing
the imagination as it closes in on Death.
Slowly,
the future of every magic birth
tastes life,
like an old "Degustata"
for the first time.
Swilling
it around and spitting it out
Into
another magic moment
From which memory flows
like sanctified wine,
Into the history
of glorified piss.
6/4/02