Wednesday, February 4, 2009

the canal was mine

this was tonight. felt like minus 28. back to the canal for three and a half hours of burning cold. the ice was pristine. the place was mine alone. fortified coffee and smoke keeps the cold from the bone. more panels. more underpaintings.

more bad news. meet the new boss, same as the old boss:
almost one hundred years past the start of the first one and we are at the gates of the third world war.
the memorial nervously awaits the chisel.

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