Manipulated Bestiary

 

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Photoshop Bestiary

It isn't for us to say the line of sacred and ordinary. These two creatures breathe through each others' phantom lungs. Each aspired to something more. Each reached for a new form. Each writes his own bio but against what is supposed to be true. 

My terribleness replaced in parts. My head. My legs. All the things I can hold against myself are removed. Free from reproach.

 

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Notes Toward Identifying a Father

People call them elephants. People often
dream about them when the dreamers
want clarity. They live out of doors. They
live in big places like Africa and India.
They do not live in big places like Canada
or Antarctica. They live in big places
because they are big. People cannot
hold them. They are big like elephants.
Other animals’ sizes are compared to elephants.
They are too big to lift, but most people
would like to carry an elephant
for protection or help. They are
very strong and very helpful. They can
lift many large things. They have long
noses called “trunks” in the middles of their
round faces. They use their trunks
to lift and touch the things they want to
lift or touch. They have large soft ears and
rounded bodies. People think their heads
are large for their bodies. They have four
legs of equal length the size and shape of human
torsos. Their feet seem not to be separated from
their legs. Elephants are grey. If they are not
grey, they are not elephants. If a similar animal
is white, it is called a “white elephant” and is
a god. If a similar animal is pink, it is called
a “pink elephant” and is a figure of speech.
Many elephants have two long teeth curving up
out of their mouths. Not all elephants have these
teeth people call “tusks”. An elephant is an
elephant with or without tusks. At the opposite
ends of their bodies, they have short, thin tails.
The elephants piano wildly. Ivory is a common substance.
When divorced, they subsist on boxed dinners. Sofas are
debilitating, really. His front window is blurry.
A little stained glass all at the top.
Watch. He has stopped moving.
The light through the dining-nook
Window tracks across his face.
He will deteriorate wildly, soften and
Elephant off politely.
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The Fire

The fire ashes him. The wafer-
esque moonlight pools upon
the underscape of his eyes of
night. His is not a story, but
the shuffle of aspen one morning;
the spill of cinders glowing some many
years in the campground of dark
remembrance. Burning by fire is
the radical injection of air, to an equal
degree, to all parts, a mob of molecules
and air, a transformation through
divvying-up. He is his reinstating.
He is his again giving a cadaver
to the concept it orphaned. He is
his watching the flights of smokes.
He is his walking storeward for coffee
and churros in his grey coastal morning.
He is his burning. The fire is its
ashing him. He is his piling like together
in a list. He is his listing.

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Air in the Shape of a Man

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The Belief in Baleful Stars

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The Salience of Sunset

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~

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