C Section Sins Of The Fallen Fruit Eaters

Start again,

One breath,
Sudden dead;

New skin,
Fresh flesh;

Old mind,
Dear hearts;

Meditations.

To think,
And therefore

Am.

Renes was…

Am I?

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About Epoch Awareness. Writer, J.D. Hughes

I write. Do you read? I write. I write words: Carefully and consistently, and chaotically, from the deep pulsar unison of the still mind (or the violent undoing of the still mind); Sometimes I resemble Robert Zimmerman (my hair uncut, my mind uncut, all unregulated thoughts, wind haphazard along a pale american brow too). Sometimes, Sometimes words are fragments of paragraphs and you find them eschew in and from time, and with care, in the long ribbon fabric or one single unsealed cosmic spiral, and then they burn wild like black-holes ( birthing voids built the milky way); Still there are words so heavy and pure that they anchor fast the mind to the mere memory of their syllables in the quiet echoes, in and around, the deep violet sea of the questioning readers inner-mind. I write sentences: In strands, like silk, or links in chains, or diamond arranged compressed carbon coal electrons, or the frequency of more intimately woven atoms; In intricate quilts of reason, and warmly glowing sheets of cotton fiction that cover you at 4 am on a Sunday (with the sun bright and a bastard, soon to be hitting your face from the slats in the window shades); I write paragraphs, and as such I consider it a duty of the considerate and conflicted human to consider their conflicts human, and consider: In airports, in churches, in penthouses in Hollywood (who overlook the homeless mountains and the slanting fogs of debilitated industries, and the vacuum seduction, and lifeless Angel City in the Wests bleached blonde sand, and lids of imagery cover sad vacant eyes), in station wagons, in deep wood temples in Maine, near the Androscoginn River, where the Native Americans caught silver fish and eternity lived off communal tides to the distant ocean, which is now more black than the sky from our waste, now wrought with the studied three-headed-demon-fish, (but still a holy place Maine, it glows); In any meaningful medium, known or noun, imaginable is mans only true duty. It is mans only Deity (For what was with God, what was God? The Word was, In The Beginning). To chase the promise that reality and truth are not yet only relative devices, and leaving these scriptures: On brains, and on paper, and on papyrus, and old plaster, and on the backs of old Polaroids (once someone did at least), the thin skin on wet hands who ru
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2 Responses to C Section Sins Of The Fallen Fruit Eaters

  1. Evelyn says:

    I feel like old Rene was the only part ofGeometry I liked.
    or was it trig?
    old lord, Im old…

    • Haha Geometry, Philosophy, Renes was everywhere! His Meditations unleashed the Think and Therefore Am concept, as he reevaluated his beliefs from the ground up again as an adult, and its okay, those of us who are aware are all “old”, some of us are just still in younger skins, but in truth, we are all equal conscious reign of this existence… those of us who realize it, are those who can truly know beyond time, when you consider a thing, are you not escaping the confines of the present? Don’t we create the future!!?? We are infinity wrapped in reflections of true being, and we think these bodies truly define our potentials!!!! We are far beyond these infant shells…

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