My Diary: Standing In The Sea With A Yacht For A Head

I got up before the drip could fall from the marble statue’s nose‭ (‬actually it was a plaster cast with imprints of ivy stems and the marks made when a jenny wren became a golden eagle in the imagination of a young child‭) ‬and descended the stairs like a nude in a painting‭ ‬-‭ ‬I ascended them again some time later as a painting in a nude with a typewriter smile and a miniature stream plough making lines like organ pipes across my bare chest.‭ ‬I spoke to the bronze age warrior buried in my fore arm‭ (‬it is said in a fetal position to keep himself warm‭) ‬and then rode to town as part of the posse looking for the outlaw Belle Starr‭ ‬-‭ ‬when we finally met we became close friends and I carried her Deadwood shopping home while she balanced a pitcher of used bathing water on her head.


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