My Diary: A Mythology Of The Mundane

I pulled myself out of my nettle patch bed with a dock shoot behind my ear.‭ ‬June was still in an arable field readying herself for a walk to a progressively barren place‭ (‬as usual in a well practised semi-transcendental state‭)‬.‭ ‬I turned my thoughts inside out as if a starfish digesting its food and then went out in the same highly convoluted state.‭ ‬On my return,‭ ‬with the dog as a free gift in a mens magazine,‭ ‬I quickly waxed the garden legs,‭ ‬pulled silk stockings up my arms and painted with the tips of my high heels.‭ ‬From writhing threads I made a fabric and then the clothing‭ (‬not a very good fit as usual‭) ‬and from a rushing rabble of words I made a painting‭ ‬-‭ ‬a terrestrial octopus in the corner of my studio was busy getting nits out of a gorgon’s hair.

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