Voracious Planet
01.23.01
11.23.03
The man has a knack for reducing even the cosmos to unutterably boring. His voice makes me feel like I can’t quite breathe.
Rabbit ears drop from my hair and furl down over my shoulder—furry against my shirtless back.
“Mixing the world up in a mixing bowl” I would punch stars out of thin sheets of sugar-cookie dough and devour them, tip by tip. I would lay thin slices of lemon, grapefruit, tangerines crystallized in sugar in bright clumps around the ice-berg oceans. Voracious planet. Magma simmering like tomato soup. Continents shaped from crunchy sheets of zweiback toast. The sun is a ball of fat—the moon is marzipan. All the rain is weak iced tea with tingy sprigs of mint. ‘The many contradictions of change.”
11.23.03
The man has a knack for reducing even the cosmos to unutterably boring. His voice makes me feel like I can’t quite breathe.
Rabbit ears drop from my hair and furl down over my shoulder—furry against my shirtless back.
“Mixing the world up in a mixing bowl” I would punch stars out of thin sheets of sugar-cookie dough and devour them, tip by tip. I would lay thin slices of lemon, grapefruit, tangerines crystallized in sugar in bright clumps around the ice-berg oceans. Voracious planet. Magma simmering like tomato soup. Continents shaped from crunchy sheets of zweiback toast. The sun is a ball of fat—the moon is marzipan. All the rain is weak iced tea with tingy sprigs of mint. ‘The many contradictions of change.”
posted by Octavia at 4:58 AM
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