proust
dwell inside that deep deep reservoir where butterflies escape, wine overflows, jazz pours through souls. dwell back inside your mother's womb. What do you see now that you know the label of everything. darkness, blood, your navel things wose names are now familiar, they surround you. Dwell in the deep well of your creativity. it is infinite.
sweat drips like an i.v. from my bare dome. it rolls saltwater tears through my eyes. sweat the sweet reminder we are working, no matter if we're not employed, we're working. sweat is the reason we runners run---sweat and oxygen, a double high.