Saturday, February 23, 2013

Meeting Bruce Springsteen in Atlantic City

it is a series of events unfolding growing and shrinking. in the invisible times we sleep. we make linear webbing a sort of netting to hold it safe and away. all done with our minds. collectively we agree on the conclusions the outcomes common to us. in whatever size conclave we can gather and hold near. it's a show while we survive another night. we put it off on each other then we take it on and then put it off again. we share the burden of survival. we put our hands over the silver flames and cast starving glances. to see maybe. lost in a moment of honest daring. tired of coming out on the losing end. maybe this time they'll stay longer. maybe they won't smother. under the invisible weight of need together we gather. let's meet again tonight. in the air over Woodstock, NY on August 18th, 1969. catch some of that smoke hug some of that fire with our lungs. down below us a dead man plays. everyone present caught up in the show. but the past is just a place we visit. we've got nowhere else to go if we start counting the losses. we could lose everything all at once. all the things none of us can imagine anymore or remember. less than memory once ruled over us. rules that simply dissipate like balsa wafers over fire. just one night in a long spinning cycle. tiny human animals. one after another during each other over and under. against the passive dismissal of night.

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