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Called Upon

fig.209) figure of eight at Mornings side


Bribed curiously, there's a lotus shaped loaf about the size of a cleric's rough sack. 

Having, or being suborned, am I, afraid or am I. 

But I am and my loaf is here beside me. 

Oh no no no... I've seen no empty tables where losers queue. There are no more groceries, my every comfort is lost and food is a cost. 

But this door works at night and there's one way left for it to go. 
In the hallway, on the Ohio bed trip with Virginia and Boston Mary too... 

"GoodLook'n, 12x12, Cakewalk, Midnight Rants, FGA, Spaces.org, Dialogue, New Art Examiner, Chicago Artist Coalition there are so many, this isn't the end."

"That's why!"

"You know the ghosts don't see mirrors and it doesn't matter if they're perpendicular to the lines, they're mirrors and they're already invisible." These are things to think twice about. Things like roses, on the outside of the wall. The ghosts of apples past; these will always be great places to start. But she looks around and no one seems to care. 
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