Thursday, February 24, 2011

Bill Patrick

My mind is like a dismantled camera;
Each frame, each recording touched by Alejandro's soul;
With thoughts treading water while attempting recognition:
But what is there to recognize;
A voice could tell a lie while it tells the truth,
And my memories echo with these voices,
tossing me into a blender:
Everything seems together, but out of place;

Some out of authenticity.

(c) 2011

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