cygnoir.net

cygnoir.net

a hole

Don’t take my word for it, she said, but I did. I took her word for it and I’ll take yours, too.

I am a thief of articles, of discovery, of vertical blinds and blindfolds and blond files.

If you can’t beat them, join them, she said, so I glued them together.

Now you can’t tell where they end and they begin. So they say; so I win.

There are no open doors, merely wall-shaped holes. And you, my dear, are a hole.

But that’s a whole other story.

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I acknowledge that I live and work on stolen Cowlitz, Clackamas, Atfalati, and Kalapuya land.
I give respect and reverence to those who came before me.

∞