Adam Zahller THURSDAY, 2:17 AM Some days like music without melodies. Some nights slept by only one hemisphere. Some mornings broken like the very first. There will be more pancakes. They will keep making them in every kind of home. Some of us might taste them. And men will carry sticks: small ones to write with; big ones, with knots; pointed ones; dull ones. Sticks. Some days, like pieces of music where the score has been cut to bits, the melody obliterated, and the texture as homogenous as plexiglass, there will be stacks of buckwheat and blueberry hot-cakes and men will carry tall, knotted sticks. Some Some Some Some Some
men men men men men
have have have have have
had lives without melodies and not known. known days without melodies and cried. eaten pancakes. carried sticks. eaten pancakes and carried sticks.
Some mornings have broken like the very first. Some men have known this and cried. Only half of the body sleeps, some nights, because only half of the brain does so. It is the opposite bodily half than brain half. Some mornings broken like the very first.
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