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Poetic Thinking 2016 | January 28, 2020

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Black on Grey

Black on Grey
Vivian Lam

 

 

 

 

On his deathbed, he shook hands with the ether:

If lunar landscapes recall death, does that mean there is LifeTM Out There?

Or are we just transcendentally homeless?

Luminous, or suffocating?

Are we at the seat of the Gods?

Or is the celestial mist concealing a black chasm?

Where is our homecoming?

We must stare “as though one’s eyelids had been cut off”

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