A drop exudes
A drop exudes, stretches down, seeks the bottom where it might join with the great stew, swirl around, blend and mix, flush down the drain, flush, flash in the pan through the pipes that bring the message to the machine the machine that shakes and quivers, the machine that eats its way around and through writhes at the sight, the machine takes the slurry and slurps it into a concatenation of gears and wheels and mills and coils winding down down to the bottom then back up but new and fresh, all changed transformed eaten bitten down to bone but there’s a little gut in there too and it digests squeezes and slips into the wounded tea space an open wound, but you wouldn’t know it from the inside where it vacuums and sucks till the slush boils up, bubbles into and percolates through the soft pipes some unknown force ripping it up to the top and it seems like, seems to be essence the purity form back at the top now where it belongs but the catch opens and the lock breaks and a drop exudes, stretches down…..
No one could be called Dr. J, but Dr. J exists nonetheless. You’ll catch him sometimes on all fours watching for the owls to come out at night. He draws and writes and sometimes shares his work with others at the site: http://www.drjthejingg.com/ .Sometimes he does anthropology too.