A spotty record of a writer.
posted by Razovsky @ 12:33 pm
such a brilliant poet! May your coffin leak and may your body disintegrate into letters which the wind can blow into words. May squirrels find a word a day for three months, bury in the dirt around a tree where people have fucked for hundreds of years and then one day when some asshole in some kind of uniform--it doesn't have to general, you know. It could be an accountant or a dentist (people I know you loved to spend time with) will be walking by this same and he'll spill and fall and miracle of miracles-he'll land smack down on his face and break his nose.And by that simple happenstance, people and squirrels will know that Nicanor Parra is dead and still doing very well.
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