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Silverdale, Washington by The Roving Hayseed
Roads were made for journeys not destinations. -Confucius
And you wonder why I swerve.
Below
When do sewers become life forms? The sentience of the underground Isn’t what it used to be. Their Intelligence has been fostered by the Classrooms of musicians, attendants, Employees sprinting, hair that falls out, Post party travelers headed home, The homeless who are buried, the Ones who have or don’t have cars, Quieter than the heart’s populations The stadium of the sun is no Place to learn, that colosseum faces Disease with books and cyclical weather, When the trains and the concrete, The steel life is introverted and thinking. They bounce off all the walls and back, The best version of knowledge is when Anecdotes and empiricism stay out of the Way. Electrocuted theories are better Passengers. The stairs won’t agree, But they are filibustered by gum. News isn’t needed down below.
Road-Trip
by valentine.guts