Tuesday, April 10, 2012

I subconsciously burned the only copies of your manuscripts. I had no idea; I swear to you I am not aware. There’s “no ghost” in “the” “machine”. I don’t know what I say, much less what I mean. My futurist mind Xeroxed your cliche 500 times; made it descend a staircase. Is that brilliant? If I take a photograph of you thru this filter the twinkle in your eye becomes a supernova. I’ll snapshot your eye into a heat death. You’re my muse, so I love you. Do you love me? Did you invent me?

- Elisa Gabbert, After I Subconsciously Plagiarized You

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