Thousand: Nine Hundred Ninety-One

with that, that’s unnatural. Surely an abomination. Like shellfish, like little piggies. Like aeroplanes and choo-choo trains and mechanical lambs eating plastic ivy. God isn’t dead. God was never alive so death had no opportunity to be involved. God is one of the many manifestations of non-life. Like a star, like a cold little comet whose gravity is just enough to keep its icy heart from breaking up. If I have a meaning I’m ignorant of it. I suppose I could be like a dream where the dream isn’t the answer but provides the opportunity to retell a tale of