Cunningly hook a way in: pull to land upon a shore of conscious reasons why the world turns on its axis, soul released in Tallaght two days after you walked in. From street to hospital death bed only a week ago.
Today is your funeral and we share the weight of uncle from alter to hearse. A man of small stature - your mass easily borne by us uncle, brother, father and son.
"Does Mr Mooney know Barney?"
..the number of lipstick in bags thrusting forward is up on our mother's time when bags were smaller with less lippy inside to item, spring form pictures, fix the eye I suppose is viewed as an absence or image left - rusting by exit - gone.
"Dear do we know?"
..He lived before Nemo swam. and vanquished him. Exiled in the attic. Extinct his trill of love's now silent on tape in a box of memory fading up creaky stiff steps, unused.
Imagination assemble the hand of reality. Invisible craft this crumbling eye seers the flawed form of an imprecise mind resting on a tablecloth. Uncle John swept
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