THE OTTER PEOPLE Crt monitor, text, 00:03:06



The Otter People


A view over the river,

could stand opposite a pillar,

faced,

crushed against it, wet,

and nil by mouth.

One sublime with the other

divided by the only real,

One day the water will swallow it up.

The Saint Paul Cathedral will die.

The peak of his dome

points a path for the dolphins,

A slope back to the origin of the

man.

The water is the domain of the Otter people.

One must always take away the thing and

Dipping into the River next to us.

Sounds create pressure in the room.

A small difference in the radiator

the balance changes to the right or left.

The fan sounds like a storm from home.

Perhaps the reason he shakes an a

remembrance of those young flights.

That image is like gravity for me.

The promise of life is not there yet.

And yet, if it got a name,

the fan in the bathroom would just be there

to blow.

Despite the strict continuum of stairs

into the water, Straight into baptism. into the water, right in baptism.

Refer the curiosity of it

to sleep

with a woman in bed with a girlfriend

and her friend and her friend with lacquered

nails,

toes like sugar

Caught in a constant fire of.

Being clean and cold.

Imagine,

There is a centre of decline

in the depth of the water.

Wrinkling like the most unknown

expression

from someone I've ever known.

It rings above it like candy,

and clearer whiter layer of glaze on the

porpoise

held above the expression of the

city.

Lips, there were also lips.

The river preached the displaced of the

humanity,

So when the tides rise forever,

There is blue glaze on top,

His upper edge, a sturdy hair bunch

with white capitals around.

Or could there be a nice light,

the weak lights behind half opened

doors,

with the colours of that Rainbow Valley

(drawn with) paint given by the English

queen.

That just stands there?

Or slightly on the water,

they were smoothed out, wiped away,

sprayed away to the mighty grip

from knowing that the pieces have an image

to be.

A cutting board to the known present

divide

It did not exist in the now.

Dive into the water, doing tough.

Further away, like that conversation, Further away, like that conversation

Yes. one not suitable for swimming.

Yes.

No. An excuse for not feeling yourself afloat

In a mass of humiliated water.

Breeds on his only life and refers to

himself to prove that.

It reaches back to the last moment

or its freed board or confetti expressions. from h

liberated sign with expressions of

confetti.

Tablets of occurrences that trickle away

in a trance of colliding tiles.

Absorb all events

poison

for the martyr who accosts you.

Deeper in the water there was one down

to pull

as a tooth floss over a lip.

It was like a sharp edge, an industrial one

cut.

But maybe this is right,

this is the moment when an object would

have to cut,

Yes, an edge like I once told someone that

should be.

A sweet green light as a candy

that perhaps did not want to melt.

Candies in wrappers, which do not melt.

An ideal measure for the river.

The new buildings,

the fake snowstorm inside a

Department store,

bewitching, overlooking everything,

The size is comparable to pure

imagination.

A park flies from the end of the world

or that I imagined it.

There was possibility in milk

if those sounds had not come up.

The oracle from very far away:

Does anyone want to build the silence that they need

to have?

A colonnade entrance built of glass

with genres out there that are in the ether

float around.

The abundance of sound injures it

thoughts

while hibernating in the closet, during the winter
sleep in the closet,

locked it from inside locked from the inside

like a circus display - try it

surprising.

How do you know how to use the Urge

to treat?

love failure,

The unruly tapping of the tongue.

About a bridge of possibilities

hoping that a sharp fold of the arm

Me, will save us a landscape.

The toddler treasures as naked walking

within the lines.

The call of cicadas, that slow auction on tone

to the end proportion without echo. to deafening

proportion without echo.

Actually erasing the echo.

No shouting. No answer - I find peace

that I saw

In a field in Canada with an out-performable

rage of a cicada

and the bubbling of phosphates on the St. Laurent.

Like a noise of cola.

A definition of success

driven by the Otter People.

The mystery of a deadlock through inheritance.

The experience country.

The Urge would be a sleepy return.

To be accomplished in a contemporary breath of

hyperactivity

or an existing collectiveness.

What would the Otter people say about touches - through your various roles

I remember

on each other's body then

I tried to get rid of the wasp

my lip had landed.

Sticky to stand full of horror,

Standing on the mat of foam in the sunny

garden.

After that I did not want to go inside.

This is a work on transparency in all

meanings of the word.

I remember a girl who had to rely on me

to fit,

how she got lipstick

And threatened to kiss me if I stayed with her

name calling.

and very good reason to bully girls.

And down in the ravine, he made one there

submarine with a trash can.

It was plastic, and it just did not want to

Underwater.

The water seemed so clean.

It was the bridge to Tarabithia that

Holes made in the idea.

The same place where

I had smuggled cigarettes in one

cassette case.

I dreamed about the heap

In the middle of the ravine.

It was the place in the middle,

The banished middle pocket.

It was also not connected to anything.

There it was, hard but consequent.

The bridge to Tarabithia.

There was once a king and a queen.

They were in the middle of a river,

They crossed with a hanging rope

- She fell.

She would have survived if there were none

little hope.

My brother is my sister.

My brother is Canada.

It is just a matter of nerves.

Not forgotten.

Waiting for a plane toilet.

This challenge,

She could be the Hagazuzah.

Sitting on the fence

Between reality and sleepiness.

Forget that everyone is really the same.

That because of a simple expression

of fear

everything is retained,

And everything is clear.

I connect with the Otter People, brother.

If only two things remained, then

that would be you and the river.

When we breathe, we will

continue to take these life-threads

the moment they stayed behind.

By elimination.

Standing on the bridge is like

merge into the origin,

Finding the focal point.

Be sure it was there.

The imagined is not enough.

This place would

You can thaw to water.

the best break.

Opposite that place.