Workshop your job out of existence and trickle down, gain momentum, lose hope. Despair takes on the smell of burnt coffee, the leonine moment when antelopes no longer present a challenge. Which brings me to zoos — is there a happier prison you can think of outside of your hair, entangled in knots worked by design or inertia? There are places of transit, places of stumbling, places of regression to the mean razor’s edge, places of realization, of creeping vines, of kingdom, of dominion, of flat panels and rays of joy shining through slats, of inability, of impossible accumulations of butter, of gilded bars manipulated by forerunners, of caffeinated house pets, of headless ambition, of aimless comfort, of knowing this.
Neal Kitterlin lives with his wife and child in Matteson, Illinois. His work has appeared or is forthcoming in [PANK], HOUSEFIRE, NAP, The Doctor T.J. Eckleburg Review, and other publications. His e-chap, 'Decisions', is currently available from Love Symbol Press. Find him on twitter @NealKitterlin or at infinitegestures.tumblr.com.
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