Docile as a ripe peach before it falls from the tree. Ripeness comes before the fall. Next the ants or the hand of a small child. Then the teeth. The end of peachness as we know it.

Blood is a step along the way in the never-ending transformation of things. Lots of things have to give up their Thingness to make blood.

The apple of your eye. How many apples does it take to make an eyeful? To keep the doctor away? To make a jug of hard cider? How many jugs of hard cider do you have to drink to get drunk enough to spill blood? To rape an angel? To slap a peach? To wage war on Thingness?

Why can’t Thingness hold its ground? Where are the police when you need them? Why do they wear so much body armor? How much of the Thingness of other things does it take to shoot a man down in cold blood? How many apples and peaches, how many jugs of hard cider?

You won’t find the meaning of what I’m telling you on Google. Try flying with a murder of crows under a full moon instead. Or eat a whole bowl of peaches. Assimilate the Thingness of a leper. Run with the hunted, prowl the night streets. Now you’re on to it. Now you’re dangerous to the way of things. Now you’re someone they’ll come for once the sun sets.

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