Category Archives: rivers over the maps veins beaches waves brakes against the embankment of memory.

…A HAZE THAT CHEWED…

[In Response to She Existed Only To Explode… and But Why Explode when you can fly.]

A pageview from the stars. It came with an agitation of extremities and what some might feed on when it gets darker earlier and it’s not scheduled to be a moon that night. Fingers wrap around strands of fullbodied jewelry that glow when the lights go out. Your stomach growls and you can’t eat much longer. Once upon a time they encouraged you with complex molecules to clean your plate. You just don’t know anymore. It’s the part of the week where we show off for each other. One day Pollock made a painting where he colored in some of the spaces made by the intersecting drip lines and it was kind of out of character but actually in him all along. That day I put my head on the grid, got up in the morning, pulled on my boots and marched. I remember two years ago dancing the monster mash with a boy I liked. I didn’t say it any different. It just accumulated like that, like little pieces of brown leaf in the layer above the asphalt and below the water with the piece of lichen floating in it like toilet paper. A rock that ought to be picked up and agreed with.


…TO DEATH, TO SLEEP….

[In Response to She Existed Only To Explode…]

But Why Explode when you can fly. Fly Fly Fly. ALl the time, so high, like a dragon fly, through cries, of listenings to the album 5. She wanted to metamorphosize into a floating mobile high in the sky. A mobile that could stretch over all of Texas, like the ultimate ode to Alexander Calder. Shifts, shapes, spinning in the wind, mind the hurricanes and tornados, Dorthy don’t know shit. She just tapped around in those silly red shoes but little did she know that all that she ever was seemed to be a tripped manifistation of a silly man in lion suit who took a tad bit too much acid that fine day. Colors blur, monkey fly, and we come to know the sleep as we die, stretched among a million bright colors, prism prism prism.

So spook yourself out, don’t try to scream, just live and breath, for its Halloween!


…EMERGENT ART OF CHIP-TUNE…

[a response to Dis [integrate neighbor] Cover…Duck! BOOM!]

Noon drapes.

Draping a pant on a rail. Peeled a pant off a rail and flecks of paint from the rail sticking to the pant. And peels of paint sticking on the hand from the pant from the rail. And drapes around the eyes. Paint on the eyes as the drapes, and in the eyes the reflection of pant.


…WELL-UNDERSTOOD RISKS OF SENTIMENTAL NOSTALGIA…

[Response to To be as a free city]


…HOPE EVERYTHING IS WELL…

[Response to:Vertical integration along the horizontal plane…]

Calming Music


…THE DEGREE OF MY VISCOSITY…

[Response to “at one time…“]

 

 

[read the response Lumens liminalia…]


…SOME TAKE DOWN NUMBERS FOR CAPOEIRA COMPANIES…

[response to “My time spent revolving”]

Trimming Hairs
A Meditation on Next To

(A revolve is a sound.  Sound is a revolve.  A finger jammed in a door
is a sound.  Sound is a finger once jammed in a door a battleship
blue.  A sound is a finger is hot and jammed.  A finger hot and jammed
is a neighbor.)

He has a slippery sense of neighborhood.  On the one hand, bodies
plunking in the same place for a while like people at a public locker
room mingling because they need somewhere to store their intimates.
God, and getting naked in front of each other.  He lives alongside
some folks with the understanding that while there is this veneer of
privacy–at times it is alone, all too alone, closed off and nobody
touches each other as in the communal shower–there’s also an
exposure, and the only way to get over it is to walk a radical nude.

He has a slippery sense of is.  He thought all of this while he
practiced stealth.  That’s the way he said it to himself, that
practicing stealth was watching a guy trimming hairs and knowing it
was a trimming in the sense that your hairs are my little sprouts.
Community.  That’s a neighbor for you, he thought.  We’re all part of
the same smile if neighbors are germs and houses are teeth.  He felt
uplifted.  The happiest thing for a person to have is yet another
person to the side.  Or a finger once jammed in a door, he supposed, a
blue ship, which is something.  A tooth or a fleshy jock, life
provides you a bitch seat we call neighborhood.

[read the response: “In This City…”]