Sunday, September 23, 2018

bell/sinthome.

alliterating bruce-lee credit se-
quence you blew the lead and have
overdrawn your account.. i'm sor-
ry for lying down in traffic, but
there's no place like home: faded

colourless wind turned up to pain
and print markings on your skin--
i lay down and i fell asleep in a
nest like making money for dream-
ing, and all this happened at the

official site of orbital connect-
ion, infrared life squeezing away
into the undiscovered country and
the underdeveloped real wild west
yet the tongue is tense, smiling;

claudia is the angel of returning
and running water and it's got to
have been a decade since i ran my
hands under the faucet and didn't
catch cold: flat, complex topolo-

gies are escaped from the centre,
silly, dizzying leaps that scream
like digital recordings southward
all day and all of the night.. an
instant ago, the future i planned

for today became tomorrow and i'm
not sure if i can keep up meaning
the rituals and ursprach cut into
the dance and the top is valuable
but the bottom's got wavelengths.

Saturday, September 1, 2018

torsion/propel.

amnesia the room-temperature sky,
silent darkness sort of thing you
used as a bookmark: revolutionary
you are so facile, pacifist! sum-
mer the metal fall like the anci-

ent of alexandrine noise, but how
my lyrics have grown insipid with
the dust and seashells always re-
ceding away from me, always viol-
ent the matrix of penance & yin--

i began to wonder if i was etern-
ity thinking itself, deconstruct-
ionistically arrived at the point
of total surrender and having de-
voted you to it, let it brace me;

opposing sides: met like daybreak
pushing itself into the recessive
genes and manifesting daily, hold
pattern text inadequate scholar &
a round record, o the slip of the

tongue that i'd swallow if i were
unafraid, you know it's as though
the heat speaks with a trans-atl-
antic drawl, leading by blackmail
and stipples the paint, while in-

wardly, inwardly-- locke with the
navigated psychologies, droller &
ursprach rolling us up and stored
us in a story: light can't neces-
sarily get through but it's okay.