image Dec 16, 2008

image-maker / image-ridden


What is a mind but a blender?
(alright , a sufficiently organized series of blenders
 & the taste of copper + sea salt
     + the struggle against the margin's gravity
(in a blender, the centripetal force is the struggle)
[THROW SAND IN THE BLENDER]


There's nothing to see here.
    Do you feel that draft?
Do you smell that?
       [           |    ]
I think someone struck a match in here.
          recently i have begun to remember--
What are you afraid of ?  [YOU'RE SO VAGUE]
          --everything was less real then.
Slowly, the dream dissipated.  [YOU'RE TALKING IN CIRCLES]
          now, all is see is the δirt and ruin
not-music expressed in placement, volume, and noise
          the images of castles and gods fade.
Mud is what you get when you mix crayons.
       [I do love the smell of bleach]
When you mix light you get white.
          instead , multitudes of machines--
gods of mystery, pattern, and foolishness
          --it is amazing that they even function.
some more real
                   a foundation in reality

Sort of an eclectic mess of dead links
and subjective spelling. Not so much a poem.
Who mistook these baths for showers?
Could you stay a while longer,
and really empty your head?


i enjoy the shallow + random
     (please, repeat after me)
Do Not Tell Me Where To Go, because
     then i just won't want to any more.  [YOU'RE TALKING IN CIRCLES]
instead , just show me some pretty pictures
   of France, perhaps, or Egypt
Tibet or Australia or the moon  (is the moon a country yet?)
just because we are all beautiful and unique snowflakes 
just because the same thing over again builds momentum
just bec the w a l l will not complete itself
(jusbec a pile a bricks Will Not Rise Up to form a wall)
jb i say so. bc i can. B ME.


there is no 'i' in 'my vocabulary' but soon
there will be no 'i' in my vocabulary—
Why do i deserve the upper case?
grasping! i should like to know


Here he points, almost laughing, at the ant.
"The tiny ones care not for our troubles!
 They only know their own, and even these,
 how poorly! Defend them if you will!" 起床!


We arrive with only the distractions of our own absurdities,
the charges of the theft of our past lives, the (of)
undying support of our ancestors, (& of our characters) &
 (when i try to speak frankly, the words get in the way
   in the way that dolphins are helpful (the dolphins are gone, we
(she wrote it down, but then the earth was removed
how can you readthis ?
  with the spaces all in the wrong places)
     sometimes reading from the end
a nother per spective <br> some times middles



These other voices are not mine.
(& the carpentry practically writes itself)
Seven eggs to the dozen,
you know what I would give to have that kind of power.
(what I mean to say is—we all have our limitations

You Can't Write Down Life
  (life (thing) Rep: 14 ( +17433718585 / -17433718571 ) )
Yea, I wrote a book about that. In my sleep.
Last night, a screaming came across my bed + I was already awake
to find my faileδ words pleading for a cup of water
(so parched, they, that my only recourse   to
 find for them solace in flourescent nights ,
away from home + gone to
    to    

&#91;AN IMAGE OF WHAT?]


This is not over yet. [& MEANS JOINING TOGETHER]
     (period's nicer outside the link)
    There's nothing to see here.
just kidding. the end.
the end.


Septimus, what is a new pattern?
Something--unrevealed?
something imageless?

       
   \          
          



Linked from: the-universe-was-cold-and-dead-and-all-the-best-aspects-of-humanity-and-its-appreciation-of-the-world-were-stored-in-electronic-boxes