You got to be a spirit; you can't be no ghost
Monday, February 17, 2014
Sunday, February 16, 2014
A Flexible Concept
That words have edges is an insight most vivid
I felt newly precise to have just grazed it like the briefly valid distance between myself and what I create is to crave nothing
I felt like all of life was a myth and we all began by dying into a sanctuary where trite fables of individuality enter into the social network like no body's ghost heart, transplant, save our seas, save our frantic asses, brave for the candlelit future with your fists in that wax like a newfangled curator, re-staging the artifacts became typical all Fred Wilson whatever but still beautiful and necessary like salt carried on a breeze of fallen ecstasy toward the balk of new ignition, rev, revelator, reverend, all my prayers pretend how the story makes you want to fall asleep in your own unbelievably aloof arms, nudging the pedal of his gun like it was long ago that these machines could come undone and now that we are these machines and incorruptible and always whole and now what kind of excuses do we make for our insistent regulatory romanceless more or less camp of western eyes and anti-celebration and our saviors are suddenly
I was always in love, that's my excuse, and every man who could bring me to life, who could animate me like that, could kill me too. That's a risk I can't refuse
He was the suicidal one and I was the one in love with whatever seduced him into new beginnings We try to call it by any other name
I felt newly precise to have just grazed it like the briefly valid distance between myself and what I create is to crave nothing
I felt like all of life was a myth and we all began by dying into a sanctuary where trite fables of individuality enter into the social network like no body's ghost heart, transplant, save our seas, save our frantic asses, brave for the candlelit future with your fists in that wax like a newfangled curator, re-staging the artifacts became typical all Fred Wilson whatever but still beautiful and necessary like salt carried on a breeze of fallen ecstasy toward the balk of new ignition, rev, revelator, reverend, all my prayers pretend how the story makes you want to fall asleep in your own unbelievably aloof arms, nudging the pedal of his gun like it was long ago that these machines could come undone and now that we are these machines and incorruptible and always whole and now what kind of excuses do we make for our insistent regulatory romanceless more or less camp of western eyes and anti-celebration and our saviors are suddenly
I was always in love, that's my excuse, and every man who could bring me to life, who could animate me like that, could kill me too. That's a risk I can't refuse
He was the suicidal one and I was the one in love with whatever seduced him into new beginnings We try to call it by any other name
Saturday, February 15, 2014
Friday, February 14, 2014
Au chat qui peche
Lately I've been so pessimistic
Let it settle as drift to the shoulder of softer road and let mend a nerve as it enters—
There were no roses yesterday,
surely they'll appear today/ as soldiers lined up one by crime on my father's empty grave
I'm almost
certain (looked for you yesterday/here you come today)
and I'll love them each and all so steadily like a stubborn piano on the ledge of a commons or total grief in a field of purple indulgent sorrow/ some total elsewhere or else no where shit /
Lately I've been elsewhere or else nowhere, shit, it's been so terrible and mellow like I should care about the way one desire covers for another but it's very inconvenient / to love another woman's husband, better than she ever could and not at all. Lately all the messes feel clean and healing, but before we know to how honor their sweet deranged messages. I tried to resist. I nearly resisted. Lately I've been so real and high on eternity I almost forgot how everybody died but the dealer's mother, how I'm her and what a weird lament and element to remember /he left me/all these records/and a reckless craving for sun like in Battle of Algiers the inevitable people can abandon their own hearts and still survive in them like visitors
Thursday, February 13, 2014
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