Wednesday, September 27, 2006



Partisans, reality makers, History with a capital "Is"

In the eyes of song the present goes on


Struggling Models

An Equally Familiar

Disinhibitor Thing



What you lose what you gain what contacts you abstract what hems you in
What you gain what contacts abstract you what hems you lose
What contacts you hem in you lose what you gain
What abstracts you what hems





My Piece

Kills sonorously relationally
Kills realistically nominally
Kills dialectically fundamentally
Transitively empirical
Just for the fun of it



The wager knows the bow of suitors

When become must suffer six strings


An innovation

An innocent autotelic protozone


Truth Effects

All the things overheard that will never be said
Ear whispering to ear of the beheaded
Dead presidents a mere curfuffle in the grand schematic
We all go down in trains we build against the sky
There is no sky here just say



The sun goes down
In your eyes the night
Rises in the throat



My native piece
Blind to our

Floats by
A kind of lapse
Which one

Always moving
Segues home


Night Saving

There is your
Body like my eyes
Alive because they doubt

There is your distant crying
There is an oblivion
To speak of when we begin

Lobbed into the dark
Like a stone that never
Makes a sound


This Magic Moment

Two bodies lean
one against the other

one's plunder
the other's utterly

absconded from the enjoyment
of its earthly bounty.

One's surety the other's

one's guarded
the other's a martyr

of global multiplicity
fair game for the shady.

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