sAyingsometHing

Art, poetry, digital art, photography, criticism and essays.

19 Aug 2006

friday

sitting thinking is a good way to start a poem myopic dew a good opener drama like cunt. saying anything is a priceless trope of freedom dom free red morf form red. Time is bugging me i have an aleatoric approach to time my belief in socio-economics seems pursued and bewildering as in reticent, intelligent or otherwise ferile. saying nothing seems the best option a blank page as a start of contemplation
tunnel vision volant hearsay violent violet. telling language, it's duplicity in objects its negative in mind Pursuance the art of pursuing perusal and disengagement. My eyes hurt every time i'm on the computer i have a persistent/intermittent fear of falling her ears
flower. Dizziness is caused by a lack of options floored by too much information and no actuality practicality flawed by its doing
the path that leads from my house reveals political concerns it is coloured in flowers cats run like children and children look like flowers. planes are telling my first conviction was to fly one as a child, football was another drug playing football confirmed that i would be an artist sooner than later you get to the train station busty and take the t out. Satnaam, bless!
Always welcomes me on my duration to work. he is south american and says he's gay the way he oggles girls makes me feel i'm geeting out of the scene. Wild, throwing limbs in objects humanity bodily, of course it needn't take Derrida to take us there an odd scene a police scene Pliocene our wildness calls back to us particularly women who bleed
show us the physicality of humanity the anger fear love is sense not senses not reason. to take a moment between one assignment then another, i consider a position in india, I pull heavily on a cigarette and feel the tension and the heart rate, the paradoxical relaxation, the fuming lungs and the mucus in cough cough cough
beyond the two pronged design of my local station, the trains clogged up wi' shite and falling into each other near misses, leave the tracks to scud on air, like sexual diseases wholly unlikely and compromising relationships not as much as technology. Black women sometimes approach me and smile or start chatting "just to say hello" "hello love"
trains merge in stations blue and dusky an apparel a camera to record a sound like letters to traces of feelings familiar but their stimulus. condoms strewn beneath high heels I sit my pursuance my journey to write this poem to feel Dion's shoe against my shin

0 Comments:

Post a Comment

Subscribe to Post Comments [Atom]

<< Home