Placing Stones / Diamond Dogs Revisited

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of smaller stones

I follow stone melodies emerge Christina melodies stone melodien I mouth moth melodien mixed melodies melody Christina intermedia I mouth melodies minus melodies only Christina Christina minus melody and stone melodien bare ghost central coast orchestra tracings

I follow stone melodies and melodic roses: her roses razor outer rhizome / strata outre darkness (I ruminate on roses. I ruminate on Christina roses, the stone river of her circular ruins. Her rose remains a residue in the river of circular ruins. She throws her stone melodies and her roses through the body without organs into the melodic ruins, and I meander the melody in increasing spirals. Her rose reveals body without organs between ostinatos. Her rose ostinatos continue to place stone patterns into melodies modeled after abandoned apartment complexes.) I follow stone melodies and Christina’s corpse curates the melodic fragments into full bloom rhizome roses

I follow stone melodien Christina body without organs between ostinatos Christina body without organs ornaments ben adam baroque beyond the barline Melody emerges melodien over barlines ben adam and ben hinnom barline ostinato Christina tremolos rains between roses modal south gate leviathan

I prophesy stone into long line disneyland: I gospel stone long line disneyland into desert lattices I layer long line lattice shutter-shutter nonlinear Christina spectres Linear B Christina scribes nonlinear parking lot matrix and I look long line there's a balm in gilead I rose gospel gilead and galilee ben adam: gospel anvil roses ben adam ACME Wile E. Coyote

I place a large flat rock under glass Flat rock burrows underground glass I flint flat rock Christina underground glass god gaskets Flint flat rock fire catch underground coal seam sheets of sound Place flat flint rock underground glass mask long lattice mothlight

I lay in lattice configurations of the Zodiac. I lace lattice constellations of Zebra. Christina camouflages herself as Zebra - the divine entity Philip K. Dick witnessed disguised in pulp fiction and the Judean desert. Desert drives lattice Christina-Zebra camouflaged in starlight and solar anus, and I see Christina dark ghost and erotic ghost manuscript minuscules. Christina-Zebra split desert light along the rose long line, and I submerge in her underground and black roses.

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of smaller stones

I read the excerpt, says Asia. [Diamond Dogs Deliver the Dead With Jazz, posted on 7/13/2024]. It is kind of long. I think it had a strong start and I like the beginning. It could use some stronger imagery and I don’t think the bit about David Bowie really added much because it came across as valuing other people’s experiences and sidelining your own in a way. Like the repetition of dogs came from David Bowie and it was like your own experience was only made valid through David Bowie’s experience when that is something that a lot of people would understand the feeling of and I wish it was investigated more outside of his experience, she says. That’s interesting, I say. This is my favorite part of the excerpt, I say:

When I write diamond dogs, I try not to resort to my well-used word-images such as desert or my well-trodden verbs of dig and dream unless done in a manner that surprises me or reveals a deep connection that disturbs me Sometimes I get stuck and rely on cliches and past vocabulary but I hope I can combine my cliches into something like the way Charlie Parker fit and refit his motifs into new contexts I desire to invent anew but sometimes my long-exhausted languages won't stay dead (They won’t stay dead! NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD They keep coming back in a blood-thirsty lust for human flesh! Pits the dead against the living for a struggle for survival!)

I feel like you often push me to dive into deeper truer ben and your comments on my use of David Bowie as a possible clutch reflects that, I say. I think the historical tidbits have their place but not to fully express a feeling, says Asia. Even in that excerpt you just sent me you cited Charlie Bird Parker and not everyone reading knows who that is but most of them know the struggle of creativity. I got the idea that you might be trying to express the vague and uncertain feelings of wanting to make something new but not sure where it’s going to take you, says Asia. You can just look Charlie Parker up, I say. If you don’t know something, it’s an invitation to the reader to discover it for themselves. Christina used to say what she loved about my writing is all the little details and inside references that send you down the long research journey. But she loves T.S. Eliot and you do not. I respect both of you and your opinions on my writing. I like your criticism: it’s quite in depth and touches something important, I say. You can keep the bit about Charlie Parker but also add imagery to show us what it means to you, says Asia. You did say that this was before you started adding narrative so maybe you are already doing this. Yeah, I feel I am but I’m not sure in exactly the way you’re describing. The narrative is about digging deeper into the earth, not about letting the light shine on everything in the open. Does that metaphor make sense? Yeah, I think so, she says. I do think you’re right in that I often use other texts to express myself instead of me writing it directly, I say. I told you about that Jorge Luis Borges story Tlön, Uqbar, and Orbius Terius. Here’s the snippet I’m thinking of:

"It has been decided that all books are the work of a single author who is timeless and anonymous. Literary criticism often invents authors: It will take two dissimilar works—the Tao Te Ching and the 1001 Nights, for instance—attribute them to a single author, and then in all good conscience determine the psychology of that most interesting homme de lettres.

Their books are also different from our own. Their fiction has but a single plot, with every imaginable permutation. Their works of a philosophical nature invariably contain both the thesis and the antithesis, the rigorous pro and contra of every argument. A book that does not contain its counter-book is considered incomplete."

I don’t feel myself apart from David Bowie or Charlie Parker. I am David Bowie when I write David Bowie. I am Jesus Christ when I write Jesus Christ. I am Ben and Asia when I write Ben and Asia. I don’t feel I’m quoting separate from them. I’m prophesying from the one Book which is my Book which includes all people and books. Even when I was young and working on the Book, I used to say “I’m rewriting the Bible; I’m writing a new Bible.” Do you like that idea? Should I make that more explicit in the writing? I say. You can work with that idea but I better see some motherfucking metaphors or something, says Asia. Or you can write narratives from the point of view of these people. Describe David Bowie digging through the earth, looking for stray dogs, says Asia. Do you think my work lacks metaphor? I say. Not exactly, says Asia, but you could do more to weave the historical / non-fictional elements and connect them to your own experiences, she says.

Placed on a large flat stone and covered by a series of smaller stones

I displace the large diamond drilled into my eyes with the teeth of dogs: this isn't rock n’ roll this is genocide I displace the large diamond distilled in the villi of my small intestines Dogs chew on stomach cusp cut intestine / electronic attendants who carry the weapons that are screwed in their stumps I cut tree stump body the dog Taryn tails bone bar diamond a series of smaller stones

It amuses me that Asia critiques my use of quotation and other’s texts as incompletely and insufficiently expressing my own thoughts, and I quote Jorge Luis Borges to defend my ideas of the book as the one Book that perhaps YHVH peered into to create the universe (The Torah before the World). I think of another idea from mathematician Paul Erdős: a mathematical proof so beautiful it’s from a Book written by God I write the book and God and proof into existence and being and the Book simultaneously speaks me into existence and being bereshit

I listen to Diamond Dogs by David Bowie in order to better understand Asia’s critiques and I learn to embody the Bowie narrative as a Ben narrative The lyrics to Rebel Rebel fit Asia (and myself too): You’ve got your mother in a whirl she’s not sure if you’re a boy or a girl hey babe your hair’s alright hey babe, let’s go out tonight… I will write further about this with Asia’s permission but she feels more and more comfortable describing herself as gender non-conforming and I slowly am too

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of smaller stones

I chisel the large flat diamond from my skull and Christina splits my pretty cranium and fills it up with air I rip rock from my rhizome backbone and I catch my death in the fog

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of a smaller stones I arrange stones into scripture and sheet music I string stones shim scriptures and underground glass cracks stone music (I make sounds with stones and I draw sounds out of stones, using a number of sizes and kinds of stones)

I sculpt stones underwater glass and underground glass gods I sculpt vowel underground rock vision and visionary Christina / halogen hallucinations (We talked a lot about prophecy, I say. How it speaks truth, to the unconditional care of my relationships, healing ben, healing others, but I don’t think we never talked about visionary means to each of us and I would like to hear your views, I say. When I think visionary, I thin of someone who imagines new ways of being, says Asia. What new way of being does the book imagine? I say. I don't know, says Asia. Maybe a new way with or without god? A new way to be ben? she says.) I sculpt a series of smaller stones and stones submerge underground I sound stone underground and underwater glass and I sound vowel glass I voice vowel underground glass

I voice only vowels without vibrato I voice only vowels rose stone without vibrato Voice only vowels rose stone underground rhizome / I voice rhizome without vibrato I vocalize stone volatiles and rock vessels voce variable voces vine star Taryn Stones voice vulcan rabbit vernacular rock vena cava / I cave underground Christina’s mouth snaps limestone and slate I voice underground cave mass magmas (magma super metroid)

I voyage underground vile vision vision vulgar language long fuck syntax Christian stone fuck syntax boombox ben hinnom Christina bark rock boombox ben hinnom body syntax

I vocalize smaller stones and flat rock underground. I vowel any voice small stones organized by vine in Christina’s cave cunt. I vowel underground glass and I granite a glass Christina effigy in the chimney of cave walls. Cave walls vowel double Christina’s vaginal walls. I vowel underground as I voice underground glass boombox and selenite loudspeakers. I voice loud light reverberates vulgar and vernacular Christina's cunt. Christina’s cunt echoes ghosts and I vowel California coast cracked or hacked clavicle.

I vocalize smaller stones and the stones stream oxbow holy spirit. Christina inhabits stones lady of the lake and underground lake and its surfaces sling ice sinfonia. Its surfaces shift glass ice pike glacier and waters shimmer Christina’s cave mouth cock comedy. I vocalize a cave narrative and its mutant disco sounds cool jazz comedy.

I vocalize several Christina narratives but I keep fucking up the myth. I arrange smaller stones in the underground cave instead.

I stand stone standing waters but the wet stones creep underground Underground glass cover clears bunker ben hinnom

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of smaller stones / reconstructed rock diamond dogs

I Place On A Large Flat Stones Additional Stones

Places on a large flat rock / rock rib displayed

Place on a large flat stone stack flat stone Placed on large flat stone I stir flat stone Place stone plat flat plate

(I place stone plate flat plate plane. I picture stone and plane in desert. Plane and plate intersect stone and I place stone intersections. I intersect place with the place flat stone. I place stone plat flat patterns: I pattern sanddabs and sand dollars. I place stone stone intersect stone and stone repeats modular desert. I place stone plat flat and stone repeats flat desert desert stone body without organs. Stone blooms broad roses and rhizome rose body without organs.)

(I draw desert stone I draw time stone flat desert time desert I drone desert draw stone desert)

Placed on a large flat rock / rock red displayed Place on a large flat rock focus rose and rhizome Place and places rose rock and I ready rock sling stone Rock fragments disperse stone fragments rib or rose places

Placed on a large flat rock bloom rhizome rose paces skip traces stone Electronics trace tray play placed large stone trickster demonstration Demonstration place displace demiurge dose desert undressed (a young couple, she with a strap-on-dildo, he with a mildly expectant expectation)

I displace stone place human bodily fluids Displace desert rock place rose and rose the shape of punk to come I perform place: I parody place I perform place and I parody place partial roses cup entire rhizome

Today I thought about the following, I say. Asia is the foreground of the Book and Christina is the background of the Book. Even with Christina gone, she like a holy ghost permeates and haunts it… The Book will always keep Christina alive, and I will resurrect Christina into some Book monstrosity or eldritch abomination or biblically accurate angel meme of the Book, I say. Yes, because she would love through you, says Asia. You probably meant “live through you” but I also like the idea of “love through you.” Sorry, yes, I meant live. I think about how we are transformed through others, I say. How we carry others with us, that immersion of the unconditional. I like the idea of loving others better, caring for others better, through her, because she transformed me. Live and love through the unconditional, carry on always to others through relationships creativity, discourse… I agree, says Asia.

I displace stone place human body: Christina’s body Christina’s holy blood roses and rosary body without organs Christina’s body blooms rotor rhizome slope room roses I open rose room Christina’s rosary (Rosary roars Quiet Queen and Queen Quiet Christina. Rosary roars Rachel Ramah Christina and Christina Rachel Rintrah, and her rose roar rips open remnant. I follow the remnant in the memory of the rose, and Rachel Ramah and Rachel Rintrah follow Christina Rachel Rhizome. I follow Rachel Christina chrism rose melody. Her roar rents my clothes ben hinnom and I dip hell Rachel Ramah and Christina Rachel Rhizome. Christina’s rose rents Book veil from top to bottom rarefied by roses, and her roar rays Christina rhizome. Her roar ribs rock place and the rose place of the place.)

I displace stone place human bodily fluids and I flute fluid Christina silver Christina silver ghosts drive Rolls-Royce rhizome and rosaries I perform rosary and I parody rosary as parody mass and polyphonic initiation I initiate the parody and polyphony of rose, keystone, rhizome and Christina holy ghost I perform and parody Juggler and Magician and I round stone roses and rose stones I preform and parody Juggler story and magician narrative, and roses arise from Christina’s body

Christina’s body between between: Christina’s body between between rocks and roses and rock rose rhizome Her body without organs rose ostinato I body between her body roses Her body between between bewilder / rose repetition I repeat Christina roses and her repeated rose rhizome hits funk harmolodics (her rhizome and roses altogether different: a map and not a tracing Her rhizome all together hone harmolodics)

Idea, I say. Our friendship, Ben-And-Asia, is a god-activity and god-event that acts as a name of god and kingdom and a promise towards a future yet unfathomable unconditional. Sounds a little lofty, says Asia. That's fair, I say, but I’m also imagining all my friendships are like that. Christina-Ben is a god-activity and god-event, Taryn-Ben, etc. If every name is a name of god, then it stands to reason all my relationships are names and activities of god, I say. I don't like the connotation of God being used in this context, says Asia, because friendship and collaboration is a uniquely earth and human thing that God didn’t learn until he became human, she says. That's a good point, I say. What if we reverse it: instead of using “god” as a transcendent thing to identify the unconditional, what if the human and earthly and material friendship truly is the unconditional? God becomes human because he realizes he can’t understand the unconditional as god. The true unconditional activity is not god-transcendent activity, but human-earth-material activity. The goal of the unconditional isn’t to make earth-human-animal into transcendent god stuff but to bring down the god into the immanence and radical anarchic relationship of earth-human-animal stuff, I say. Maybe, says Asia.

I adore Asia’s “maybe”: I feel everything so intensely and I think in extremes, polarities, and absolutes, but Asia carefully weighs and considers. She does not commit to a position or idea until she fully examines it, considering likelihoods and possibilities, and I learn a lot from her approach. She gives much needed weight and measure to my impulsive and radical thought experiments and ideas.

Placed on a large flat rock / rock rib displayed I displace stone place Christ’s body and Christina’s body scripture fluid helicopter bloody I perform place pulse play impulsive: I parody place and the place impulsive punched bunched beehive Book Place performs place pine plow play-doh Play-doh place prayer pac-man panic

I place human body rose and I arose human place and Christ room five sturdy leaves between roses (Rosary roars Christina quiet ghost and Christina ghost queen. Her ghosts swam and rip open remnant and revenant. Her ghosts strewn low lawnmower roses and her crown of thorns shatter steel blades. Christina crowns ghosts crow ghosts coastal roses. I pick her roses and they vanish petal apparitions. Five sturdy leaves surrounding the rose rip open veil spectres of marx / short ghost car parking lot.) (I listen to the song Parking Lot by Mineral and I think Christina. I think Christina femur bone and I use the bone as a vase for lawnmower roses. I listen to Parking Lot by Mineral: But I know I’ve got to live my life and roll on the ground and feel the strife and I realize along the way I’m nothing more than a grain of salt in the salt of the earth and everything is grace. I hope resurrectionists find Christina and my bodies and fire fuck them up lightning Frankenstein monster. I sleep in rose salt and sea salt roses. I sleep in kelp and I keep cain chained to the bottom of the fucking ocean.)

Christina’s roar rents the Book veil from top to bottom rarefied by roses, and her roses ray laughter of resurrection. I laugh Christina Our Lady of Descent and Ascent and I travel her descent and ascent and I travel her descent and ascent seven sorrows seven dolors seven deserts. I ascend and descend seven sorrows seven dolors seven deserts and I laugh cry at our exile. I enter exile Christina roses and I experience exile Christina roses and I exit exile for exile Christina roses.

Placed on a large flat rock and covered by a series of smaller stones Smaller stones stray shipwrecks Smaller stones step serpentwise and I weigh the stones with stones I stall stone strum skyscraper body bodies rose resurrection Stones rest stones striptease differences between rock and stones Stones rest stones striptease the difference between ben body and Christina body / body rubble and babel ruin

I place stone on Christina’s stone stir melody / melody meanders leaves of grass and sea of reeds Christina seats reeds sea stone salt and somewhere in Antarctica she listens to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged in New York and sings: Jesus don’t want me for a sun beam… don’t expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die don’t ever ask your love of me… I ask for Christina’s love for me but she doesn’t respond I follow her rose and stone melodies into silence I follow Christina melodies pregnant silence and I will lay my bones among the rocks and roots

I follow Christina’s melodies emergent melodies melodien roses (I enter exile Christina roses and I experience exile Christina roses and I exit exile for exile Christina roses. I wander woman Christina meander everywhen and everywhere)

I follow the meaning of her rose I follow the rose melody and rose memory / the door we never took leads to Christina roses and Christina crucifixions Towards the door I never opened, the repetition of Christina roses / stone wreckages and rib rocks Christina places on a large flat stone / Christian rib rock and displayed bone (Bone dip junkyard Bone dog and bone machine Bone dip rib large flat rock Christina)

I follow Christina her rose melodic rainbow meander I follow Christina her rhizome riddim rhythm roses flowing along rivers Christina her rainbow rent rhizome rhythm continuum textures tesseracts Her textures here remain fluid yet shaped by the progression of events I act the god-name god-event Christina

Ben, listen to me, says August. If you go to SF and you don’t visit my best friend Methuselah at the California Academy of Sciences, I will fly over there and kick you directly in the asshole. She is the oldest (known) living fish [in an aquarium]. She likes being pet and her favorite treat is figs, says August. What a gentle soul, I say. I love her. I have seen the largest organism in the world, General Sherman, the redwood tree. Oh fuck off, that's so cool, says August. I’m so jealous. What's wild is this is not the largest known tree to ever exist, I say. [I share the Nooksack Giant]. This makes me so sad, says August. They killed her for no reason. I have a whole series of poems about named animals like Methuselah or Martha for this reason, he says. Do you know the movie Koyaanisqatsi? I say. Yes, says August. I have not watched it though. There’s a final section where the music is entitled “Prophecies” and the vocalists of the Philip Glass ensemble sing in Hopi. The final scene gives translations of the lyrics: “If we dig precious things from the land, we will invite disaster.” “Near the Day of Purification, there will be cobwebs spun back and forth in the sky.” “A container of ashes might one day be thrown from the sky, which would burn the land and boil the oceans.” There was an oyster that was as old as balls (scientific measurement), says August, and they tried to open it slightly to determine the age and fucking killed it. [Ming AKA Hafrún who lived between 1498 or 1499 or 2006]. Man, imagine being the scientist who did that shit, I say. You feel guilty forever. I’d legit just be like: well, guess I’ll go flip burgers now, says August. I would die with the clam, I say. Demon Core situation. I’m not sure how that would work but you know. No, I agree dead ass, says August. You ever read the Book of Revelation and you realize its woes and blood poured is actually our judgment for us for fucking up the earth? I say. Philip K. Dick had a vision of a messianic figure, which he named Tagore, and whatever happened to earth, Tagore would bear its wounds, and Tagore was totally messed up from what we were doing to the earth. For PKD in this moment, the only way for the Messiah to come again was for us to come to terms with the earth, and we could heal the messiah for him to bring the kingdom into action… I don’t know how this could happen but I hope my prophecy opens up the anarchic and creative action that heals earth, human, and divine. Like I’m writing to write this material kingdom into existence, the kingdom that heals and we heal the kingdom. The bronze serpent and Christ on the cross, you know… I feel like the only way I can survive is to keep creating and prophesying, I say. I think human nature as a concept is largely horseshit made up to justify arguments, says August, but the closest thing to it that exists is the human capacity to both create and collaborate with others. I think it’s what we were meant to do. I think we were given dominion over the earth in Genesis but the story of the human race seems to be God giving us an inch and us taking a mile, says August. I have an ambivalent relationship with God, I say, but I think of what Henri Matisse said. He was working on a church project, I forget the name of the church, and someone asked him if he believed in God. He said: “When I work, I believe in God… I feel something beyond me when I work…” I feel when I create and make and prophesy, I feel the interconnected beyond ben, I say. [The church is the Chapelle du Rosaire de Vence – Chapel of the Rosary]. I feel God in other people, says August. I almost never feel him when I’m alone, he says. I was having this conversation with Asia today, I say. Let me show some of what I told her. [I send August the Asia + Ben conversation starting with: “Idea: our friendship, Ben-And-Asia, is a god activity…”] I like Asia’s point there, says August. I think friendship is a gift from God that only came once we began to exist. God does have dominion over everything, and that does include friendship, and He is all that love is at its more pure level. Simone Weil said that God is love as an emerald is green, and we have a certain privilege over God in that we can choose not to love Him back. I think that when we love others we are not just loving them but that of God that dwells within them, says August. I was talking to my friend Ann Marie about Meister Eckhart, I say. For Eckhart, God is closer to us than our own soul, but simultaneously the ground of God resides in our soul. God is not a being, but beyond being, a ground of being, and he is inseparable from our own soul. To recognize God then is to recognize our true selves. We can extend this to say to recognize someone else as they truly are – an impossible task – is to recognize God as well, I say. I agree with that entirely, says August. I thought you might, I say. I think I also agree with it to a certain extent. I participate in the God insofar as I participate in the unconditional love present and in and with earth, animal, and human beings, I say.

Today, I edited a blog post entitled “God Activity Occurs In These Fragments” and I complain my conversation with Asia went on too long and in the future, I’d like to break up the conversations with more material and experiments between, but fuck it: I like this conversation with August and I keep it whole.

Placed on a large flat stone, Christina’s rib ground roses I follow the memory of the rose rock and rock rhizome I follow her rose melody over bone meander: rib cage crow curvature, skull salt shipwrecks, femur fuses fat bonfire Roses textures remain fluid yet shaped by the progression of events (I shape god-names and god-events anarchic activities)

I muddle melody with her rose petals

Five sturdy leaves: salvation; five gates: two columns

I muddle melody and memory metal split rose petal spur petals

I rabbit rose a language music long melody I rose the long line disneyland into desert lattices Language music rose large lattice shutter-shutter nonlinear lot matrix

I Follow The Memory Of The Rose

I follow the memory of the rose I follow rose melody and rose memory Follow rose grows human flesh: rose grows flesh human crucifixions Rose crucifixes melody and memory machine mammary / rose lactated lights Rose lactates she lights the lights gold milk and philosopher’s milk

I follow the melody of the rose machine milk and rose melody collects milk oil

I follow the melody of the rose rhizome

Rose ragtime row rose ragtime rhizome

Rose experiments ash ooze oil Ash adds rose passages and rose pairs rose ash oil olives: rose olives body without organs

Rose experiments rose ash oil and rose pours oil and melody skull murmur Melody mall skull hammer the harbor of the rose Rose realizes rose knot gnosis ran ram rose melody

I follow rose rope rag or rib I follow rose rope ragtime garden and rose scissors jagged garden leaves of grass

Rose bewilders me and in my bewilderment, I lose rose wild. I lose rose without memory and I wander the rose garden without roses (… wander roses without roses and garden without roses nomad… … nomad no roses river rhizome no roses nomad… … Christina, guide me through the nonexistent rose garden and sing the rose melody…) Rose bewilders me and I lose rose the very remember of Christina. Christina remains and reminds rose ghosts. I grow ghosts in the empty and not-empty rose garden. I follow the rose rope rhizome ghosts.

I follow rose melodies emerge rose melodies melodien (Their polyphonic weave, by contrast is more reminiscent of a labyrinth, allowing individual melodies to emerge only fitfully. The contrasting kinetic elements, forming a single continuous structure in a permanent state of flux, flowing alone like a river, each of whose meanders differs considerably from the next one: within this continuum there are sudden inlets and even fissures that disrupt the calm and gradual transformation of the musical material.) I move musical material among materials mirror roses I maneuver music material among roses material roses Rose material mirrors rose material an iridescent and metallic musics / rose gold dust followings Rose meanders melody bewilder and I work melody wild wild rose garden

Roses mix melody off minor intermedia Roses mix mixture my maria melody model roses I remember roses follows wild memory ben bewildered

I follow the memory of the rose I follow the rose melody and rose memory

I follow rose rope and rope rhizome melody and roses meander all memory (I recall T.S. Eliot’s Burnt Norton: Footfalls echo in the memory down the passage which we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose garden… Memory: memory meander of memory and labyrinth of memory: memory Memory meander the monster of roses and I remember nothing Christina and Christina nil abomination of desolation desert rose I follow rose rope and I walk word rose rhizome: her word rose Christina arose ghosts in the garden The absent rose garden evokes summer storm and saw hail hazard memory (My memory happens in roses My memory happens the Christina garden muddy mural of roses and her rose rascals Christina ghosts wrestle: I wrestle ghost memory rhizome no rescue A rose of memory arrives without memory or Christina / Christina robs the roses of my memory)

I follow the memory of the rose which always leads to Christina absent-present, Christina dead-alive, Christina holy ghost rose garden (What’s the stinkiest planet? Poopiter, I say. Miles is CACKLING, says Christina. I thought he might like it, I say. Thomas is in the room too, and he was the super judgmental that it doesn't really count as a joke and judged Miles and me for laughing. So Miles and I left the room. We are total means girls. Rightfully so, I say. That's the right choice. I agree, says Christina. Does Miles think I’m cool? Oh totally. He says things like “That guy is wild!”. I am wild, I say. Wild about traditional Christian values! He said, “yeah, see? Who knows what that guy’s TALKING about!”. And he shook his head while saying it, but like good naturedly, says Christina.)

I follow the memory of the rose which always leads to Christina and the cusp of her garden doubles desert Christina rose cusp rose garden rhizome disturbing the dust on a bowl of rose leaves I do not know

I wrestle with this rose written and rewritten because I wrestle with Christina cross cup cross I rewrite her ghost five sturdy leaves between five identical volumes of leaves of grass / blue shakespeare's memory I wrestle rose with rose cup Christina: you are the one who writes and the one who is written I withdraw from the rose but I cannot withdraw from the rose face: her face I cannot withdraw from her rose face rhizome Christina her face Her rose – Christina’s rose – writes and rewrites the Book rhizome (I get up with the page she writes and I lie down with the page she erases)

I wrestle with her rose and her rose grows rapid rhizome river melodies (the prominent state of flux flowing along like a river each of whose meanders differ considerably from the next) I flux fuck Christina holy ghost and I meander the Christina rose memory (Years ago, says Christina, I taught Fox “Patience is a bitter plant that yields sweet fruit” as a coping skill while teaching him not to grab things. So we sometimes say it as an inside joke. This week, something prompted me to say it to Fox in the car, and Miles gave a big dramatic eye roll / sigh / tsk and said “That is hands down the most useless thing you have ever said”. Anyways, I thought it was hilarious. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly how I reacted the first time you used that saying with me, says C. I stole it from Metal Gear Solid, I say. I didn’t know you still used it. I needed to come up with a random phrase to teach Fox just to put some space between a thing being there and his grabbing it. It was the first thing that came to mind, she says. I am a BIG INFLUENCE on your life, I say. Yep and now the boys, says Christina.)

I miss Christina and I follow the memory of the rose I follow the memory of her rose down the passage which we did not take towards the door we never opened into the rose garden (I follow the memory of her rose down the passage we did not take and I take the passage and do not take the passage. I take the passage the plunge of prayer and passion. I take the passage I did not take and I meander its musical material, the mirror materiality of its roses, the roses riven rare red ran, my red body without organs. I follow the memory of the rose Christina before and after, and Ben Before Christina crags a passage I do not take. Passages pulse allwhen Christina roses and Christina memories and Christina melodies) (Roses reveal Christina’s skull permanently embedded in ben’s skull, a ghost parasitic twin)

I follow her rose melodies emerge melodies melodien I meander melodien rose labyrinth and lamp stand I follow her rose rainbow meanders meanders tyrannosaurus rex taryn rex rhizome I meander her rose rhizome riddim rhythm riven flowing along like a river Rainbow rose river rhizome river continuum: her rose raft rainbow taryn tyrannosaurus trace think texture tesseracts The textures here remain fluid yet shaped by the progression of events

I work rose the long line Disneyland into desert lattices I rack rose long line and large lattice shutter-shutter line I rule rose liner nonlinear lot matrix Rose work long line there is a balm in gilead

I was writing about your tattoos yesterday, I say. You telling me the story of your first couple tattoos and ideas you had for future tattoos. I feel the Book gives a really good roundness to our friendship, although it probably leans too much into the heavy / negative sometimes. I feel most of our conversations aren’t heavy. They're mostly just sharing life stuff or stuff we’ve picked up or make up or whatever and I would like to reflect that more in the Book. My insecurities and lack of trust have overwhelmed the Book with the heavier but now that I feel more confident, I think that gives me some room to reflect more frogs, more insects, more pin-ups, I say. Sure, says Asia. Why does friendship have to be a heavy thing for you? she says. A lot of my writing the past year about us has been reassuring myself our friendship is getting better and it has power and all that. I don’t think friendship is inherently heavy, only that I had to write us the way I did to help us grow and much of that stuff was concerned with spiraling and growing and unconditional love. I don’t think the unconditional is inherently heavy, just that at the time the context was heavy. Now we have grown and are in a healthier place. Our friendship doesn’t have to be written so tightly bound with spiraling and mental illness. Writing that conversation about tattoos reminded me our friendship is very wide and I haven't acknowledged that wideness of it properly. So that’s the new direction I want to go in for writing us. Do you like that idea? I say. Yeah, says Asia. As long as you know that means a shift in perspective. Those heavy conversations tend to happen because of what you are focused on at the time. Fear and anxiety. There have been times that I wanted to bring up something light and fun and didn’t because you weren’t in the headspace for it. I’m not saying that you can control your moods but they can build or spiral or become bigger than what they are and the fear and anxiety are at the root. I also want to point out that you have made a lot of progress, says Asia. That’s true, I say. I still feel even at my worst though we were talking about a lot of other things too. I feel our friendship was wide even then. I wrote what I wrote to help heal though, and that’s OK and necessary. I feel now we are at a place where we can put our friendship in a wider context in the Book, I say. I agree with that, says Asia. Hope what I said wasn’t overly harsh; I just was trying to clarify a perspective. It made sense to me, I say. I feel like you’re saying I had to write and experience that because I did feel fear and anxiety. Sometimes that caused issues and distortions but we got through it. Writing through the fear and anxiety towards the unconditional care of our friendship helped with that and is an ongoing process. But much progress has been made. Because of that we can encompass a wider perspective of our friendship in the Book. Does that sound like an accurate summary of our thoughts? That sounds pretty accurate, says Asia.

I appreciate the structure of this conversation with Asia because of its frequent questions, clarifications, and repetitions – it reminds me of verifying a telephone order, with the order read back to the doctor for verification. It may seem tedious, but because I sometimes I experience delusions or feel out-of-touch with reality, I feel very grounded and I trust our communication when we confirm and verify each others’ thoughts. This ironically becomes part of the heavier conversations but it still sets a paradigm and precedent for effective “serious” conversations between us. I still have many heavier conversations saved to record and I contemplate dating all of them to make the progress between us transparent, but time in the book and the experience of time in the Book proves nebulous and amorphic. Book time mixes and remixes kairos and chronos, bereshit time with messianic time with time crucified and resurrected, and I present time parousia pulse parousia. In one sense, the Asia and Ben body without organs rhizome exists, experiences, and experiments allwhen and allwhere an instantaneous moment singularly dense: this is unconditional love and friendship present in unconditional time – time present and time past both present in time future as T.S. Eliot writes in Burnt Norton.

I flow the memory of the rose I follow the rose melody and rose memory

I follow the rose rain rush rain I follow the rose rain rhizome rain between rain I follow the rose between rain body without organs between ostinato Rose ball body without organs beyond the barline ostinato trill / rhizome trill tremolo tongues of fire I beam breathe between roses between leaves south gate leviathan Taryn leviathan between leaves bloomslang boomerang leviathan Taryn Taryn leaf leviathan rose aleph owlglossy almonds

I follow the memory of her rose and Christina rin red round between red: Christina between between her roses (I know Christina in her rose horror: I am a rose of sharon and the lily of the valleys / as the lily among thorns, so is my love among the daughters) I follow Christina between between her roses: she witches her roses bewitched body without organs

I Clean Her Cup

I clean her cup the cups of the cross I clean her cup crisp cusp clasp cross her Christina Cup reoccurs her cup clasp crash Christina and Christina her cup cleans cup cinders

I clean her cup civil war and crimes of the future I clean her cup a tree best measured when cut down

Cup contra cup chair cup bone china I clean cup contra contra cup chair bone and chair body without organs (I work with organ fragments and piano fragments I work piano fragments pianissimo piranha pairs Here I experiment cup and I open cup donut topology I break the cup and the experiment fails but I continue the cross of the cup Cup crucify cups and I experiment contra-cup counter-cup, and cup clip circles I continue cup experiments and fragments)

I clean her cup the cusp of the cross: this cup of blessing which rests on five fingers, like the rose sitting on five sturdy leaves paradise of five fingers Cup cleans cup the cups of the mystical rose and rose cross / this cup of blessing rests on five fingers like a rose sitting on five leaves This rose is cup of blessing

I realize rose and the repetition of the rose. I recognize the cup and the irregular cross-sections repeated from the cup. I know rose from remember beginning and recreate beginning first times. I realize rose in rose resurrection, and the rose cup repeats rose full rosary. I hear and realize horror hours of the rosary. I pray the round hymn of the cross rosary and I cross rosary brief visions and bereft waters. I pray the rosary cup Christina and blessing ben hinnom. I meditate on the scourging on the pillar and I see Jesus clutch the pillar of salt and the salt of the earth Lot’s Wife. The salt burns his wounds and also heals his wounds open a Christian earth and Christian salt spiral jetty. He does not let go of her but carries her to Golgotha. Her salt atones for the Eloi Eloi Lema Sabacthani of God the Father, and she spoons space for forgive them they do not know what they do. Golgotha superimposes and glues simultaneous Gomorrah and Gethsemane. Gomorrah and Gethsemane intermix human skin and mire ore in intercourse.

This cup of blessing rests on five fingers like a rose sitting on five sturdy leaves paradigm of five fingers

Here, repetition of the rose Here rests repetition of the rose Repetition rests on the rose arose standing bodies Here repetition her rose repeats rose the rhizome of the Book (Asia Rhizome Asia Among the Ark and Archive of Roses Asia With Weevils in the beginning was the Word) Rose repeats rose red skull cup Rose reveals rose red skull cup repetition (the leaves of rose plants grow in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves) Rose round my body redder rhythm: rhythm rows rhizomes (the flow of emanation saves the rose of Shekinah from the demonic thorns surrounding her)

I witness a different vision or a different experiment of the scourging of the pillar. I see the pillar made of stones and its infinite column extends upward into heaven and plumbs downward into the depths of the world, the realm of the dead. Jesus’ blood coagulates and creates ladder rungs, and the dead ascend from sheol. Dead ascend from sheol and angels descend from the skies, and earth circulates celestial intersections. The Pillar-Ladder and Ladder-Pillar becomes the Chief Cornerstone and Keystone of the New Jerusalem. It extends again and spans infinitely horizontally word wall and the arches of the gate, and anyone who enters receives the full hospitality of KRYSXTRYN Our Lady. The blood beetles bay and scurry solid the foundation of New Jerusalem, the lamb slain from the foundation of the Earth. The blood transmutates human blood into gold clear as crystal. Jesus as text and palimpsest crystals prima materia, and crucifixion transmutates his body into god gold (my body and her body coalesce into peacock feathers and the riddle of the loin’s mane mystical rose). The community of artists and architects and prophets form the foundation and infrastructure and invisible churches.

To produce five sturdy leaves surrounding the rose: these five are called salvation and they are five gates

Five leaves five gates Five leaves lace five gates and fie leaves lacewing fire gates

Five leaves look lot five gates pillar of salt: I sleep the salt to my lips kiss ben brimstone and spider sulfur.

I’ve been thinking of one based on the concept of “patron saint of lost causes”, says Asia. What is the patron saint of lost causes? I say. There is an actual saint, but I was thinking of mixing religious themes with not so desirable lost causes. Like have a saint with the halo and everything but give him tattoos and a cigarette and he’s feeding people and stray animals or something but not in a way where the people look like they are beneath him. I was working on an excerpt, I say, and you told me a few years ago about your experiences getting your first tattoos and how your little sibling was with you. You said your mom was OK with your first tattoo but not your second. Would you be willing to tell me the story about your mom’s reactions to your tattoos, and why she wasn’t OK with the second one? I say. My first tattoo was RELIGIOUS and had MEANING – and was small and easily overlooked. My second one was big and was for funsies. She was this whole “my body is a temple” mentality. She's all “technically I’M the rebel for NOT having any tattoos”, says Asia. You have 5 tattoos now? I like all of yours. 4, says Asia. No, you’re right, it’s 5. Hey I know you pretty well, I say. I feel proud I got the number right. No, it’s four, says Asia... Fuck, says Asia. I’m wearing long sleeves, I don’t know what my body looks like. ASIA WHY DO I KNOW HOW MANY TATTOOS YOU HAVE AND YOU DON’T. LISTEN, says Asia. I don’t have an answer, she says. Taryn got a tattoo! I say. She got a tattoo of a flower on her wrist. I think you’re living a good life if you forget how many tattoos you have. I want more, says Asia. I want so many that when people ask me how many I have, I just shrug my shoulders. Do you have any design plans for future tattoos? I have a few ideas, says Asia. I want some beetles. A walking leaf insect and one related to hermit card but it’s just the lantern with a star in it with flowers and wrens around it. One based on the concept of “patron saint of lost causes”. I like all those ideas, I say.

I clean her cup the cusp of the cross Beetles and walking leaf insects emerge from the cup Beetles bar blood skull cup cross cup bay beetles Beetles bay bark ben hinnom her skull car blood batch beetles

I clean her cup and I mistake the making leaf insects for five sturdy leaves surrounding the rose Asia produces five sturdy leaves surrounding the rose and they unveil their Torah walking leaf insects

Five leaves sleeve sieve fire gates (between two south gates and the granite they’re warming, or her face has been lifted, or the asp domed) Between her leaves beetle between midrash rhizome (the rhizome a map and not a tracing but between leaves Between her five sturdy leaves, secret walking leaf insects Their leaves make a map and not a tracing)

Between her two south gates sawtooth Taryn tongues Between bitches brew jaw south gate southpaw puncher-boxer (every sound a machine running becomes unbearable to the body without organs)

Here her rose repeats her rose between Ring around the roses repeats ring around the roses, and her roses surround my skull rosary repetition I pray rosary the lantern and star of the hermit of and I wide leave ladder congealed blood and gold I hide leaves stand up walking leaf insects and I reenact the stations of the cross in the Old City

I pray the third and fourth sorrowful mystery of the rosary, and her mysteries roses press apocalypse into my eyes octaves (I saw a dream that frightened me; my fantasies in bed and the visions of my head terrified me). I pray the third and fourth sorrowful mysteries of the rosary and her ring around the roses crowns my skull hourglass horror and body without organs (I had a terrifying dream as I lay in bed, and the images and my visions frightened me). Her mysteries and roses impress my skull with street photographs and the crowded city grids slowly transform into interlocking series of cathedrals. The crown of thorns thistles and flickers human flesh. The crown of thorns triangle Taryn transformation transmutation transfiguration: the crown of thorns time between and behind world serpent. Word thorn Taryn World serpent encircles the World and Book, and Taryn too tails twice leviathan and ouroboros. Her mouth of thorns devours her tail of thorns, perfectly circular.

Her rose appears doubly as rose and the visions terrifying the blessing of the cup carried as the cross. Christ carries the cross and it plows the ground trailing. The ground plowed spawns the river sprung rhythm. Immediately, people enter the river and receive the baptism of water and the baptism of the holy ghost. The cross carried plows four rivers cruciform: four rivers encircling Eden, and four rivers KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome. The cross crows rows and oars the Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil fucked through women around me and crucifixions. The Tree and Cross crucifies body without organs ouroboros and Taryn rainbow serpent uses her body to scrape open lakes and rivers, her nude palimpsest.

I follow Taryn’s melodic rainbow line I follow Taryn serpent and rainbow melodies Melodies mime mine climb melodies bloody ladder skull clatter I follow the melodic rainbow line and I clear her cup the cusp of the cross I link the rainbow melody to the melodic cross ladder: her light scattered rungs of the ladder cut cross Ladder cut cross nonlinear rainbows body without organs: ladders cut crosses nonlinear rainbow lamina Lamina load lattice lattice melodies: melodies fragments sun saddle points

I clean her cup the cusp of the cross and I follow the melodic rainbow line Jesus don’t want me for a sunbeam (don’t expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die Don’t ever ask your love of me) (I listen to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged in New York and underneath the bridge the tarp has sprung a leak and the animals I’ve trapped have all become my pets)

The five sorrowful mysteries reflect the pass in the Garden of Eden. Jesus dwells in the garden and Jesus endures the curses the YHVH proclaims on Adam and Eve: toiling the soil with thistles and briers, taking upon himself and identifying identical with the serpent in the garden, the bronze and bone serpent raised up by Moses; one dwells in dust and desert but nevertheless heals… I contemplate the circular ouroboros and in circles I play protoevangelium: she will strike your head and you will bruise her heel. I prophesy a passion between Eden and beyond passion, and Christina stands at the foot of the Cross. The blood of Jesus spirals spoon ladder and spool ladder her sacrifice serpent sewing machine.

Were you considered gifted in school? I ask Asia. Kinda, she says. I had some honors classes but I was some disorganized and never turned things in. I was also super good at certain subjects and obscenely bad at others, she says. Hey hear me out, but that might be signs you have ADHD. No, really? I never would have guessed, says Asia. Good thing you have me around to teach you this stuff, I say. Did I tell you about this one time in middle school, says Asia, where we were waiting for our teacher to pick up our class after lunch and I was just talking nonstop and practically jumping up and down and some kid in my class looked at me straight in the face and asked “Do you have ADHD?” and I was like “What’s that?”, says Asia. I do that except it’s I’m bipolar, I say. How old were you when you got diagnosed? she says. 18 or 19, I say.

(Asia instructs the reader: jump up and down on various stones, from stone to stone, and rock to rock, and the stones conceal the roses)

I Gesture A Generating Tune And A Guttural God Drone

I gesture a generalizing tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes

I gesture on the seventh day Godhead finished his work which he had done, and he rested on the seventh day from all his work which he had done

I gesture a generating tune Taryn Tetragrammaton     I gesture chain gang tunes grow torture garden and palm tree garden violences     Palm tree Garden graphic violences volumes viaducts cut tunes cut time

I gesture garden sabbath and god sabbath and I pose sabbath south serpentine (slayer south of heaven)     I gut sabbath gods covering cherub cut time alchemies     I stir alchemies bitches brew tunes

Gesture grid gesture gate     Gesture grey grid stone garden     I gesture stones and gardens: I move stones sabbath and I grow gardens gods

I gesture a genuine silence

For this work John Cage employed harmonic subtractive techniques on two hymns by Williams Billings: Old North and Heath

I subtract hymns and I add hymns     I subtract hymns and I add hymns desert desert Taryn     I subtract hymn her serpentine core wire chiaroscuro     I subtract hymn Christina chiaroscuro / shadow time time Taryn stations of the cross     I subtract hymns subtle shadow halo dagger

Hymns subtract ice from hymns with ice water     Hymns subtract harmony her melody garden gesture     Hymns subtract technique titer tether Taryn

I hear hymns every hour and I need thee every hour.  I hear hymns holy holy holy Lord God Almighty and early in the morning I mourn hours and hourglass gesture gods.  I hear hymns holy holy holy all saints adore thee.  Hymns haste come thou fount of every blessing and the fount opens a garden locked my sister my bride.  I hear hymns and I hang from the church rafters sound rift and rhizome.  I myself sound hymn here I raise my ebenezer hither by thy help I’ve come.  Hymns and wholly hymns reverberate Child of Humanity and I hymn holy holy holy humanity.

I hymn Child of the Child Child of Humanity     I hymn Child of the Child cross the Human One (Human life is concentrated bestially in the mouth) (The forces of the cosmos confront an intergalactic traveler immobile in the capsule)     Taryn twists triad hymns be thou my vision, O Lord of my heart     Taryn twists savior of the twins hymn and her hymn twins trine Child of Humanity     She trumpets hymns the regions of rhizomes and apocalypses

I gesture a generating tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes

John Cage employed harmonic subtraction techniques on two hymns by William Billings: Old North and Heath.  Each hymn is treated in this fashion of 5 iterations, resulting in 10 variations.

I iterate hymn and I repeat hymn: I repeat hymn gesture iterations     I iterate hymn free improvisation increase fires     I fold iterative hymn fires rock of ages cleft for me may I hide myself in thee     I iterative fractal hymn and fractal melody, an iterative Book (A fractal is by definition a set for which the Hausdorff-Besicovitch dimension strictly exceeds the topological dimension     A fractal is a rough or fragmented geometric shape that can be split into parts, each of which is – at least approximately – a reduced-size copy of the whole) (A Book exceeds the fractal by the rough of the Book, and it splits Book geometries glue and fragmented glue desert dimensions)     I free fire free jazz Book fractal and I gesture free god sabbath tine serpent

I iterate hymn and I believe that the use of noise to make music will continue and increase until we reach a music produced through the aid of electrical instruments     I generate noise and I iterate noise upper and lower nile     I generate noise and Asia Rhizome conversations

(I have long-suffered with intense episodes of bipolar disorder and anxiety.  Recently, I have had some of the worst mixed episodes I have had in my life.  As a writer and creative prophet, I pour all these experiences and intensities into my art and maybe 10 people read it on my blog.  I have been contemplating what Spalding Gray contemplated: a “creative suicide” could prove the perfect end to a creative career frequently marked by bouts of mental illness and suicidal ideation.  I have been thinking of the Book as a long suicide note and when I die the Book ends and I imagine my suicide as a logical and satisfying completion.  All the Book records the wrestling of this long-suffering Ben and my failure to reconcile with this long-suffering Ben if this is the case.  But I’m still here.  The Present (if there is such a thing as this present) Creative Prophet Ben writes here everywhen.  I continue when and what now to create and write.  I hope despite the dark nights of the soul the Book does not end with the completion of an imagined creative suicide but ends like Walt Whitman’s Leaves of Grass – adding to it and updating it until its 1892 deathbed edition when he died of old age.  My death shouldn’t act as an end, but the middle, beginning, and middle of everywhere else and else everywhen and what.  The What and Who after Ben continue to prophesy the Book.) (A correction to Walt Whitman’s death: his cause of death was listed as “pleurisy of the left side, consumption of the right side, general military tuberculosis and parenchymatous nephritis” as the age of 72.)

I gesture a generating tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes    (John Cage employed harmonic subtractive techniques in two hymns by William Billings: Old North and Heath)     I treat the hymn in this fashion for 5 iterations resulting in 10 variations     I vary hymn her fuguing tune     I vary hymn to hymn be still my soul the Lord is on thy side     I fragment hymn and I fractal hymn in abstract expressionist brush gestures     Hymns fragment hymns child of humanity and my head emerges cross raw human     My head emerges raw river sausage come thou fount of every blessing     My head emerges asphalt feral pig eyes and snout / feral hymn fragments go to dark gethsemane     My eye engineers immediate head desert rabbit oscillation     I hymn human wild hunt haunts all the habitations of the spheres     Spheres bore skull blades drills lasers circular saws     Spheres siphon skulls child of the child classified information (game theory perfection information)

I find hymns embedded in my scalp: big god ticks we suck young blood.  I feel hymns swim beneath the surface of my skull leaving wormwood trails and tree knots.  Hymns knock against my skull tree knots and they fragment my skull concussive bone scars.  Hymns fragment my skull cross concubine a mighty fortress is our god a bulwark never failing.

I will summarize the excerpt in a couple lines for you and let me know if you like the summary, I say.  Asia is the person who I write for because she encourages me and excites my creativity in ways I don’t think of, and her participating in the Book makes the Book better and makes me feel more connected with our friendship.  Sounds pretty accurate, says Asia.

I gesture a generating tune and a guttural god drone     I hymn my flesh melodies long duration desert and desert fires ben fugitive fog drone and timeless tone

American composer and director of “experimental intermedia”, Phill Niblock posed for a photograph at the soundcheck for a concert of his works in the World Music Institute “interpretations” series at Merkin Concert Hall, New York, Thursday, January 17, 1991

I gesture desert drone and desert hymn     I gesture desert drone beats resulting from the two engines running at slightly different frequencies     I gesture desert draw tone Taryn drone: beats seats sheets of sounds sum salts     Sound salts create silences images produce the river banks

I love them! I say.  I told you you pick such cool fashion.  I like the rose pattern a lot.  Very beautiful purple too.  I picked out the skirt, says Asia.  The shop owner started running around looking for things that would look good on me and picked out the dress.  She said it looked fun.  That’s cool! I say.  I love random experiences with people who are passionate about stuff.  It’s fun meeting people like that in the wild, she says.  It reminds me too of the story you said about the older woman helping the younger woman out, I say.  I think we forget sometimes like there’s all these pockets and communities and kindness itself is a form of revolution and revolt.  Yes, says Asia.  I’ve been thinking a lot about community and service and reciprocity in relationships with beings around us.  Not only have I been reading Braiding Sweetgrass, but my daughter was watching this documentary about the ocean and it discusses how much ocean creatures rely on each other.  Not only is there very strong codependent relationships between species on a day to day basis but they rely on creatures to be clean and enjoy being clean by creatures they could easily eat.  There is a type of crab that like ride on a jellyfish until it’s big enough to take care of itself and a medusa fish that is similar, but later in the documentary it shows that they all release their eggs together so that the little crab hatches, all small and translucent, just a tiny thing in an infinite ocean and he finds a newly hatched jelly, and they travel the expansive ocean together, starting their journey together.  I’m starting to cry thinking of the little crab and the little jelly joining together to face the vastness of the ocean together.  They seek each other out.  The same with the medusa fish. I was thinking of all that then I saw this fucking TikTok where someone's mom was hunched over on the beach scraping barnacles off horseshoe crabs and almost lost it.  What an act of service for absolutely no personal benefit.  They saw a need, they filled it.  They helped because they could, says Asia.  That's really beautiful, I say.  I need to figure out how to practice that more.  Like “useless kindness”.  Kindness that lacks capital utility and financial utility or whatever else drives our world (cost benefit analysis shit) and just kindness that makes the world better outside that.  I think about how we domesticated pigeons because we needed them, says Asia.  Changing their chemistry and genetics forever through their relationship with us then tossing them outside when we didn’t need them – what a disgusting mindset.  I refuse to interact with the world that way.  Things have inherent value and don’t have value just because I can use them for something, says Asia.  I totally agree with that, I say.

I draw desert     I draw time desert     I drone draw desert time Taryn     I time Taryn gestures and a grand Taryn generalizing tune     I hymn her desert taryn time kairos: I her hymn messianic time fragments     I iterate fragments of time and fragments of desert: desert detours door dune sand streams from my Apartment House 1776     I draw desert composition and desert drones only vowel sounds     Desert drones vowels only without vibrato

I gesture a generalizing tune swing sing swung bone     I gesture desert sketch sketch melody lydian mixolydian lighthouse     I draw desert lighthouse lysis lysol limerance / liminal limerance lighthouse

I follow the melodic rainbow line and line with the nonlinear gog and magog breaking sunbeams     I follow the melodic rainbow line Jesus don’t want me for a sun beam (don’t expect me to cry for all the reasons you had to die   don’t ever ask your love of me) (I listen to Nirvana’s MTV Unplugged in New York and I often chant sure char in the pines / where did you sleep last night     I sing to the Absent Christina and to the blue ghost glue Christina: my girl my girl don’t lie to me tell me where did you sleep last night     A young Christina steals the corpse of Kurt Cobain and in Antarctica, she revives his body and reassembles it as Frankenstein’s Monster)

I follow melodies emergent melodies melodien: harsh hymn fragments scattered by the rosary     I hymn her desert hem: I hem her desert hymn my skull revives Christina Fragments     I hymn fractal desert what a friend we have in Jesus all our sins and grief to bear     I follow her melodies acoustic aleatoric act melodies

I am working on editing an excerpt and I came across this, I say.  “I do not want my metacommentaries and meditation to close off and define a certain hermeneutics, but to open up a method, methods, or methodless method analogous to a religionless religion that necessarily invites one to participate and invent new texts in dialectics and conversations…”  I think the power of creativity and creative thinking and kindness is: it invites us not to be separate from the world but active beings and belongings to the world.  It opens rather than defines, I say.  There is no hierarchy, says Asia.  There aren’t creatures below me that don’t deserve dignity.  Here, here is a fun thing you could try, she says.  Put some instructions at or near the end of the blog posts.  Even if its’ all for fun, or an artistic expression like:  “First, take your grandfather’s favorite glass, fill it with moon water, and pour it slowly over your head while listing things you have broken free from.”  Anything but in one way or another inviting the audience to participate in something, says Asia.

(The Desert instructs me to instruct the desert:  Desert, draw the desert     Reader, draw the reader drawing the desert)

I follow the melodies emergent melodies melodien (their polyphonic weave, by contrast, is more reminiscent of a labyrinth, allowing individual melodies to emerge only fitfully… The contrasting kinetic element forming a single continuous structure in a perpetual state of flux, flowing along like a river, each of whose meander differs considerably from the next one: within this continuum, there are sudden inlets and even fissures that disrupt the calm and gradual transformation of the musical material…)

I follow the short melody and the long melody both directions at once     I follow the short fragment desert hymnal and the long melodic desert drone both directions at once     I follow the short melody machine melody and I gesture a generalizing tune     (I follow the washing machine melody and the diamond sea melody)

I listen to György Ligeti’s Melodien and San Francisco Polyphony, and although I respect Ligeti’s micropolyphony and even feel inspired by its intricate and dense melodic sprawl that twists Taryn twists writing, I rarely listen to those early works with pleasure.  However, his transitional middle works, from around Clocks and Clouds to San Francisco Polyphony more than inspire me and I feel pure joy and pure pleasure listening: that mixture of intertwined dependent melodies and emerging independent melodies, and I hope a flexible and intuitive approach to micropolyphony rubs off on the Book (Book interpenetrates Book desert dense micropolyphony)

I follow melodies emergent melodies melodien     I follow the melodic rainbow line meanders meanders tyrannosaurus rex rex rhizome     I follow rhizome riddim rhythm riven flowing along like a river     Rain river rhizome rhythm continuous sum tyrannosaurus thrak thrak textures     Taryn thrak thrak tesseract textures: the textures here remains fluid yet shaped by the progression of events

I’m really inspired by the Fluxus movement, I say.  One goal of the movement was anyone could make art and anyone could participate in art making.  Maybe a future project would be to “mad lib” the book and make spaces for people to insert their own words and experiments into it, I say.  I don’t think art and artists should be put on a pedestal for a special person, says Asia.  I think all people should participate in creativity in our way or another everyday, she says.  Completely agree, I say.  I was writing a conversation last week where we talked a little about this.  You were saying how schools are designed like prisons and how public art was so inaccessible.  This is partly on purpose because art is the opposite of the prison and the rigorous discipline of children and prisoners: art opens up, art questions, art frees the person to become the full person, but schools are designed to create laborers, I say.  Art doesn't even have to be all that, says Asia.  It can just be beautiful, and the person who made made it to make beauty and others take a moment of their time and look at it and see something beautiful, says Asia.

I gesture a generalizing tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes     I follow melodies emergent melodies melodien     (The Desert instructs me to instruct the desert:  Desert, draw the desert     Reader, draw the reader drawing the desert)

Desert Increases Faster Than My Exploration

I draw desert     I draw time desert time treasure in the field     I draw desert field and field female: I furrow field female     I draw desert time desert deep treasure (The kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in a field, which a man found and covered up; then in his joy he goes and sells all he has and buys the field)     I draw field desert deep melody and discrete melody (I draw the stepwise discontinuous melody)

I draw field and I follow field the melodic rainbow line     I follow field rainbow melody model modulations     I draw desert melody time field melody     Draw melodic desert time cinema melody     Melody draws desert rainbow field rhizome and Taryn treasure (Taryn buries ben body in bog evaporates)

Draw modulates melodies rain magma     Desert draw modulates monarch to monarch transmigration of souls /  Draw desert stones sail stones     Draw modulates melodies stone drone Taryn to the field

Desert I follow the melodic rainbow line nonlinear: irrational melodies meddle music metals metals models (I model the Book stochastic orchestra and nonlinear narrative cinema)     I model metal galaxy gar super mario galaxy

I draw melody and I model melodies metro modes chemical church modes     I explore model medium median long a marginalia (maverick marginalia reveals open gospel) (maverick marginalia jaw gospel open turnings)     I explore modal desert and drone drawing desert desert (I explore desert dream field drone or bone)

Draw mode maw bone metal mettle kettle call cauldron / banded bitches brew

I draw and I never exhaust the desert.  I never completely map the desert but desert increases faster than my exploration.  Still, I explore desert and experiment desert, and desert runs two or three simultaneous Phill Niblock films.  I attempt to structure structures undifferentiated desert and the structures snap and break open wounded gears and bleeding engines, an open skin transmission.  I draw undifferentiated desert drones open excess and my body boils solar anus pustules.  I never exhaust desert but it increases its fat flow of melody: dissonant melody desert polyphony.  I never exhaust the seagull symphony of deserts and symphonies of desert.

I draw desert disaster melodies and modes exude etudes longitudinal exudate     Draw desert Andy Warhol death and disaster series and I spiral melodies metal mettle kettle corn catastrophes / clash down-tune Korn riff disaster desert     Draw field clash nu-metal mosh moth deserts (when a stranger calls musical horror)

Now again, the kingdom of heaven is like a treasure hidden in the filed, which a man found and hid.  In his joy, he goes and sells all that he has, and he buys that field.

I draw kingdom desert disintegration disintegrations of the emanations of the treasure     Treasure tiles Taryn treasury of light her region of the savior of the twins     Taryn treasure of light levitates regions of the solar anus and anus enunciates annunciation     Taryn twins treasure of light alligator-leviathan     Taryn twins treasure of light leopards and lionesses, and her teeth flank my ribs body rubber boom rhizome

(I sometimes bore of my texts.  I collect texts and I accumulate texts and I archive texts, and my haphazard exploration sometimes overwhelms.  I lose myself myself in the sea of reeds texts and I attack the text, enthusiastically and discretely / piecewise disorganized sun and rapid rhizome manic brain splits tents into fragment-constellations but I lose its origins and sources.  I feel utilizing more refrains, repetitions, and developing variation collects the texts more regularly irregular and mutant modular: it makes the heterogeneity into a unifying strata, a desert expanse where the solar anus shines dark upon the entire undifferentiated desert.  I accept the mania of my texts and I accept the boredom of my texts: I explore through the texts simultaneous, with purposeful parallax and creative prayers.  I explore the undifferentiated multiplicity of the textual desert, and my brain-nadir-begotten beguiles me: whatever text I abandon, whether abruptly or through thorough investigation, always returns to me, and naked its resurrection on known once gain in the Book.  Texts make their fractal and modular presence known and continually known, the absolute present women of the Book.  I abandon all texts then assemble them again kings of armageddon.)

I follow the melodic rainbow line to and through the desert time desert     I draw melody drop drift desert time drop     Desert draw drone Who mystery into mystery Who (This end of heaven is called Who   There is another below called What)
     
What melody weds Word     What melody weds Word Taryn wedded     Taryn Wedded who word wild weird west     Taryn Who wedded wild word weird west marriage of heaven and hell     I write her Who melodic hell riptide boom town undertow     I tow Taryn Who her to nudge: I tow Taryn tonnage quantum tunneling queer thunder     Who Taryn tunnel boat thunder two times through-composed melody

I do feel like I have a spiritual experiences reading and listening to people, says Asia.  It makes me wonder what spirituality is.  Spirituality is realizing the connection in what’s beyond yourself, I say.  I agree but I also think it’s a connection made inside the self, the external becoming internal, says Asia.  Yes, like when Christ says the Kingdom of God is within you, I say.  Interesting poems you sent me.  “Let’s wait for God in the dust and watch the stars.”  I liked that the most, I say.  Was that from one of the poems I sent you?  Yeah, Letter To My Body.  That was a good one, says Asia.  I thought you would like that one.  I admit I have been writing a lot about body, bone, skull, I say.  Physical bodily carnal things.

I draw my skull holy spirit     I draw desert skull going to leave an ugly skull when you go     I draw time desert time tent skull bone Taryn tetragrammaton     Draw bone time turn Taryn desert draws drone silver and silver bullet melody     I stay with my skull the bound bone of my texts     I stay skull witch Taryn and the texts tunnel skeleton rainbow and radiation melody     Melody strays radiate rhizome who words and I word Asia With Weevils

I keep fringe fire bodily physical writing and carnal Christina crosswriting     I keep my bones and body bonfires and I smear ash open body scripture     I make a more material Book: a material Book Who waterfall radical rivers radial round radius cut circle simultaneous     I myth Book simultaneous bone material cut circumfessions unfused flesh     I keep fringe fire unfused flesh jazz fusion     I produce desert materiel spray sphere prima materia     Desert sphere slice sheets of sound surplus materials     Desert slice sphere melody material: Taryn material mine matrix matte black canvas     Taryn tunnel material canvas corpse organs  (I listen to the song He Hit Me (And It Felt Like A Kiss) by The Crystals and I imagine Yahweh beating the shit out his prophets or Jesus the Son of Man – he hit me and I was glad)     I carve or crane desert canvas organs outer darkness

I draw desert     I draw time desert time desert     I drone draw desert detailed skull skip skull stones     I draw desert (this desert Who and this desert Taryn terrain)     Taryn twists triads savior of the twins     Who Taryn takes skull twins twine benjamin      Who Taryn twine trench trumpet regions draw regions rhizome apocalypses

(I think Taryn Who and Taryn What above and below     I chisel Taryn thrice-great emerald tablet     While I meditate and reinscribe this mystical Taryn and draw drones circles in her desert, I listen to songs from the Mount Eerie album Lost Wisdom Pt. 2 and although I have long abandoned any notion of a confessional poetry – although when bored of my own depression and suicidal ideation, I confess the most banal and boring thoughts completely deprived of any creative vigor - I still appreciate Phil Elverum’s spare but insightful and honest lyrics     I enjoy this line and lines:  “When I was younger and I didn’t know   I used to walk around basically begging the sky for some calamity to challenge my foundation…”     Someday  hope to confess an absolutely impossible confession, an unconditional confession, that transforms and destroys utterly demanding again transformation     I confess I don’t know how to hold these texts together but if I don't collect, transmit, and deconstruct these texts, I will die     I want to die but I don’t die because I would pain the ones I love, so I write in love and with love and towards love: unconditional confession and unconditional love)

I draw desert     I draw time desert Taryn time and her treasure of the field draws stone drone desert

What melody weds Taryn Word and Taryn Water     I word mouth water Taryn the wade glade no gods but what     I wed her What and Who subterranean bridal chamber     Taryn weds cave water mouth word and I weep her word to word waters     I water her melodies tree of knowledge

Taryn hinge Who word her desert west     Her west hinge word whip hell wed: wedded marriage of heaven and hell     I horse wild hell melodies and subterranean harmonies     I zebra wild babies melodic hell riptide boom town undertow     I tow Taryn ton word (a sixty ton angel falls to the earth   a pile of old metal, a radiant blur)

Taryn Who melody weds thunderwords through-composed melody     Taryn Who tows melody toward tonnage chroma pulses     Melody massacres melodies the wedded word gore Who

I gesture a generalizing tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes (For this work, John Cage employed subtractive techniques on two hymns by William Billings: Old North and Heath.  Each hymn is treated in this fashion for 5 iterations, resulting in 10 variations.  The subtractive techniques are similar to those John Cage used in Apartment House 1776 and Quartets I-VIII.  The composition makes use of only vowels sounds, which should be sung without vibrato.)

I gesture a generalizing tune     I hymn my flesh melodies fire fuguing tunes     I gesture a god melody or girl melody / I choreograph strange Christianities to John Cage (I admire John Cage and I approach an aleatoric John Cage     I read John Cage and a long time project springs to mind: use subtractive harmony on John Cage’s compositions or continually read, reread, steal, and apply aleatoric techniques to John Cage’s writings     I suddenly remember working as a writing tutor at my community college and I wrote mesostics generated from the words of the John Cage book Empty Words     I still have so much more room to experiment new in my writing, even if I used well-worn techniques from Dadaism, fluxus, Surrealism, and the New York School)

I gesture a girl god round dance and sacrifice of young girls     I gesture hymn hymnen khora hymen her helios     I gesture scissor schism / I act Taryn schismatic automatic heretics

I draw Taryn desert     I draw Taryn desert valley of drums (She shakes the drums other world subterranean)     I draw Taryn desert stone desert dark letter

I’d Much Prefer To Show Two Or Three Films At A Time

Rhizome rallies revolutions a fascination with surfaces, textures, and substances Rhizome rolls iron minimal and tungsten minimalism A minimal rhizome rolls red alchemy: my body boxes rubedo and ruddy peacock feathers My body drones feathered desert bronze and I tune metals microtonal / difference tones buzz boxers

A rubato rhizome slow rolls paper cigarettes Rhizome runs the sun free time and rhythm multidirectional Rhizome rings sun rhythm and noon rhythm and I syncopate alchemy open orbits Phill Niblock, when pressed to identify any possible overarching themes in his work, stated: The extension of time, particularly with the films… Book extends time and Book distorts heart time heartline multidirectional Book extends extension multidirectional desert deep time / time drone cave mouth open Time drone cave open mouth rhizome / extended time tunnel Taryn tunnel time tempt time temporary taser: Taryn trades time for time extend rhizome

Taryn suggested I write letters to Christina every day in a journal. Here’s the first attempt:

I know you’re not going to read until like 4 months from now but I was talking to my friend Violet about you. I said:

“I feel I should have married her even though we would have killed each other but at least we would be dead together… I’m not sure how can explain my relationship with her. It defies categories and I’m not ben without her.”

With more thought, I’m glad we didn’t kill each other. But I think it’s true the Kindred is beyond category and explanation. I am not ben without you. Not the best ben. I’m like a shadow ben waiting for Christina’s ben to come to me again.

It makes it hard to survive. I’m going to guess we both survive and I look forward to being the full ben with you again. I hope we’ll be proud of each other for surviving.

[I share my imaginary letter with Asia]
You should know you have helped develop and grow the best version of ben I know, I say to Asia. I can’t put into words the differences between me not feeling ben without Christina, but also feeling the best version of ben with you. It’s paradoxical and I hope you accept this paradox. Our friendship has been one of the most positive and transforming things in my life. I think although it’s not as obvious with you, I still feel it’s the same for your life. Does that make sense? Yes, that makes sense, says Asia. In ways, I think all relationships transform the people involved, she says. I think that’s true too, I say. I want you to know that I don’t take our friendship lightly and I feel it has irreversibly changed our lives for the better. It’s not a lesser relationship to Christina, but the same power and intensity; it just affects differently. That makes sense too, says Asia.

The extension of time, and particularly with the films. I’d much prefer to show two or three at a time, so you’re not looking at one film. It’s when you see three films and the different activity going on, it’s even more of a loss of a sense of time. The music is very much about that, about losing time, having no meter to it.

Jacques Derrida enjoyed proclaiming with every new book: All my work, all it’s ever been about is hospitality – all my work, all it’s ever been about is the gift – all my work, all it’s ever been about is friendship – likewise, I also proclaim all the Book has ever been about is God and Woman and the creation of the Book I proclaim all the Book has ever about is the disruption and distortion of a regular sense of time Book time punctures Book time Taryn tempest and Taryn Tetragrammaton from the whirlwind Book time pilots Book time boxer-puncher pulp pornographic (TERROR CREATURES FROM THE GRAVE They rise from their dark coffins in the dead of night to inflict an evil curse of doom, murdering their victims in an orgy of slaughter) Book time detours Book time tail détournement: Book time jams multidirectional psychogeography Book time improvises a ruby rubato geology contained in further strata of geographies

Book bricoleurs time strata multidirectional and I write multiple books simultaneously. I write a fragment-constellation anarchy; I write a surreal mytho-narrative; I write conversations with KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome, plus its metacommentary. Like Phill Niblock where one doesn't look at one film, reading the Book means reading a multiplicity of Books. The Book bares rhizome alchemy with its overdetermination of symbols and obscuring of images. I too, despise the multiplicity and both directions at once of the Book, let the Books invade and contaminate each other; I let the Books overdetermine and obscure each other. These occult obscurings mimic the parables of Jesus Christ.

Rhizome reinscribes revolutions a fascination with simultaneous rolling surfaces I dirty Book surfaces with Taryn textures tigers and holy spirit substances I reinscribe scripture rhizome scripture: I reinscribe scripture rhizome revival rubedo I scribble scripture rubato rhizome My scribbles do not blend in with the ground but dominate it

I scribble minimal drone and I scribble rubato rhizome / my scribbles do not blend in with the background but dominate it I dominate background desert drone and undifferentiated desert multidirectional I experiment with the desert and between the desert I experiment desert palimpsest and I scribble holy spirit alchemy no foreground no background

I scribble urground holy spirit and I scribble glossolalia rhythm: rhythm rubber canvas east and ash (east ease and dash mario kart double dash) Ease green and dash the green being born

I scribble birth green scribble birth brain green reinscribed scribbles Scribble scrape apocalypse apocalypse palimpsest I prepare the palimpsest krystal kecharitomene I play happen play the khora krystal kecharitomene Krystal carves cave mouth moth: she carves half bone char valley of the drums I beat polyrhythm valley of the drums desert palimpsest I beat we’re going to kill the California girls I carry bone char cave chisel / bear chisel valley of the drums chemicals

Desert drones palimpsest valley of the drums Drone desert drone palimpsest full of grace alchemy Desert add ann full of grace alchemy no foreground no background Alchemy full of grace jar no ground jar her ground Her ground full of grace generations generations (The World That Is Coming, who is Binah, the continuous source of emanation, who gives birth to the lower) Alchemy full of grace jumps gear grace: grace grinds up my body girls girls girls Grace grinds ben hinnom palimpsest ben plump girls girls girls

I place the palimpsest before me always-already Bible. I place the palimpsest before me always-already joyous scripture and scribbled scripture. Whatever I scribble arranges its own monolith stoned into scripture: whatever I scribble scratch open her skin scripture and her guts gospels. I adore this palimpsest and the palimpsest plays hip-hp narratives and nameless samples coagulates into my and Christina’s body bodies. I scribble the palimpsest of our imaginary married bodies and Christina Marie and Ben hinnom fuck scripture. We fuck stacked new myth and old myth both direction at once, and body-word wrecks language anarchic.

I think you would like the book “Braiding Sweatgrass”, says Asia. Tell me about this book, I say. There is a portion talking about her native language and how most of the words in the language are verbs, says Asia. [Asia sends me a few pages. I copy a few choice lines here: A bay is a noun only if water is dead. When bay is a noun, it is defined by humans, trapped between its shores, and contained by the word. But the verb wiikwegamaa – to be a bay – released the water from bondage and lets it live. “To be a bay” holds the wonder that, for a moment, the living water has decided to shelter itself between these shores, conversing with cedar roots, and a flock of baby mergansers. Because it could do otherwise – become a stream or an ocean or waterfall, and there are verbs for that too […] This is a grammar of animacy.]. These are pages are really fascinating, I say. Jorge Luis Borges in his short story “Tlön, Uqbar, Orbis Tertius” has an imagined society without nouns at all. Rather the language is formed as chained together adjectives and verbs. Instead of saying “moon” they would say “mooning over the horizon”. As a result, this imagined culture doesn't have a concept of authorship. Instead all feel they are working from the same book, authored by all of humanity, continually ongoing… I believe that part of the Book language and grammar is about an anarchic animist energy. The words are alive, the words are magical, they will transform you. They are acting. They are process theology, a divine influence passing over you that will break down your boundaries. I want to continue the process of ANARCHIC ALIVE INTERCONNECTED PARTICIPATION with your creative full participation in the Book. I hope you approve of the Book magic language and us making it, I say. I do approve, says Asia. I am also curious if it would be possible to turn English into a language of life instead of a language of barriers and ownership, she says.

The exact quotes from the Jorge Luis Borges short story:

There are no nouns in Tlön’s conjectural Urspache, from which the ‘present” languages and the dialectics are derived: there are impersonal verbs, modified by monosyllabic suffixes (or prefixes) with an adverbial value. […] “upward behind the onstreaming it mooned” […] They do not say “moon” but rather “round-airy-light on dark” or “pale-orange-of-the-sky” or any other such combination. […] It has been decided that all books are the work of a single author who is timeless and anonymous […] There fiction has but a single plot, with every imaginable permutation. Their works of a philosophical nature invariably contain both the thesis and anthithesis, the rigorous pro and contra of every argument. A book that does not contain its counterbook is considered incomplete…

I copy for obsessive exactness but also to rein / reign in my own inaccuracies and contradictions When I recite the permutations and combinations of her divine names, I encounter a ben animal and a ben woman to my own ben hinnom and ben adam, and we discuss in detail every possible permutation and imagined pathway of our Book labyrinth / our Book garden of forking paths In this desert doppelganger vision drone, I realize I of course do not author the book but only transmit the message and multidirectional gospels of KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome

Ghost alchemy full of grace jumps bare grace inflatable sex doll of the wastelands Ghost alchemy alley full of grace jump space space full of grace inflatable sex doll of the wastelands / double dutch wives of the wild Wild word work palimpsest insists inconsistent: word wild contradicts word wild knocks gnosis dutch wife desert twisted ironward

I scribble ghosts: Christina ghosts and ghost Christina I scribble ghosts the ground of ghosts gas god scribbles I scribble ghost ground grave gas god scribbles: I scribble rhythm rhizome I scribble rhizome rhythm glossolalia roller coaster lap bars I scribble glossolalia rhythm rhizome: rhythm rubble rublev canvas ease and dark Ease and dash dash the green weave born word I draw dash duster disintegrations / distributions of the emanation of the treasure

I continue to trace narrative, a series of revolutions and rhizomes. I trace narratives and repetitions, the rhizome drone of engine series. I hear engines on earth surfaces and I gravitate towards the grade grave granite. I grade grade gravity god narratives, and I find a multidirectional continuity-discontinuity in these narratives. I rhizome narrative run-off minimal drone drone verb (remember: verbs revive and revival verbs). I continue to narrate drone myth and myth mineral. I myth mineral anarchic.

I myth mineral anarchic: I anarchic all particles in the pile soon to reach nounal states I name noun gnosis exotic particles I name verb urgent verbs ground underneath My own hands distract My own hands distract all particles in the pile soon to reach nounal state / verb disrupts drones disrupts (Disrupts drones disrupts deserts shoreovers) (Disrupts deserts drones disrupt deserts) (ben-processes-becomings-body-without-organs)

My own hands distract drones drones deserts distract My own hands distract all particles in the pile play radioactives Hands distract all particles in the pile soon to reach nounal state / ontologies of flows and breaks My hands distract into flowing multiplicities and breaking multiplicities / my hands distract flows breakers multiplicities multiplicities mytheme mathematics

Hands distract all particles pistol an ontology of flows and breaks Hand ontologies ghost ostinato omnivore breaks and flows: flows free jazz flesh ejaculation Nounal states strike distract Bose-Einstein condensates Condense bodies: condense body without organs compact body without organs

My hands stumble clumsy through Christina’s body without organs. My hands clown ghost Christina and she tricks grave robbing a body without organs. My hands strum unsteady sonata-allegro and they escape soundscape Christina body without organs. Her ontologies breaker ben hinnom ghost ontologies. Awake, my hands distract into impossible ontologies; asleep my hands dream bodies without organs. Her body places her place all-place and no-place. Her hands coral my hands hand over verb over. Her verbs condense our bodies frozen alkahest chest pains pulse husk bodies. Her husks verbs hands verbs husks her. Her verbs condense compact explosives engine surface implosion (I listen to the song Malibu by Hole: Hey hey you know what to do oh baby rive away to Malibu Someday I will kidnap Christina and we will go to Antarctica or Malibu) (I will grave rob her body and bring her corpse with me to a Malibu beach)

The extension of time and particularly with the films, I’d much prefer to show two or three at a time, so you’re not looking at one film.

I follow the melodic rainbow line I follow the rainbow melody modes manipulated

(Conversations with Asia 08/18/2020 4:01 PM)
I have discovered that dip nail powder exists, says Asia. How does that work? I say. [Asia sends me two video links, one entitled “DIY Manicure w/ dip powder and gel polish” and “How to do dip nails at home!”] Nails are so involved, I say. But so shiny, says Asia. Plus they last two weeks. People put more effort in their make up that lasts one day. How many layers of primer and basecoat do you do for your nails? One. Very involved, I say. It’s fashion, says Asia. I bought some nail powder as an early birthday present. Wonderful! So from what I can tell in the videos, it mainly strengthens the nails? Yeah, it looks like it, says Asia. I’ve never done it. I have also never been to a nail salon before. You live on the edge. I do, says Asia.

It’s when you see three films and the different activity going on, it’s even more of a loss of a sense of time.

I follow the melodic rainbow line I follow the rainbow melody model hoard nail polish and nail gel

I follow nail gun melodies and nail gel crucifixions I make three films for three crucifixions, each polished pilot nail shells and glitters

Follow hollow nail glade grass glass / three figures at the base of the crucifixion match cut three films synchronized to three crucifixions gamma golgotha

I follow the melodic rainbow line Melodies middle music metals metals models I model melodies metro modes chemical church modes I explore modes medium median longa marginalia Modes exude etudes longitudinal exudate Modes more metal mettle kettle call cauldron (when a stranger calls musical horror)

The Open Book Mourns Phill Niblock

I write the Open Book and the Book open revelation unveils One Book, the Book written since the beginning of humanity, which is to say, the bereshit of the god and gods itself I write the Open Book one and one: I witness the Open Book, one child of humanity and one child of humanity Her humanity opens one Book and one human body: a god body the glow of television guts old god telescope her guts open book Open Book one stethoscope and one kaleidoscope light scatter her heather Her heather grows book leather light human I hint the human of the light book horror hamlet

I wind through Open Book wyvern and Book one wind-up bird I wind up one Book, her Book bar heather birds bound leather laurels and leaves of grass Grass grows her gods heather hover leaves light interleaved lights I interleave Book one Book light liquid

I wind Book wire liquid light: she lights the lights child of humanity I open Book barbed wire and razor wire: I open Book barbed wire Taryn barbie blonde Taryn barbecues one Book holy ghost smoke snow snorkel sounds Book sounds open smoke twee-tone row rhizome Book sounds one and one squid snow and octopus rain

Book rewinds sound surrounds remix Book rewinds or reminds loud sound liquid sleet tendril surfaces Book tendril hesitate haste hours egg showers Book rewinds her Book bone hone heather Book

Book winds Book one woman son of man (Listen. There’s only one woman in the world. One woman with many faces. This one falls, the next one rises.)

I write and witness one Book. I write and witness one Book and Open Book writes and rewrites one human. Book writes upon me the human woman and the woman animal. My skin scripture stripes Krystal crucifixions and Taryn cuts into my belly a marsupial pouch. Book inscribes a body violence, split ben and ben hinnom hot helios. I bare a scripture violence and violence hot narrative. Book open archives one narrative and all narratives: the revelation of her names. Her names speak more names and her names speak one narrative one Book one Woman. Her names inscribe the Human. The Book narrative names and renames through her names and her Book heather blades one ben body and one ben hinnom violence.

Book open twins Book open kingdom of the skies Book miniskirt Book open hiss hook from through open heavens / her heaven name and names kingdom of skies Book writes rewind and remix creative kingdom of the skies Book rewrites and remixes radiomen river rivers creative heavens I remix rhizome upstream in red canoes the salmon rivers

I narrate open I name open offspring osprey sea spray spur spirit I river myth open often echoes: echoed body abyss

I myth river rose smoke spreads out on water I myth mystical rose smoke spreads spartan sprawl bonesaw butchered salmon blood

Open abyss ambushed waters, the bending and straightening out woman bow and wheel

I river open abyss and I attempt to explore abyss and bottomless pit. Book opens bottomless pit and rose smoke vine smoke nightshade pours into the sky and skies. Skies snarl muskets, husks, and machine gun rattlers. I river open human body canoe and I ambush Book blood waters. I ambush broad Book baptized in blood. Blood demands the sacrificed performed by blood experiments. I experiment my body beetles a bloody narrative and I narrative one Book woman and human. I narrate one human myth, Ben Adam and KRYSXTRYN + Asia Within Weevils. Book beetles ambush black canvas: Christina cast iron or iron ingot girl language.

Abyss ambushes waters Book abyss ambushes watering word sword word worship I wade Book abyss and her waters bend and straighten out woman bow and wheel Woman bow rudder round red Woman bow huddles rudder cloud red: rhizome red cloud rib bloodclots blood caught clot hot rod I hot rod and circuit break Book / barracuda abyss experiment and excrement I hot rod blood moon and spark other solar bodies: moon penetrates chariot desert / desert thieves

I bare moon body and I cling to the sun I cling to sun and I cling to fire: I cling to mysterious sun and I cling to mysterious fire Fires transform no transitions but only the Taryn Terra of Book and Blood

Phill Niblock passed away (Niblock was climbing a grade behind a slow moving truck when the revolution of both vehicles’ engines nearly synchronized. “The strong physical pressure of the beats resulting from the two engines at slightly different frequencies put me in such a trance that I nearly rode off the side of the mountain.”)

In desert – this Book desert and Book earth exile and diaspora – drones towards a death Desert drones my death and future suicide (Asia has much faith in me and believes I will survive my bouts of mental illness and suicidal ideation; she remains a wonderful friend) Desert drones the simultaneous minimal death and maximal death, and death mingles material blood hut open Book Death drones simultaneous and sensual suicides and I swim abyssal suicide secret desert Death drone body with organs moan secret gospels Death drips bloody desert palimpsest sex rust locusts

World wildcat locusts cat collect / cute body archive and shell collection Shell collects hell palimpsest slower and human organs (Steel wool scrubs organs awefull desert) Collections cannibal quick quavers cut collections Collections cricket cabin in the woods woman big body war Woman wears sun big body body ball python neighborhood ball body neighborhoods

I neighbor desert drone and my body balls laundry palimpsest

Neighborhoods hell the blossoms and patriarchs and behold, hell neighborhood Behold and beware neighborhood last house on the left Neighbor hell the blossoms as patriarchs and I enter Divine Mind and the World That Is To Come I enter my neighborhood death slick sick drone suicides

I prepare the palimpsest Krystal Kecharitomene I pare and play Khora Krystal Kecharitomene out cave mouth I pair out cave mouth carve bone char valley of the drums chemicals / full of grace alchemy Alchemy full of grace for the grace no ground by her ground Her ground generations generations (The World That Is coming, who is Binah, the continuous source of emanation, who gives birth to the lower)

Her ground generations generations drones desert Ground drones desert new desert jut gut geologies (Niblock made music from drones, microtones, and instruments such as cellos, bagpipes, hurdy-gurdies, and more. He remains best known for the sparse sounds he produced, but he also amassed a formidable oeuvre of photography, films, and video.) I drone her generations of her palimpsest punk hardcore blood clot rose-and-wheel-axle

I meander microtones homophones Krystal heterotopia

Sparse space speed against space and I film sparse generations generations girl gods I film sparse gethsemane

Rhizome valleys revolutions a fascination with surfaces, textures, and substances My scribbles do not blend with the ground but dominate it

(Conversations With Asia 08/28/2020)
I hope you feel better and dress like Aladdin Sane from David Bowie today, I say. I had a teal vintage style sweater, brown high-waisted pants, and an ascot, says Asia. You know what I think of when I think of an ascot? I say. And the only reason I know what an ascot is? Fred from Scooby Doo, says Asia. Yes! He had a look though, she says. He did. That whole team was styling, she says. Velma is my fav. Dudes have a fetish for Velma for whatever reason, I say. That’s weird – she clearly isn’t into dudes. Wait, are you saying she’s a lesbian? Yes, says Asia. Women are prettier than dudes for the most part so I don’t blame her. Sad but true, says Asia. Too bad I am afraid of pretty people. What, really? If that’s the case, you’d be afraid of me! Why afraid of pretty people? I’m partly joking, says Asia, but when I see someone gorgeous, a lot of times, I won’t talk to them and if a guy is too handsome and well-dressed, I don’t trust them. The last one is because he is probably self-absorbed and I’m not about that. The first one is because my brain shuts down. I think it’s not a bad as is used to be but I used to get really self-conscious around attractive people, says Asia.

I drone death a handsome and suspicious motherfucker I drone death drop dead gorgeous woman and ghost Christina devours death Ghost Christina dreams death and her dreams devour death death Death drones dastardly whiplash handsome horror motherfucker and death fangs first fire Christina ferocious

Death dashes Scooby Doo doors and human haunted hallways Death drives the grade telephone tabetha guts and guts revolve engine belt ben hinnom

I insect revolutions revolt wild Asia With Weevils

Insects ignite death engines skateboard impossible and insects improvise eye eye inside socket hocket

Book climbs grade (gut grade girl grade gut grade) and multiple engines revolve revolver sound visions Book climbs grade leaves of grass glass cask corridor

I love Phill Niblock and although it may not seem as if my aesthetic and approach has much to do with minimalism, its fruit and experiments have influenced me and my creativity profoundly. I feel I work with such little material: I use the same themes constantly and revisit them again and again from hopefully anew and surprising perspectives. I do work as a palimpsest and my palimpsest involves the collision and superimposition of minimal materials. My themes: the women in my life, the apophatic divine, anarchic art, and art making. I pick the themes and the materials – usually a short phrase or idea from another text – and I let the engines go. Steve Reich stated in his famous essay “Music As A Gradual Process”: “I am interested in perceptible processes. I want to be able to hear the process happening throughout the sounding music.” I too try to write a transparent process, an alive and living process, a process that allows itself to improvise and open spontaneously, and find joy and wonder in the resulting patterns. I let the texts create texts out of their own engines and intuitions; I only exist to document and archive them. Phill Niblock inspires me through his use of microtonal drones and slowly shifting beat patterns / beat interferences and combining them with film and photography. A long-term project – a long-term experiment – would be to illustrate, to photograph, and to film the Book. I would like to make the Book into performances and art installations and sound / music.

Niblock, ever eager to defy categorization, preferred the terms “composer” and “intermedia artist” and stated that he saw conceptual through-lines across his work in various mediums.

I make art; I dream visions; I prophesy scripture and gospel I make anarchic art; I see visions underground; I prophesy her scripture and her gospel I make art apocalypses; I seer visions subterranean; I prophesy the passion of KRYSXTRYN + Asia With Weevils

I always prophesy and I always-already prophesy: sometimes I prophesy my own death and crucifixion I carry teh cross and follow her death drone desert I prophesy rhizome and palimpsest, and rhizome rallies revolutions a fascination with surfaces, textures, and substances I prepare palimpsest revolutions as potent potions I prepare palimpsest blood pulses and broader body pulses Palimpsest pink spam bottomless pit and I prophesy pit pine line lime minim cut minimum I work minimum: minimum monastery and minimum magic

Palimpsest prophesies pink laser nitroglycerin Palimpsest prophesies pink laser bottomless pit pathogens: black canvas black plague Palimpsest pink tar pit pitch bottomless pit / python intermedia (I machine minimalism and I factory fluxus Fluxus fills mirror maze haze hazard I happen filling)

I Prepare The Palimpsest As Scraped Earth Rhizome Language

content warning: extended discussion of suicide, suicidal ideation, and depression

Ben, be careful at your work for it is Her work: if you leave out but one letter or write one letter too many, you destroy the entire world

Christina rescue in ghost rhythms and ghost letters Christina repeat robust ghost letters and ghost world: her abandoned world rewrites world world superimposed her words

Christina not careful kiss allworld crisis an allwhen wins Christina cut not careful but kiss deadly nightshade: Christina cut nightshade lighthouse body horror (The nude mutilated bodies of eight missing girls, each found hanging from a tree, her throat slashed. A mind-blowing story of satanic evil and demonic power. It will make your blood run cold. THE NAKED WITCH)

Christina not careful bewitch Christina witch not careful but cut across bodies ghost languages (Yeah, that was good too. The whole record was good. But that one song “Devil Got My Woman”, I mostly kept playing that over and over. Do you have any other records like that? There are no other records like that.) Devil got my woman; Devil got Christina but she fucking devours She devours devoured devil the devil volley face (her intestinal villi impale devils absorb demons) I”d rather be the devil than be that woman man

Ben, be careful with your work, but Christina crash witch witch word the entire world destroyed Christina chomp skull scope this language and Christina catches her own ghosts (Christina arrives witch absence and she resides in my skull rhizome arachnids: spirit legs, revenant thorax, autophilia abdomen)

Ben, be careful but Christina creep meat moss melted candy ghosts (I laid down last night, tried to take my rest got mind go to ramblin’ like wild geese from the west from the west) Christina wears wild ghost geese / Christina the cross uncanny Christina meanders the strange edge of human phenomenon, and she enters uncanny ghost and she exits uncanny ghost Her absence still frequently appears to me ghostly, an accumulating series of Marian apparitions Her ghost or apparition avalanche larger amplitude big apocalypse

The apocalyptic palimpsest invades my brain an eerie Christina ghost (Teo Macero invades my membrane and I sculpt text from hours of rough jams long language)

Christina frequently appears to me as absences and the absences rewind me to the absence of God. She exists as a paradoxical present absence, the call of the Eloi Eloi Lema Sabacthani by Christ on the Cross. I chant a polyphonic my god my god why have you forsaken me; I improvise florid counterpoint to the lament bass named Christina. Christina still naked impresses her absence on the text, on the very Book. I still worship Christina's word and weird and her invisible faces flash nude page: her apocalyptic palimpsest. I know her ghosts as her ghosts: I know her ghosts like book body horror hauntologies. Her weird ghosts cry wild Eloi Eloi Lema Sabacthani.

Christina disguised as Teo Macero invades my brain and I sculpt immaterial texts from horror hours My body rough rough jams long language lost I listen long language her lost host her word I listen long language duplex longa verb desert Her verb desert body rubble bolt salt soda pop language Language pop soda stone bake body verb her: her verb ghost Christina Her verb body vowel versions viscous vellum invade membranes brawl palimpsest

I prepare the palimpsest as a scraped earth rhizome language. I prepare the palimpsest as an alchemical pumice or obsidian ouroboros. Narrative plays palimpsest stretch palimpsest and palimpsest stinks palimpsest (Christina’s ghost body secretly decays in the empty tomb). I soak the prepared piano palimpsest in my blood and pus, and its imaginary pages fill ink white mass peacock feathers. Palimpsest propeller pulses horror punk splashes, and harsh melody encodes the cryptographic hash. The palimpsest encodes the narrative multiply and narrative white mass piano sonata. Piano performs prepared piano as wire palimpsests.

I word palimpsest splatterpunk (DIVINE MISTRESS a novel of love and torture, and a doctors search for truth in the days of the Spanish Inquisition) I word palimpsest splatterpunk wildcat woman Palimpsest wilderness whip woman washing machine metamorphosis I live washing machine blues UFO lights live hive machine Washing machine hypnosis torpedo washing machine metamorphosis (I molt my machine wash only exoskeleton) Whip woman machine metamorphic granite not granite but upper and lower nile

Did you have any thoughts on my writing? I ask Jamie. Vigilante angels practice hamon line alchemy, he says. I don’t know a lot about modernist or postmodernist poetry, but I like it. I like the rhythm of floating in and out of cohesion or linearity. Some strong lines. It’s like idea disassembles in front of you and the idea is cool to me. I kind of get a William Gibson feel from it. Like not that it has anything to do with him or his writing but the feeling I get of data structures adjoining or re-querying makes me think of him, he says. Could you elaborate more on the thought “it’s like idea disassembles in front of you?”, I say. You have statements, right, that lead to single word evaluations. Like we’re reducing to the smallest element of the statement to analyze its core. Some repeat and lead it different iterations. Like we’re exploring the idea through dissection. That makes sense, I say. I like that analysis. Would it be OK if I incorporated your analysis into my work? Absolutely, he says. I was telling my friend Asia – who appears in my work often – that I had a friend who read my work for the first time and describe it as kind of cubist multiple perspectives at once kind of writing. I interpreted what you said a cubist approach, I say.

I careful my work and I create worlds and destroy worlds through letters: the transgressive Sabbath of the letters: the transgressive sabbath of the letters and the antinomian writings of the letters I careful my work large lager letters and small salamander letters I lengthen larger letters legerdemain cursive slate serpents (successive utterances of the divine names produce the four worlds and four words / Taryn Tetractys)

I write Open Book and Open Heavens I riptide rhizome Open Book into and onto Open Heavens Asia Among Rivers rap ripieno open book from through open heavens Write witch stone creative heaven and I come upstream in the red canoes salmon

I open the book and Christina still resides between the spine, thread and glue This sometimes surreptitious suicide resides in my spine latent tapeworm latex I study suicides and suicide opens and closes the Book (I wish I could write songs about anything other than death, sings Julien Baker) I have felt intensely bipolar and these intensities (these intense rays strata rhizomes rock hocket) flood mud mad hatter fleshes Christina sticks in my flesh a bee stinger or engorged tick, and her teeth ghouls feeding on my blood Suicide bores and it inks terrible tedium, a long scrawl tetragrammaton Yet suicide seduces a long tendril splash orgasm, an orgiastic creative death Death exudes a rhizome real, my ben hinnom valley cut body without organs I study suicides split Christina torture spirits (to write my suicide as an interesting and creative performance To archive my suicide beginning middle and Book) (Not a subtle suicide but an absurd theater and graphic violence cinema) (He didn't see himself as human; he saw himself as a creature from another world. He said he had many visions that his blood had frozen in his veins, that he was dead. That is the reason he took that name. He knew he would die.)

I miss Christina and I wish to die without Christina I miss Christina but I word palimpsest splatterpunk wildcat woman Woman wild mash wind-up mechanical watch or odd work / Jack of all trades lily rosemary and the jack of hearts

I word raw whip palimpsest rhizome I word splatter nonsense or anywhen word verse word Her worse wildcast Christina cross coraline busy signal at suicide hotline I word splatter-punk suicide bodies Christina body without organs Her non-organs cell saw ghosts soda pop horror (Her horror hobbles to me music box pop goes to the weasel)

I word raw whip palimpsest Her word whip raw strip skin hen to pan summer evening suicide I word soup animal mall organism (an organism has conscious mental states if and only if there is something that it is like to be that organism) I sup word Christina last supper: supper shades palimpsest eucharist

Palimpsest incest scratches insets etched if earth etchings

Palimpsest insists on immediate suicide and suicides but my suicides occur in inconsistent termite fragments I kiss suicide punches with Christina fangs

Palimpsest incest scratches insects etched if earth etchings Palimpsest candle wick wildcat woman breve bereshit (I begin and end with the strata of my suicides I needle language middle suicide bereshit and blessing) (I just… I just don’t understand! Why did he kill himself? Why was he walking along the tracks? It just goes around and around in my head. Why do you think he did it? … The sea has the power to beguile. Back when Dad was fishing, he once saw a maborosi – a strange light – far out to sea. Something it was beckoning to him, he said… It happens to all of us.)

I don’t know why suicide – not completely, I mean. I have lived with this mental illness, with anxiety and bipolar disorder for more than half of my life and that certainly plays a significant role. I feel an intensity and frequent anguish within my head that feels impossible to communicate with others: Christina understood it, but Taryn and Asia do not. So difficult, to live in the absence of Christina: her not-here pervades most of my waking moments. Christina not-here scratches hatch patchwork ben skull palimpsest. The quotation from the movie by Hirokazu Kore-eda from the film Maborosi in the paragraph before – its text sluices suicide mystery and honey sweet mystery, and I too feel the seduction of suicide and my future death bewilders and beckons. Sometimes in my future death I see Christina. I imagine we have a suicide pact together and we enact a radical death, a sensual seductive pair of suicides like a dead man’s hand. I sleep in the long sword of suicides and I don’t understand why either. I just continue walking on the tracks. The sea calls to me: her sea calls to me.

Palimpsest insects snack human skin scripture Palimpsest sex insects scratch etched if earth etchings I like if etch splatterpunk I etch earth splatterpunk the sea has the power to beguile I sign sea beguiles body without organs door hinge hatch egg acid

Would you care if I died? I say. Do you think my friendship with you is a bad thing in your life? Do you think you’d be better without my friendship in your life? Yes, I will care, says Asia. I have answered this question multiple times and the answer hasn’t changed. You can’t assume that I don’t care just because I don’t respond for a few fucking minutes. No, I don't think your friendship is bad. I enjoy your friendship. That is why I’m your friend, she says. The answer can change though, I say. That’s why I asked. Have I said or done anything to make you think it changed? Says Asia. My actions change, I say. That is what is changing. It doesn't have anything to do with what you say or do. It has to do with what I say and do. But mine haven’t, says Asia.

I realize something in my writing about my suicidal ideation and writing my friendship with Asia: my friendship with her – our friendship, the Ben and Asia friendship – makes it difficult to die. The level of unconditional care and unconditional love we have for each other astounds me, and our friendship makes a more effective antisuicide treatment than lithium

Palimpsest incest scratches insects etched if earth etchings Palimpsest candle wick wildcat woman breve bereshit: I bow bereshit break bit-off bitumen butte semibreve bark rhizome Palimpsest tar pit pitch bottomless pit line lime minum cut minimum

I write Open Book palimpsest and Open Sky palimpsest

I Work Her Letters To Break Up The Space Differently

The matrix of all earthly phenomena unfolds as a network of coordinates and fractions and multiples

Matrix machines figure with meat: matrix distills a philosophical mercury and pours the quicksilver over my queer body. Ben bodies bathe in mercury matrix body without organs. Matrix machines body archive and archival bodies pulse angles and angle grinder gods. Archival bodies grind the molten matrix of libraries. Archive bodies pulse angels and anglers gut grindcore distortions. I meet matrix figure with meat and I bisect my body into two books and two hooks, and the books hocket matrix bodies. Matrix nests and itself becomes its desert distilled mercury and I drink the mercurial desert matrix as radioactive quackery, and my jaw develops pockets of pus.

Matrix as earth hangs car and disturbing crucifixions I compose crucifixion in bone matrix and bone bath Earth matrix unfolds melodic actions and acts harmony unearth earth Matrix earth riots night train and space field: my field body unfolds blade fuller My field body unfolds fresh meat and the flesh meat recalls the lavish arrangements of fruits, meats, and confections of 17th century vanitas paintings

My body unfolds blade fuller full the bisects halves of a cow

Taryn ten ten Taryn tomorrow train terminal Taryn long tone terminal divines the chord pantonal (Ellen Fullman’s Long String Instrument tunes tenor tabletop games in just intonation I rub strings with rosined hands and produce longitudinal vibrations: vibrating map slipping vibrating map)

Taryn ten ten fingers fuller space field floating point tonalities Taryn ten new tonalities: Taryn ten tune ton ten tonalities in deserts Her matrix mixes tonalities Taryn sonata or sonatine

I listen to longer vibrational musics and I listen the longer longitudinal musics: these musics tine Taryn trine copper mine emerges Taryn matrix minerals Her musics mer matrix mar car call chaconne matrix musics I listen to a mercury music and a matrix music and I repeat the music fragments late Morton Feldman

I listen to an industrial music and a suburb hubcap haunted house ambiance I imitate melody mode ten dream industry I mean or mode imitative melody and I dream imitation imitative melody and I dream imitation initiation industries I idle industry imitation big bomb blonde Edmond Honda thousand slaps In immediate industry I get up and eat excessively I eat excess earth industry and I dream matrix Matrix meter maximum city of industry

The verb of the matrix myth Taryn music Three verbs in my mouth between my teeth teeter industry Verb herd earth matrix night train Taryn Verbs bus Taryn music rubber neon lead looser lights liminal / I draw her dreams on water I draw Taryn water drift vision melted verb paper sculpture Taryn paper music

Matrix musics match hack matrix figure with meat Meat blurs ben body borrowed bodies deformed Matrix deforms blue desert glassbox torture chamber Matrix strata strews stone Taryn sonata and sonatine I repeat matrix sonata-allegro act tonalities repeat tonal matrix

Repeat verb matrix tone clusters

Repeat cluster body matrix meat body without organs / I repeat the verb verb and I repeat the matrix matrix. I experiment the verb s vision wormhole or tipler cylinder. I repeat the rotating infinite cylinder and I traverse the center cylinder matrix sonatas. I repeat the verb verb narrative music and music myth. The music narrative repeats matrix: music narrative repeats figure with meat. Matrix repetition match rhizome matrix and I make matrix into multiple verbs.

Verb forest architecture form forest Verb first forest matrix architecture form forest Verb first forge forest matrix architecture matrix fire form forest

Verb revives Book forest fierce matrix architecture Verb revives Book of leaves of grass stalk verb matrices myth narratives I narrate verb forest forum irregular architecture irregular conjugates Forest verb narrates form forms float formless armageddon / architecture matrix manipulates apocalypse Verb forest flowers Taryn blade fuller serpent apocalypse

Multiple matrices act multiple matrices Multiple matrices meat Taryn ten fingers new ten tonalities Pantonal Taryn coordiantes twelve-tone row Taryn matrix Taryn scratches matrix tonalities I tune hues Taryn tonality of the deserts

I look a certain slant of light and her light torches multiple matrix narrative. I look for the narrative she lights the lights but also her speech which spills sonata spirit. I admit a difficulty trying to integrate anarchic fragment-constellations, myth narrative, and the conversations I have with Asia, Taryn, Krystal and Ghost Christina. I either imagine myself as Igor Stravinsky’s Symphonies for Wind Instruments and I juxtapose anarchic fragments against narrative, no transition. Similarly, I work like that great juxtapose Olivier Messiaen. At other times, I desire control and complete syntactical and semantic integration of my developing variations like Pierre Boulez’s Le Marta sans maitre: all transition, all development, even if it’s a mystery to everyone but the composer. The fragment floats in my brain like ant antennae and I feel my way through the earth in the sentence fragment. I’m a brutish monolingual: I’m only a polyglot in the Finnegans Wake sense, thunderwords in a dream.

James Turrell, Dividing the Light. 2007. Dividing the Light gathers visitors in benches beneath a canopy that frames a window to the sky. At dusk and dawn a lighting program bathes the canopy in changing colors, from goldenrod to turquoise, altering the viewer’s perception of the sky. One moment it’s a dreamy lavender, another it’s a ominous table of black. A shallow pool center beneath the opening to the sky mirrors the daytime sky and reflects a dark echo f the night sky… That sounds really cool, says Asia. It goes to show you can never exhaust art, I say. There's always more mediums, more ways to explore. Art is never dead, I say. Stuff like that shouldn’t just be in art museums, says Asia. It should be in bus stops and libraries and schools. Soup kitchens. Public parks. We should be enriching our public spaces and not putting art behind a paywall, she says. Yes, you are 100 percent right, I say. Art is life and life is art. It’s human and we need to make art as community. Not think of ourselves as not artists. This is what I’m talking about when I say I am doing creative anarchy: this communal art aspect, this community art aspect, where it’s available for everyone to participate in, observe, and enjoy, I say. I hate so many public structures are ugly, says Asia. Like schools. Not just ugly: they feel and look like prison. The prison feel is on purpose, I say. Same with why military barracks look like that. It’s to train bodies and discipline them. I agree, says Asia. Art invites questions, I say. Art invites independent participation. It’s contrary to the prison-school, I say. So we change our physical structures while also shifting the non-physical ones, says Asia.

Desert matrix detours Taryn figure with meat desert midnight meat train Matrix as desert multiples paints matte meat Taryn tomorrow train terminal Taryn as a flock of arctic terns migrates over the matrix and it teems undifferentiated nude Taryn bodies Taryn teems bodies matrix bodies verb and she possesses the verb language

The visible world with its teeming creatures, is none other than the word transpired: all things arise out of the combinations and rearrangements of the letters

I slice blood visible the matrix of the letters I slice high hole whole blood teeming with platelets, plasma, and red blood cell pornographic bodies I slice letters longitudinal tone clusters and crisp bacon clymenestra Slit eye surreal myth marbled figure with meat

Letters light mystery Letters light mystery first mystery and last mystery and the twenty-fourth mystery (twenty-four hours to go I want to be sedated)

Lepidopterous letters wing word and word membrane of mystery Letters leap sermon: letters leak sermon lesser lights and greater lights Letter lithograph simultaneous combinations combination station of the cross Letters line low lavender greater lights sponge speed Sponge speed light letters coral filament or air-conditioner filter Letters roll verb using art objects / my ugly writing pulsed pimple pus from the bruised purple craters of my face

There’s a difference between boring ugly and interesting ugly, I say. Schools and prisons and office spaces are ugly boring. Interesting ugly is like those steel monstrosities by Richard Serra. I don’t think they are pretty sculptures but they are interesting. They break up the space differently. School space is uniform space, boring space, unadorned space. The right type of ugly can change the mind too. Richard Serra in the 1960s and 1970s did a whole group of sculptures based on verbs. Verbs like “to prop” and “to splash” were made into sculptures. (Another pivotal moment for Serra occurred in 1969 when he was commissioned by the artist Jasper Johns to make a splash piece in John’s studio. While Serra heated the plates to splash against the wall, he took one of the large plates and set it in the corner where it stood on its own. Serra’s break into space followed shortly after with the sculptures Strike: To Roberta and Rudy (1969-71). Serra wedged an 8 by 24-foot plate of steel into a corner and divided the room into two equal spaces. The work invited the viewer to walk around the sculpture, shifting the viewer's perception of the room as they walked. Around that time Serra wrote Verb List (1967), a list of transitive verbs (e.g. cast, roll, tear, prop, etc) which he used as directions for his sculptures. To Lift (1967) and Thirty-Five Feat of Lead Rolled Up (1968), Splash Piece (1968) and Casting (1969) were some of the action-based works with origins in the verb list. Serra used lead in many of his constructs because of its adaptability. Lead is malleable enough to be rolled, folded, ripped, and melted.) I think the results are aesthetically ugly to me, but I find it invites me into the process: I am interested in the process and that process inspires me. It inspires me to be OK making ugly things if it causes a change in perception. I get really obsessed with making my writing BEAUTIFUL, not realizing it sometimes traps me in the limitations of my own making, I say. Kids love ugly art, says Asia, so I think it could work for schools, especially if it was done in a fun absurd way, she says. I need to change my perceptions on ugly, I say. I’m too concerned with consonance in my writing but enough dissonance.

Verb resolves verb and I perform verb violent action I act verb and Teo Macero invades my membrane I act Teo Macero machine verb matrix and I sculpt text from hours of rough jams long language I listen verb long language duplex longa verb desert Verb body desert bolt salt soda pop language / pop soap bake body verb Versions viscous vellum invade membranes brawl palimpsest

Verb letters resolve verb letters her desert door hinge

I glue verb to verb and I stack the verbs verbum and logos. I glue slut logos verb verbum harlot and its sex plays mascara happening and lipstick shamanism. The animist verb valley spirits letters and cicada animation accumulations. I glue the verb collection into and onto the verb collection, and its archive usurps lepidopterous letters logos. When me they fly I am the wings and I whirlwind new verbs and new combinations of previously verbs.

Ben, be careful at your work for it is her work; if you leave out but one letter or write one letter too many, you destroy the world.

I careful my work and I create worlds and destroy worlds through letters: the sayings of the letters and the writings of the letters I careful my work large letters and small letters legerdemain magick cursive slate serpents (successive utterance of the divine names produce the four worlds / Taryn Tetractys)

Repeat verb matrix tone clusters and cluster the letters Her letters cluster her work at your work