I make a mirror I make a mirror face-to-face I make a mirror face-to-face with her forest I face her forest and her field mirrors my face Forest mirrors pretty polyrhythm schism and pretty how town
I make a mirror I move mere mention I move stone moor more mere mention (her mirror moves meteor manipulation) Her meteor here I wake up mirror I mirror and I make and wake mirror mere mast or bronze casting I move mirrors more waters water more water mara scar wave invisible More material material mirror sand work Sand sorts mirrors Sand sorts monuments and mirror more momentum: mere momentum slings middle and meddle language Mirror stings dream tonal stones Stone mirror stone sounds tonal eccentric flint canoe with passengers
I look at the mirror as a meteor. My face mingles with iron. I move toward the mirror and it strikes my face as a meteorite. My face fuses with the iron (staring at this Parisian sex flick where the characters don’t meet, the characters don’t speak, and the characters are like mirrors facing mirrors: space always expanding). I look at a photograph of Christina or her mirror and I see my face expanding into space. I move towards her mirror, Christina’s mirror, and I only see my face.
(And she went and did according to the saying of Elijah: and she, and he, and her house, did eat many days) I say stray earth structure, she with he her metal earth: memetic earth hermetic work (People frequently ask me what my definition of music is. This is it. It is work.) I work mirror written rewritten mirror earth Mirror earth moon mirrors metal metal metallic (I look mirror mirror shellac or shaker I look metallic medicine cabinet copycat plexiglass)
I make mirrors I make mirrors mere motion
I Want Dinosaurs All The Time
I further forest fragment face-to-face / forest furthers fragment face-to-face
Forest future float further forest: forest futures floats further forests forests (Forests multiplicities fragments fragments) Forest future float further forest my fractured spinal column
Future forest furthers future forests (I further my feel for these fragments and I float flush with forest languages) Future forest furthers future forest not a disjunct forest but shares forest furniture
Forest future float further forest my fractured spinal column City columns cling cord crisp cookie cutter shark morning Not disjunct forests but further forests shared furnitures (as soon as someone dies, frenzied construction of the future shifting furniture, etc: futuromania)
A forest futuromania meteors manic: an iron chair fragment, a steel chair leg, a brass basin bottom I scavenge forests for further metals
I find fragments in the forest and I further forest fragments face-to-face. I find fragments in forests. I find fragments in the forest and fragments time travel past and future. Future forest fragments send apocalyptic transmissions dreamward (You are receiving this broadcast in order to alter the events you are seeing You are seeing what is actually occurring for the purpose of causality violation). The future of the forest is the future of the fragment. Whether I name them fragments or patterns, they extend far into the future. I extend future by extending forest fragments.
Future forest floats peacock feathers and feathers tickle my fractured spinal column (I listen here a new city in the future and Christina eavesdrops on an old wire or crystal radio Here, here it is, the places where you lived, the place where you rose transparent a ghost) Future forest floats fragments fashion further blown ash I catch ash forest passages and I pursue passages into the future
I pursue forest passages into the future and I make future mirror
I make a mirror fragment I make a mirror forest fragment further into field Forest field mirror mirror passages schism polyrhythm Forest mirrors fugues with fragments and the melodic cells mirror polyrhythm and text passacaglia
I pursue passages and I prepare text fragments as passacaglia. The text passacaglia grounds my grammar even as it disintegrates in language experiments. I pursue passages through the forest and even routine fragments reveal undiscovered Christina ghosts or Asia conversations. Passages spiral into the forest labyrinth and I treat the walls as a lydian fugue and a catholic mass in mixolydian. A lydian forest punches firefly lights into the future.
I love dinosaurs, I say. I want dinosaurs all the time. Dinosaurs are cool, says Asia. Do you have some dinosaurs you like a lot? I say. As a kid I always thought Utah Raptor was super cool, I say. I think dinosaurs are cool but I’m not very good at remembering their names, says Asia. I liked the very tall long necked ones as a kid. Brachiosaurus, I think. Sauropods, says Asia. Next time when you’re at a museum, just ask them, I say. George, Bob, John. Brachiosaurus is cool, I say. I particularly like prehistoric plants, says Asia, and how vastly different ecosystems were then how we think of them. Like how grass is relatively new and that ground covering was mostly ferns. My favorite part of the Jurassic Park exhibit we went to were the bits about the plants. Apparently fern savannas were a thing. Lots of dinosaurs are cool though, she says. How come grass is relatively new? I say. Do you know what made ferns so advantageous during that time? If I were to take a guess, says Asia. I’m not an expert but I would say it’s because most grass species fall under the flowering plant family and flowering plants just didn’t exist at that time. Out of the non-flowering plants, ferns would provide good ground cover and grow quickly which is what you would want to fill that niche. I would imagine that most environments at the time were very humid so ferns make sense, says Asia. That sounds reasonable to me, I say. I don’t know if you know this but forests develop in stages, says Asia. The very first stage usually involves some kind of quick hardy “weed” like dandelions. These plants are called “scouts” and I think this is adorable but they do “scout out” the area and work at keeping soil in place and starting the ecosystem in the soil. The scout plants spread, die, decompose, enriching the soil and then come fast growing shrubs then trees. We like to think of trees as independent but they aren’t. A sapling can’t grow on its own: it needs cover from the sun and rich soil, says Asia. I actually didn’t know anything about scouts, I say. I have decided I want to hear everything you know! I say. I distinctly remember one time my very bright grandfather found a sapling on the outskirts of his property, says Asia. If I remember correctly, it was a tulip poplar tree and he wanted to dig it up and move it somewhere else. Me and my sister were like “I don’t know, it seems like it’s doing pretty good where it is” and it was the middle of the fucking summer in south Louisiana, it was hot. He wouldn’t listen to us, so he dug it up and moved it and it died in less than a week, says Asia.
I further the forest fragment face-to-face / forest futures fragment face-to-face
Forests further further forests / I further further forests by fugitive fragments I plane my fragments as herbaceous pioneers and shrubby pioneers Fragments cover quick fern fragments / stubby stalactite savannas (I stretch the savanna as extended pattern and fragment) I do not develop the forests but extend the forests I extend ben birch bodies blackberry bodies scotch broom bodies ben hinnom Forest repeats river echoes time / the only water in the forest is the river Forest lingers longer rivers: prolonged river pulses secondary-growth forest into old-growth forests (big shade and big mud) I prolong forest rivers rivers snake scale slightly different iterations surrounded by different silences
I search the forest for fragments and I find slightly irregularities sustained in the scouts and fragments The slight irregularities disrupt soil and explore new ground (fragment firewood wires wild new word) Fragments shimmer slight forest irregularities Pioneer plants extend forest soil then this happens and then this other thing happens
I extend the wild land set aside for hunting. Wild land extends open wood haunted and the witches gather ghost kind in secret forest shelters. I search forest silva sylvan split selves: I find my hunter-gatherer self and my bewitched sorcerer self through the wild forest mirror. I extend forest and field wild wood and rivers map multiplicities through the tree shadows. In shade, I conjure mirror forest and forests within forests wild: wild sylvan silver scouts extended sheets of sound.
Forest future float further forest her haunted face Her face fay and her face sylvan looks wild into my eyes gothic My face surfaces in the architecture of the secret forest city, and city mirrors my fractured spinal column My face city sylvan clings crisp to my cookie cutter shark mourning
Forest future face wraps snow around further feathers / feathers flint fragment zone of exclusion mutated forests (luminous limestone infiltrated forests lurk a long witch light light rivers) Luminous forests fragments find my frenzied face and I swing bat below monomania Manic forests mixed our forest Christina face-to-face: our face mourns videotape torso body horror
I thought of an art concept earlier, says Asia. Maps that look like normal maps but are representing what anarchic non-hierarchical communities would look like. I also thought of a concept for a xenofiction. It’s a post-apocalyptic xenofiction where corvids, cephalopods, slime molds (and maybe like dolphins and orcas) have gained sentience and formed their own societies. The story will be told from the point of view of a corvid named Fermi (like Fermi’s Paradox) and explore ideas of what is intelligence, cohabiting with other creatures, and similar themes to the Fermi Paradox except the other intelligent life is on the same planet. I was thinking the slime molds could use and repurpose leftover human technology and when they come into contact with other slime molds, they become one intelligence. I was also thinking of an entire forest being a sentient creature, says Asia.
I further forest fragment face-to-face / forest furthers fragment face-to-face Forest drags sling furniture snow to snow silicone breast implants (I bare my breasts forest blue sapphires) (My breasts blaze blue fire abyss and forest fangs forest fitted blue fires) Forest furthers fire fragments and benjamin bare breasted / blue breasted ben hinnom
I Do Not Develop The Rose But Extend The Rose, Part 2
I do not develop but I extend: I extend desert spiders and sand scarabs I repeat desert sprawl spiders speed and I extend sidewind word (word sidewinds Asia With Weevils a winter music) I do not repeat but red repetitions spider ribbons and spiders wind a knot not knot but forest gnosis (spiders spindle Tree of Knowledge of Good and Evil) Spiders spill new knot neumes, a monody of the forest
Forest repeats flesh patterns: I extend flesh I extend flesh float loot sound slant I extend a spider flesh float loot forest bioluminescence and my word weeps flash fluorescent flesh I extend flesh not form but scale (spiders scale wet stalactite word)
I now frequent the forest as much as the desert. Forest fragments do not differ much from desert fragments / desert fragments do not differ much from desert fragments. Forest frequently forms fragments and forest adds fragments through findings. Forest finds forest thrown into a fragmented desert, and desert repeats the forest. I frequent the forest because the forest figures foreshadowed human flesh: flesh son of man and flesh word woman (spiders spill from her mouth: spider speech and arachnid prophecy).
Forest repeats flesh pattern and pattern recognition I extend the pattern and it covers the entirety of flesh an overgrown forest I extend my flesh forest float loot sound wall slant / I wall slant shared water waver matter (Forest and fragment slant towards my watery body and my body prophesies body)
I have been thinking about what it means to prophesy again because I have been writing about it a lot, I say to Asia. I did tell you I have been talking to someone who absolutely adores my writing, yeah? She was very touched by some of my writing on prophecy because she’s also bipolar and experienced similar delusions of grandeur and she appreciated how I managed to ground my prophecy about god. I told her:
“When I stopped practicing as a Christian, I realized a part of me that wants to prophesy – and to speak truth about the world and humanity – still existed, but I realized it was not a prophecy rooted in god but a prophecy rooted in me and being in relationships with other people. It’s about wanting to create a radical and inclusive community on earth in the now, I guess.”
I think art and storytelling and mythmaking are all integral to this prophetic process. Prophecy is art and narrative and it just so happens to be the main narrative is Ben and Asia. I think I prophesy to us as well and in doing so it speaks to others in prophecy too, I say. I think I would agree with that, says Asia.
I prophesy art and narrative: I prophesy forest fragments Forest repeats flesh patterns: I extend forest I extent forest floats a lucid light lucy in the sky with diamonds Forest extends lucid dreams and arachnid army australopithecus Forest extends floating flesh and flesh flash points: forest points loose loot sound wall slant groove I groove walls walk slanted water: I grove wavering pomegranates Her myth shifts gospel of matthew shoe cabinet (my medicine cabinet molts slow carcass madeleine) Slow simple cedar shares forest medicine (cedar bows forest cello door cedar bows door dance desert dome or deal distance)
The leaves of a rose grows in clusters of five, nine, or thirteen leaves Between Elohim and Elohim, five words which grammar five divine leaves
I do not develop language but extend languages Languages repent echo river time Languages linger repetition longer: prolonged river scale slightly different iterations surround by different silences The slight irregularities ink exploration I prophesy subtle shimmers: this happens then this happens and then this other thing happens
Leaves cluster unique language as god grammars. Leaves linger a unique new york language and languages run retrograde run languages and language leaf language turns left rhizome: leaf language twists lift language. I look and her language places lampstands beneath the leaves. Leaves do not lessen but amplify the language lin guts. Leaves do not lessen but generate new grammars (my eternal grammar: through the yard of blonde girls).
I do not develop the languages but extend the languages
I extend the rose which grows in clusters of five, nine, or thirteen leaves
I Do Not Develop The Rose But Extend The Rose, Part 1
The leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, or thirteen leaves Between Elohim and Elohim, five words with grammar five divine leaves
Leaves layer a single notes in various patterns: leaves loop a single sustained wavering line Leaves sustain single tone fragments and I feel the fragments as manuscripts I fold fragments as scripture (the only scripture unravels leaves of grass the only scripture spools skin son of man)
The leaves of the rose repeat a void and repeat the void Rose leaves repeat void commercially available fluorescent light (Rose leaves exposed bone the void matrix) Rose and void fragment my body albeit in non-overlapping fragments Rose and void find desert in disjunct fragments: I rearrange the fragments in varying leaf clusters I arrange the irregular line rhythm up rhythm down desert, and I surprise the sand cats with syncopation I syncopate fragments as horn hits in the chromatic desert I comb sardine sand dollar chromatic / surprise polymeter sand cats (Desert combs chromatic panic attacks Fragments attack sudden staccato)
I examine the fragment as the flesh of my body. I feel my flesh in fragments and my body breaks disjunct across the sand bar. I examine the fragment and feel out its experiments: fragment experiments brief flashes of bioluminescence light in the bathypelagic zone. I alternate light fragments and word fragments to find a new mosaic sheets of sound: I search a sheets of sound collage bricoleured from bioluminescent and fucked-body syntax. I examine the fragment as flint or granite, and its friction rubs rose light and light escaping the eye. I examine the eye of the fragment and the fragment of the eye. My eyes break into oceanic fragments interrupted by jar jellies and tentacle tasers.
The leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, or thirteen leaves I grow leaf fragments: I grow the single sustained fragmented forest (fragments fragment fragment fragment: fragment forest fragments) Forest fragment looks fresnel lens lambda lamb of god (lamb of god who takes away the sins of the world, have mercy on this machine forest and forest monster) Forest ferments in fragments, a holy spirit sputnik syntax Line fragments blur forest light lobe lizards: low lizards scissor texture
Leaf fragments refract fractal textures Low lizard scissor textures fragments larva lizard lava textures (I do not explain the textures but revel in their kinesthetic rubble) Larva light loud lizard texture, a line refracting lower and higher registers Larva lava light beach lizards longer stone length: lizard bench press beach (I rapidly rearrange the beach glass fragments and sand textures)
A past Asia had this story idea, I say. A person in a haunted house but discovering the ghosts are all different versions of themselves. I was thinking what different versions of ben would haunt a house: a depressed sullen ben, a manic crazy ben, etc. Like 13 Ghosts, I guess, except it’s all you, I say. Oh damn, that’s a good idea, says Asia. I’m a genius. Too bad I can’t remember anything, she says.
I don’t remember fragments but they ghost as beach glass and discarded rose leaves (Fragments remember for me in the form of beach foam ghosts) (You are a genius, I say to Asia. That’s why you have me to remember for you. I don’t remember anything either. That’s why I write: write to remember, I say.) I don’t remember fragments but beach ghosts chant the leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, or thirteen leaves Leaves linger a stone tape on beach beaches and volcanic pebbles (I parable pebbles and paddles, a pouring out of holy ghosts) (I prepare the parables of the holy ghost as a division of thirteen ghosts)
Thirteen ghosts garment beach body without organs Thirteen ghosts gown beach crown of thorns / theater of the absurd Beach inhabits different bens as ghost fragments and I play the beach pebble bodies I play beach pink forest starfish Starfish fragment YHVH yosemite and I yoke myself to maypole ritual I make a maypole triptych from rose leaves and they cluster blood clot fragments Triptych tile repetition Morton Feldman fragments (Patterns are complete in themselves and in no need of development, only extension. My concern is: what is its scale when prolonged, and what is the best method to arrive at it?)
I forest fragments which are complete forests in themselves, but I continue to extend the forest. I populate the forest with roses and their leaf clusters extend a forest clustered white and pink. I fragment, which are complete fragments in themselves and their selves beach flesh. Their selves befriend flesh: hail the new flesh. My flesh floats forest fragments and I extend my flesh as a spore colony body horror. My forest appendages proliferate fragments.
Patterns are complete in themselves, and in no need of development, only extension I do not develop but extend / I only repeat fragment developing variation variation I don’t repeat repetition now knot knot: not knot but know knot beach beach and grocery aisle I walk no repetition upward grocery aisles and its islands superimpose beaches Grocery aisles meander interior laboratory corridors and secret bases in comic books I repeat no repeat pail sail knots: clipper variations barber development
The leaves of the rose grows in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves Leaves link patterns and fragments Leaves link link to the past patterns and fragments of the masamune Leaves link a rose language roses rhizome I do not develop the roses but extend: their stem extension swashbuckles door hinge hinge open language man o’war
I play with patterns but the patterns puzzle me. Patterns play me as much as I play the patterns, and their challenges charge several failed experiments on the page. I compose pages of patterns complete in themselves, and I love their alternating light and dark on the page. I accept my failures as still-interesting experiments and explorations, and I never stop exploring. I explore cave pattern experiment and desert patterns exploration no end (I play a desert music: it is a principle of music to repeat the theme. Repeat again and as again as the pace mounts. The theme is difficult but no more difficult than the facts to be resolved). The patterns are difficult but no more difficult than the pages to be resolved.
I do not develop but extend: I extend leaf clusters in five, nine, and thirteen leaves, and the leaves scale large orbits (the Book not a map, but a many-body problem composed of many orbiting galaxian systems) I repeat the roses, for there is a rose and then there is a rose I repeat the roses Asia Rhizome and Asia With Weevils and we share the forest spider word
Yesterday, one of my coteachers was talking about stepping on spiders with another teacher, says Asia. The other teacher said, “Don’t you hate it when you step on them and a bunch of babies run out?” and my coteacher said “I hate it when they do that.” I butted in and said, “THEY didn’t do that. YOU are the one that stepped on them.” We also got a new student yesterday who was wearing a Slipknot shirt. My coteacher told me the t-shirt made her uncomfortable because it was demonic, and I was like “Ma’am, it’s a generic band t-shirt. I don’t think that a 12-year old is a devil worshipper,” says Asia. Asia, great defender of spiders, I say.
There is a rose and then there is a rose: her rose with leaf clusters of five, nine, and thirteen tent a stairway of spiders Rose architects arachnid clusters and cicada crowds, and I compose a stochastic spider melody I connect a spider medley of leaf clusters and her harmony arranges spiders into stochastic vertical columns
Prophecy Of The Rose
The leaves of the rose grows in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves
Leaves leaven light and even light leaves leaven light uneven lights the bubblegum gradient of the rose
Leaves leaven elephant light glacial insects (glacial insects glint light gradient to gradient the grand green of the rose) Leaves layer elephant lights light cassette tape loops Loops light leaves glaciers / glacial lights sharpen leaf ice
Leavens glisten glacier light light rib erosion Light erodes insect leaves turn inside you Leaves turn haft half stone insects (insects select light glacial erratic) Leaves turn rocking light rotations and I imbibe leaf light I imbibe light insect inlets and inlets turn leaves looking I look leaf light labyrinths (to write leaf labyrinths look late Morton Feldman and I draw the desert with curtains drawn)
The leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves Thirteen leaves thread tense textures: thirteen leaves trusses textures and tensions present tense
There is a rose and then there is a rose: the rose reveals real. There is a rose and the rose reveals a rare rhizome and a real rhizome, and the rhizome plays the labyrinth of leaf clusters. There is a rose and then there is a rose, and I remember this rose in rhizome. This rose rhizome repeats leaves and clusters, a grand green labyrinth and a labyrinth grand guinol. I remember this rose in the multiplicity of its clusters and these clusters cling to a city desert crowded by coyotes. The rose of the coyote slices canine leaves and the leaves lace additional light from the desert skies.
The leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves Leaves lengthen labyrinth light vertical visible Leaves tongue a vertical light verdigris a generous leaf light labyrinth Present tense labyrinth lights a verdigris gut babel (babel gog and magog tower of babel) Leaves imprint insect tensions and textures mixtures tension mixtures night train (night train tags leaf tracings and light green nocturnes) Leaves cluster night train wheels and vertical telegram wire (I work fly-by-wire wheel clusters clusters creep rib cage constellations)
The leaves of the rose cluster where I wire textures (textures flirt night train present tense) Present tense looks leaves the very pulse of the machine / machines cluster thirteen leaf maximums I look at the lake water maximums and lake murmurs wire water light fragments
I flutter through leaf fragments and light fragments. Fragments flood an elephant light over the rose. Rose clusters flush to fragments and I fit the fragments present tense. I fit the fragments fidget and fractal, and the fragment fractals face Christina mourning and gog and magog. Fragments only transition to other fragments, an endless night train. It must always be night, otherwise they wouldn’t need the lights.
The leaves of the rose cluster present tense fragments Fragments wheel wire leaf whirligig: fragments from the Yod of the whirlwind and the tempest El Shaddai (El Shaddai wires fragments a telegraph tetragrammaton) Leaves of the rose cluster god fragments gog and magog and I rearrange my guts in rose clusters I arrange the bloom of my guts in leaf fragments (wheel fragment textures tress wire tenses wheel fragment flex fly-by-wire wild word) Fragment, wire leaf whirligigs: single notes in various patterns
(Single leafs in various patterns Single fragments in various patterns)
Single leafs in various patterns cluster various patterns Fragments in various patterns vine vertical verdigris fragments in grid (I draw grids fragment in graphite and I indulge in a fragmented minimalism) Single notes in various patterns sound leaves in clusters of five, nine, and the thirteen Leaves in various patterns lure light inland: a single sustained wavering light and a single sustained wavering light Leaves look light and line look fragments
You said this about my work a bit ago, I say to Asia.
[It’s bold and provocative, a big fuck you to the church, says Asia. But it’s also a hand reaching out to the part of yourself that has been excluded and others on the margins, looking them in the eyes and saying “you belong here, come as you are.” That’s prophesy to me. You job is to speak truth and comfort to those that have been marginalized by the church…]
Do you think my writing still does this? I say. I think it’s good to check to see if it’s prophesying properly. OK, let me be clear, says Asia. Your prophesying can change and still be “proper”. I do think this element of it has shifted some and you yourself have distanced yourself from church, she says. What do you think it has shifted to? Towards you and your relationships with others, says Asia. I am curious in what ways you feel that is prophetic or the prophetic spirit, I say. Can you tell me what it means for something to do prophetic? says Asia. I feel like I have a pretty loose definition and I have to make sure we are close to the same page, she says. I think my definition is very close to an encounter William Blake has in a few of his works, I say. This is from The Marriage of Heaven and Hell where Blake meets Isaiah and Ezekiel and he asks what Isaiah what made him think that God spoke to him:
Isaiah answered: I saw no God, nor heard any, in any finite organical perception: but my senses discovered the infinite in every thing, and I was then persuaded and remained convinced: that the voice of honest indignation is the voice of God, I cared not for the consequence but wrote…
I also think of the following lines by William Blake:
A Poet a Painter a Musician an Architect: the Man or Woman who is not one of these is not a Christian You must leave Fathers and Mothers and Houses and Lands if they stand in the way of Art
OK, simplify that into a single sentence, says Asia. I don’t think prophecy can be simplified into the sentence but sure: prophecy is the storytelling that realizes and brings about the creative anarchic community of things. Some people think that’s divine or the Kingdom of God. Then why wouldn’t your writing be prophecy? says Asia. I was more curious how you thought me writing about myself and relationships fit into prophecy, I say. Does your definition differ than mine significantly? Not by much, no, says Asia. But I’ll be honest with you, even if my definition was very different, it wouldn’t matter. I don’t have a concrete idea of prophecy outside of speaking and reaching people in some way. If you say what you write is prophecy, then your idea of what is and what isn’t is more important than mine, she says. I ask you though because I trust your judgment and I think it’s important to check and reevaluate I am prophesying what is true. I do consider you an important creative collaborator of my work even if it’s indirectly, I say. I just don’t think that I can say for sure what is true and what will speak to you, says Asia. Is me writing about me and my relationships prophecy for you? I say. Yes, because you are writing what is true for you, says Asia. If it’s true for you then if you feel it’s prophecy – I write our friendship in a true way, I say. Yes, says Asia.
The leaves of the rose grow in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves There is a rose and then there is a rose: I prophesy roses I prophesy the rose rhizome and multiplicities roses multidirectional I prophesy multidimensional fragments and fragments fractal present tense tensions textures (textures taryn ten thousand things)
I prophesy textures and threshold Textures tone and intone a prophetic threshold and light liminal light
I prophesy present tense textures and I tent prophetic fragments (I grapple and wrestle with the Book as prophecy, and I grapple with wrestle with myself as prophet, this Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom vision. What the book prophesies and my identity as prophet continually shifts and transforms. I continue to evaluate and reevaluate this prophecy and what it means to inhabit the prophet body and visionary body. I continue to resonate with William Blake’s visions and insights on prophecy: prophecy arrives with what might be called a Quaker Inner Light, or a ground of soul that boils over with a universal human insight. This prophecy cannot be separated from art-making, myth-making, and storytelling. My prophecy transparently struggles with what it means to prophesy and for all the better, because it cannot remain stagnant. Prophecy is process, even if it must continue in mournings, messes, masses, weddings, and fragments.)
The leaves of the rose grows in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves I prophesy rose leaf and leaves of grass and single notes in various patterns Leaf and leaves wire longer a single sustained wavering light and a single sustained wavering light Irregular leaves light line rhythm up rhythm down desert (desert dances up distance down distance delicious roses)
Single notes in various patterns cluster irregular lived irregular lights (my eyes have slightly irregular shapes and my iris opens a shaped canvas)
Irregular leaves line rhythm up rhythm down chromatic desert
The desert rose rarefies in dream. Leaves distill and condense into a material leaf and a leaf maximally metaphysical. This rose of sharon speaks in holy spirit tongues, a violent pink rose prepared from pentecost. The desert rose scales chromatic desert colors and I pick up the modal leaves in scalar fragments (fragments form a pantonal Book of Sand). The coyote cells inharmonic shards of rose: for there is a rose and then there is a rose. The desert rose condenses in the coyote dream and we must walk dreaming. The rose and the coyote walk dreams, and Christina and Ben walking dreaming. The desert rose scales Kindred in chromatic pink and saturated raw red. (When I put a green, it is not grass. When I put a blue, it is not sky).
The leaves of the rose grows in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen, and I have a vision of nine and thirteen I have the thirteenth Christina vision, and she emerges from the desert rose rock river fragments (For the rose reveals rebirth There is a rose and then there is a rose red rebirths I have a vision of Christina’s corpse as Tiamat: and the Lord stood upon Tiamat’s (Christina’s) hinder parts and with his merciless club he smashed her skull He cut through the channels of her blood, and he made the North wind bear it away into secret places (Jesus prays in the desolate place, the secret place of Christina’s hollowed-out body She tents open Lake Galilee tempest / shelter from the storm mechagodzilla skull) He split her up a flat fish in two halves, one half of her stabilized as a covering of heaven… (If Christina only remains as a corpse, I will transform her corpse into a Shekinah canopy; I will tan her skin for the Book anthropodermic bibliopegy. I do not know if I survive without Christina, but if I do, like Marduk, I will fashion creation recreation of Book and recreation of ben adam, my soul and body Ben Book Adam Kadmon. I don’t know if I survive Christina what Christina when Christina hollow earth – first wedding night first mourning night. Now night, Christina Babylon gores my body agharta).
The leaves of the rose grows in clusters of five, nine, and thirteen leaves
Gog And Magog Language Sings Strange Syntax
Gog and magog language garrotes ben adam bright blood guts of the gate
Gate gazes gog and magog: thirty-two gates gaze god and magog gut languages
Gog and magog opens the gate to the gears of the skull Skull skewers gate splash cymbal cinders Skull skewers gate jazz and skull magog ornament, plywood or painted fiberglass gog tea kettle stone tools
I gather language as stone tools. I grind stone after gog and magog. I gather language stone tools that act as talons. My stone tools growl hyena and jackal. I gather stone tools and jazz languages and gog jams fast swing on the ride cymbal (I fashion the ride cymbal from stone and skulls). I gather skull language as stone tools and I ground her gaze gog and magog. The gate jaws jump blues and dixieland jazz and gog and magog gaze at the sock cymbal from the audience. I stab magog through the skull with the sock cymbal and the skull cavity spills stone tools.
Gog and magog language garrote ben hinnom at the gates: gates glide stone tools in blood
I transition to stone tools I transition to materials inside the city and outside the city (I create almost nothing with and without any material / something happens which transforms nothingness into movement) Something happens which transforms nothingness into movement
I transition to stone tools and something happens which transform nothing into movement meteor motility rocket momentum rhizome Momentum maws magog monomyth mutants / gutter graboid graphomania
I move material and I transform material I move material gog and magog monomyth and I manipulate myth into the marriage of forest Forest marriage meanders store material meander oxbow beetle bastard noise I move gog and magog language around arranges and rearranges stone sentences Magog sentences scrimshaw sharktooth scrambled egg bodies (I build my body sediment and scrambled egg strata) My ben gog scrambled egg body gaze forest gate with nail fastenings (Nails nudge certain silhouettes) Nails sharpen Taryn silhouettes shrinking and growing a shadow shuttle Taryn shrinks and grows soda pop banjo anthropic rock
Gog and magog language sings strange syntax: gog and magog languages strange a subtle syntax. Syntax stretches serpents around the gears of god grinding gog and magog. The sentence and syntax sings strange surreal and subtle surreal, and even in the disintegration, one finds the monomyth. God and magog strike the sentence strange and it slides into serpent slime and skull slime. I manipulate the slime and it surrenders both directions at once. Sometimes, the slime settles and melts the language, and I still participate in its mystical nonsense (nonsense reveals the secrets of the skull).
Gog and magog language garrotes ben adam bright blood guts at the gate I crown the gates with garden garments / granite glows human nudity
Granite glows human nudity / gog and magog elephants Gog and magog elephants insect glacier erratic (erratic glaciers pull gag guns / BANG! ben hinnom) Elephant insect gag glacial erratic / erosion ribs remnant (Erosion exposes human ribs and phantom nude bodies) Elephant gog insect inlet half stone swim rocking rotations Insects in inlet half stone swim rocking chair rotations Granite glows human nudity scrapes cranium
Gog and magog language strange a blowgun blood (blood blowgun blasting cap capstone) I look at language while magog gazes at bone gates I look at gut languages and pulp language gas beetle bastard noise (I grind the noise gog and magog bone powders) Bones breathe steppe sentence skeletons / skeleton scramble and shrink and glow skull shuttles (I sense in this scrambles language or languages multidirectional monomyth Monomyth mutates desert multidirectional) Gog and magog gaze gate experiments and bewildering monomyths: I myth their bloody eschaton
How much karma do I need to reincarnate as forest soil mycelium? says Asia. Asking for a friend. Cure cancer probably, I say. Everyone wants to be forest soil mycelium so high requirements. I hope I become part of the spore network or Pando, I say. I’m heading to bed. I will dream text you when I see the giant cicada swarms converge into the Megazord and fight off the asteroid coming to earth, I say.
This gog and magog language open up a gory and grotesque sequence of interlinked book body horror. This body horror resembles reincarnation into forest soil mycelium or participating in a quaking aspen clonal colony. Iannis Xenakis says: “The collision of hail or rain with hard surfaces, or the song of cicadas in a summer field. These sonic events are made of thousand of isolated sounds: this multitude of sounds, seen as a total, is a new sonic event.” This gog and magog fuck up eschaton and syntax circles through the sentence thousands and desert multidimensional. It disintegrates and reintegrates something different and something else and language networks spores, soils, seeds and cave grottos. Sentences mutate or evolve in abrupt ruptures / jagged syntax belljars. Gog and magog language weathers word chaotic and the chaos of my human languages and relationships.
Do you care if I live or die? I say. Would you be better with me not existing? Yes, I care whether you live or die, says Asia. Why? I say. This is stupid, she says. You’re my friend. I’m not going to sit here and measure the positives and negatives and whether or not my life would be better without you. If I thought that it would be better, I wouldn’t be your friend. I’m your friend because I enjoy talking to you and you obviously add to my life. Also it’s worth mentioning that all relationships are give and take. You kind of have to expect there to be rough times and times where you might give more and take less and times where you take more and give less because you don’t have much to give. That’s the nature of being human and interacting with others humans. I don’t see relationships as transactional, says Asia. What I feel and how I feel isn’t stupid, I say. That’s not what I said, says Asia. You wanted me to give specific reasons why I would be better without you. I don’t know how to quantify it for you. I don’t know how to give it value for you. I don’t know what to say that I haven’t said before. All I can say is that it has value to me, says Asia.
Gog and magog language garrotes ben adam bright blood guts of the gate Something happens which transforms nothingness into movement Stone movement rotates and mirrors stone movement Stone moves elephant insect glacial erratic (I unearth erratic I erratic eat earth insect) Insect inlets pour horn gog and magog (Insect inlet amplifiers magog gorguts obscura) I rotate stone insects and rock nonsense moves into cicada myth I imbibe insect inlet lager labyrinth (a labyrinth for laser tag drinks beer garden and library) I imbibe insect water longer labyrinths (to write and listen Morton Feldman a room with curtains drawn)
Gog and magog language looks at forest fragments bloody / ben bodies hang topical tree trunks elephant trunk
I look at the fragments in different intensities of lights Light tense texture tussles forest soil mycelium rubble (Fragments rabble gog and magog circular ruins) Tense lights trussed texture tensions / rotations from moving into something Magog stacks skulls and sack symbols and swings nothing into something I look at languages present tense textures / train in my wheel wire (I wheel to magog on the swarms of cicada wings) Wheel wire textures whirligigs: single notes in various patterns
Single notes in various patterns Various patterns moving half contra half stone (First wedding night. But first mourning night?) I mourn length deep time I mourn the length of my spinal column (Single notes in various patterns Cloud step pyramids machine vaporwave) I mourn first night last night alpha and omega I marry mourning long alphabet, an extended alphabet human body bartender bell birds
(Mourning Christina’s absence occurs in repeated earthquake patterns and single notes aftershocks) (Mourning juggles a thousand thousands cicada swarms dodging hailstorm stones)
Gog and magog wheel wire textures textures chariot whirligigs: single notes in various patterns Land light lap light wire a single sustained hovering line Irregular wire rhythm up rhythm down desert chromatic
I move around the stones and the wheels but all the arrangements look like human skulls. I move skulls in different rotations and variations, and the skulls roll a gog and magog wheel (internal evidence indicates that the Gog oracle was composed substantially later than the chapters around it). I compose a skull oracle and a wheel oracle and my oracles overlap as spore networks and extensive clonal colonies. I move the oracles towards word wire and I transform God from magog into gog and magog (Gog and Magog besieges the City of Saints: Devil, Gog and Magog attack the Holy City). I move around the stones present tense and I move around the single tone to different stones, but it’s all a single note with various patterns.
Gog and magog garrote god languages Languages land light a single sustained wavering line Language lap light a single sustained wavering line) Irregular lines write gog and magog present tense chaotic with future tense Tense tresses textures tensions train and wheel wire (training wheel wires hide oracles)
A single sustained wavering line
Singe notes in various patterns a single sustained wavering line
Gog and magog gate at the gates an irregular line and irregular gaze
Gog And Magog Language
Gog and Magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood
Gog and magog gears harsh god languages: languages lips prodded or stabbed languages lips prodded or stabbed through by hailstone plague Languages jut or jab gog and magog machine Gog and magog machine massacre or matchlock fires fuck gog magog
Gog and magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood I sample bloody crucifixion / joust joint body without organs
Gog and magog language glue goliath beetle human corpses: I copy the corpse and I sample Nintendo controller start and select buttons I copy the corpses and I unbutton the beetles I copy the cup human giants jupiter gog and magog (The cup of your sister you shall drink, so wide and deep, which holds so much, filled with destruction and grief, a cup of dismay, the cup of your sister)
I glean gog and magog language. I grade gog and magog languages and the gradient of the languages pour guts. The guts of gog and magog graze a gorgeous language and a grotesque language. I enjoy the harsh gadgets of gog and magog and I groan ugly carnival and grimy circus circuits. The gush of gog and magog glooms or glows the grove. I greet the grove of language gargoyles and grotesque (kink and khora body without organs). My tongue continues the press of giant word gog and magog. My tongue licks the ugly of gog and magog block light gusto. I enjoy the gusto of its guts.
I drink the cup of my sister so wide and deep I drink the desert deep samples parodies of parodies polyphonic pieces themselves on plainsongs
I drink the cup of my sister Christina and Christina destruction dives wide gog and magog (her gears jab gog and magog eschaton and eschaton scrapes ben hinnom grotesque)
Gog and magog languages gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood The bright blood of the Book beams the bright blood of the Book A bloody book broods broad melody and pastoral horns (A leper melody manipulates the lincoln log horns of leviathan)
Gog and magog languages confuse the babel confusion of thick tongues My tongues taste and trace strange language: a gog and magog polyglot idioglossia I tongue thick babel gog machine minimal: I minimal Minal minimal meet minal left fold meat right fold figure with meat (figure with meat screams gog and magog)
Gog and magog gyrate a graphic language and a material magic word. I combine gog with abracadabra and magog with alakazam. I grind gog and magog down to a fine powder and I toss it as a plague of lice. The gusts of gog turn the guts of languages, and their apocalyptic word foreshadows figure with meat or the Odessa Steps. Gog steps as a serpent and the language spirals thick tongues of fire. I find the language fiery flying serpents.
Gog and magog glint granite minimal language: granite giant words and gas giant gog and magog Gog figure with meat folds left on right drone draft drift mouth drawings (I draw gog and magog / I draft gog and magog Gog and magog people being walled off by alexander’s forces) Forces flee or speed to the language forests
Gog and magog forests force flow skull ford forest Forests gut gog and magog folds skulls the grand guinol ganglion of my central nervous system
Gog and magog cut open my gut and reveal a myriad of languages: a forest language, a mourning language, and a spinal cord language. Each language babels gog and magog and each breath my body like gas gangrene. The language eschaton stinks and festers a novel language, and I explore or experience with the apocalyptic decay of my body.
Gog and magog language gags, ben throat-gut glut bright blood Blood fields the melody of my gangrene gas ganglion Nerve ganglions concentrate concentric circles sign post sink holes I inhabit holes cave water body without organs (six or seven wolves swallow my enlarged liver)
Gog and magog macerate nerves Nerves nest neat bourbon body without organs Slack organs gallop seed sick seizures (This gog language seizes me magog heap of languages A heap of language grasping at the hell wheel of Edom) I feel my nerve ganglions climbing up the walls (but either way you turn, I’ll be there open up your skull I’ll be there climbing up the walls)
God gog and magog gods gut hell both directions at once: multidirectional desert and I wander forty days tempted by the vowel void of Christina My slack organs seize something pool Christina seizures (I drink from her cup wide and deep as the swimming pool black sea and it seethes destruction bright blood) I only hear or clash gongs gog and magog and their swimming pool plagues pus and boils wide destruction (First, you’re getting a swimming pool full of liquor then you dive in it) Ben body without organs against swim current currant plague pomegranates I pick the pomegranates from the wheel nest nylon and bone saws call gog and magog
Gog and magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood. Blood builds behind my eyes a hermit crab blue. Blood bakes ben breasts and I swim abreast pools of hell. I freestyle then backstroke in hell brimstone (Gog gags me in hellfire fellatio). The gog ben gut bewilders my language and I continue to wrestle gog and magog with word battering ram and sentence siege but their hell withholds wild. Gog and magog hell multidirectional.
Son of Man, set your face toward Gog, the land of Magog, the head of Meshech and Tubal, and prophesy concerning him…
Because I’m not going to be the aggressor here, says Asia, and if I block you, I will just be giving you what you want. A self-fulfilling prophecy for you to point at and say “See?! I told you.” Like I said, the ball is in your court, you can block me but I’m not going to block you. I’m not going to give you anything you can use for your pity party. No “this proved that I’m not worth it.” No, your actions got us here, and you can get better, but you have to wrestle with your actions. I’m not going to let you purposefully drive me away and then blame me for leaving. I’ve mentioned before I value our conversations about spirituality. You’ve helped me a lot in that regard. I also value your input about writing and you inspire me to write and experiment and be creative and you have interesting perspectives on things that other people don’t bring to the table, says Asia. (I like to keep my conversations with Asia fairly achronological – a prophetic kairos and ambiguous messianic time – which is why I have written the “Conversations With Asia” archives less explicitly. I want our conversations to exist in an always-already time and a time parousia: already here always coming the Kingdom of Heaven is within you. But I interrupt that mystical time to place this in an exact time: this response from Asia occurred during the nadir of our relationship, almost 17 months ago. Both very distant and not very distant at all. In recording this segment of conversation, I see even at our lowest, Asia shows an unconditional love for me. She is going to stick around – she’s not going to be the one to end our friendship but she leaves that responsibility to me. She will be with me until I decide I no longer want to be part of the friendship. I severely underestimate her unconditional love for me. I prophesy now in the resilience and power of our friendship and our continued unconditional love for each other.)
Son of Man, set your face toward Gog, the land of Magog, the prince, the head of Meshech and Tubal, and prophesy concerning him. And you shall say; so said the Lord God: Behold, I am against you, Gog, the prince of the head of Meshech and Tubal. And I shall unbridle you, and I shall put hooks in your jaws…
Gog and magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood Blood unbridles my nerves and placed hooks in my concentric circle ganglion (Nerves near bone nervous: bone armature interlocking with discursive architecture / my bones bite brutalist concrete gog and magog) (Gog and magog Mr. Magoo visits the beach or grocery store) Nerves bird nests collected spinal column tuplets: tuplets to twelve-tone row anarchic axe sackcloth Gog and magog displace hooks tuplet bloodlet hit men
Son of man, set your face toward Gog, the land of Magog… The cup of your sister you shall drink, so wide and deep, which holds so much, filled with destruction… I drink the cup of my sister. Philip K. Dick writes: “What I make is my sister. Permeating this cosmos – my kosmos. Her blood and body – my sister; I am in her…” My sister and Philip Kindred Dick’s sister: Christina. Gog and magog gut bright blood: Christina’s blood which is my blood. Christina, my sister. Christina, not here. Christina a full ghost, but I drink from her cup: cup wide word and cup with the grief of my destruction. Our cup swimming pool becomes ocean (it’s not a lake: it’s an ocean). Son of Man, set your face to where Christina inhabits not: she’s still your sister. The Kindred shares the same spiritual blood. I drink the cup of my sister so wide and deep, and her blood samples desert parodies of parodies polyphonic pieces themselves on plainsongs.
It’s hard for me without Christina, I say to August. It’s definitely forced me to develop my friendship with Asia and you even more. That’s the thing about grief is that it is a wound that begs to be seen, says August. There’s a parallel from grief to Christ’s wounds and overall sacrifice on the cross. It also just sucks and it sucks in a way that doesn’t have its own inherent value or meaning. We construct and scaffold around it to cope with the horrifying reality that it will happen again and again, that all things end. But the great thing about the fact that it's constructed is that we can make that building look and function however we want, says August.
Gog and magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood The blood of the forest burns with the same brightness as the blood of the swimming pool Forest fold flow skull ford forest flood mud rough Forest forensics fist faucet: facet fashion fission black dress fissile material Gog and magog gamble black dress on the beach: magog mixed cysts pus inferno Gog and magog mixed an infernal mons pubis cum volcano
Gog and magog language forest fragments and I continue to mourn in fragment grotesque Grotesque gog gun felsic magma forest Intermediate magma mixed media gog and magog generates magma mixed media (intermedia mourns the absence of Christina) gog and magog embeds mixed media into human bodies I hang the bodies unbridled with hooks and mafic magma drinks desiring-machine wide cups / cup matterhorn hooks wide destruction mixed media Mafic magma melts with magog helix bandits (Sandy bandits bistro bodies a cool gog cave cannibalism) (cannibalism cook embolism elfin forest elephants)
Asia loves me a lot. Asia loves me a lot and I don’t accept it easily. Asia loves me a lot – that is an understatement. What I mean is, Asia seems to love me with as much love as a friend can love another friend. Her love for me is of the degree when Jesus says: there is no greater love than this, to lay one’s life down for a friend. Asia doesn’t die for me but she lives for me and grows with me, and she gives me her time and contributes to our friendship. Asia loves me more than my brain gives her credit for. I continuously feel anxiety and doubt about our friendship and its nature, but Asia loves me abundantly and excessively. Asia loves me very much. Asia loves me unconditionally – she always loves me and she loves every ben: suicidal ben, stagnant and depressed ben, manic and egomanaical ben, nonsense and absurd ben – she loves every ben and all bens, and I can’t persuade her otherwise. I should just accept she unconditionally loves me today and for the rest of my life. No matter how I invert / pervert / rearrange and combine her actions and our conversations, one thing remains constant: Asia unconditionally loves ben and Asia unconditionally cares for ben. The reasons for my anxieties, doubts, and questions about the nature, stability, and strength of our friendship has nothing to do with Asia’s actions and words, but has to do with my own lack of value I place on myself as a person. I am not sure how to overcome these doubts: I often feel I accidentally hurt Asia with my doubts and anxieties, and I hope she doesn’t feel discouraged or feel like she isn’t doing enough – she already shows she loves me more than I know and I can never give enough credit. I will keep repeating her unconditional love and her unconditional care for me like mantra and magical formula until my brain rewires itself and I trust Asia unconditionally like she deserves to be trusted unconditionally.
Asia loves me unconditionally and I will figure out how to transform this idea and her actions into a seal or sigil or magical name and invocation: rewire my brain into a pure trust and love for myself and for Asia and for our friendship
I love Asia too but I’d like my actions to be more obviously evident of my unconditional love like her actions for me
[I send Asia the excerpt above about how much she loves me unconditionally.] What makes your actions less unconditional? says Asia. I feel I have to ask of confirmations and reassurances, and I wonder if that’s a sign of lack of trust on my part, I say. If you’re asking, you probably don’t see much of a difference between my actions and yours, I say. It’s just a weird thing to measure and compare, says Asia.
Gog and magog language gags ben throat-gore glut bright blood Son of Man, set thy face toward Gog, of the land of Magog, the chief prince of Meshech and Tubal, and prophesy against him I prophesy Christina I prophesy Christina korakoram hooks and cusps I turn thee about and put hooks in your jaws and your jaw jams jagged guitar riffs / she got a catholic block inside my head I let it go to work bring it all back home I got a catholic block do you like to fuck I got a catholic block I guess I’m out of luck
Silent Fragments
A simple in the silence into an approaching hover and I frequent the absurd silence of her fragments
I reap silent sleep fragments passion in passion / apocalypse aphorisms
I read silent street reapers: she reeks of fragments quiet snow and ice flowers
I strike ice silent sun sleep Ice stripped stretched silence hovers her quiet abyss A ben hinnom barber pole races blood crucified body without organs
Passion experiments different methods and techniques of crucifixion
Crucifixion slope toward silence Crucifixion slopes language long language performance Language performs the quiet snow slant of crucifixions
A simple in the silence into an approaching hovers fragments Fragments sleep silence slopes and skin crimps from crucifixion (I have to read all the translations to get a gold idea) (The quintet betrays the image of Christ he has presented by turning into a vision of AntiChrist, cavorting to a foxtrot)
Crucifixions cup silence: crucifixions cut silence crop crater acenter Crucifixions carry silence hovers abyss / in the blood of calves, lambs, and goats, I find no pleasure I prophesy a silent crucifixion: Book crucified quiet Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / texts trap open entrails
A simple in the silence texts trap open entrails I scale my entrails in silence and silence slices new crucifixions and new central nervous system (Nerve ganglions concentrate; they become localized and forward in my head) I do not silence my nerves but they explore space and full space and spur space-filling curves Nerve nerves needle tunnel taryn through tannin Taryn through through tannin rough rhythm enervation (Nerves seizes my skin in silence and swims paranoid bobbins bobbing for apples / Christina resides in this absurd endless abyss) Nerves nudge night locusts silent night deadly night (Sometimes I feel I translate late Morton Feldman works into Book form: fragments appear fragments repeated fragments varied and rearranged, but never fragments developed. They exist as not quite isolated moments, moments with a genealogy, but forgetful of its history. I too arrange and rearrange these fragments: I vary the fragments but sometimes I feel unable to develop them. Even if I use the anarchic narrative to slow and simmer in these images, I’m not sure they ever escape existing as a series of interrelated and overlapping non-moments. That said, late Morton Feldman is some of my favorite music: I listen to Violin and String Quartet as I write this, so perhaps it’s not a bad thing if the Book resembles his late works)
A simple in the silence into an approaching hover: she hovers as the localization of my nervous ganglions
Nerves nudge night focus camera (I pick up the camera and photograph the surface of the skull I photograph crucifixion edges) Nerves as night knock on the door of the skulls and camera grapples skull I grapple the groin of the skull (her skull sits in silence and starts focus phantasmagoria) and its cave wall crucifies lamb chops Cave wall ice crucifies my nervous ganglion cluster god choir gangrene (cathedral choir rots gas gangrene and mustard light leprosy)…
Her silence stings swing low sweet chariot Her silence seduces me to silence
I Settle In Her Silence
A simple in the silence onto an approaching hovers
I sum her silence silence some fragments Fragments fear forest fog
Simple silence A declining Maine sea town: I move from the ocean inland Silence sister her silence: sea sin sine wave ocean woman Silence or quiet Quiet sin steam stream leopard pill box hat woman Sea lion woman dressed in green wears silk stockings with golden seams
A quiet green and a silent green A simple seam in the silence green seamstress honey
Sometimes I need the silence: often I need the silence. I tend or trend towards a maximum and a wall of sound, and I build up the text with the tapestry of intersections, clusters, and found noises. Sometimes I need the silence. Sometimes I need the this is where time becomes space. The space allows for freer movement and the space shows a visible silence. A simple silence spreads more quiet space. Silence seeps through the pages.
A simple in the silence into an approaching hovers Silence slow snows Snowy silence sleets rain remix moon and medicine Slow slow snow its not filler it’s exploration Silence I explore sprawl spider leg dinner plates Simple snow I explore cave geologies and desert geodesics Geodesics snow quiet spiral column dime time / chronotopes have a tendency to leak
My skull descends a simple in the silence Silent my skull descends earth earths halves hemispheres Skulls descent quiet earth depths dry ice bone surface A simple into silence surface salts surfaces weird west fiction
I sleep strangely and without silence. My sleep likes sounds and loud sounds. Sounds separate my brain from my body and the dissociation takes detours through noisy dreams. Screaming cicadas crowd my dreams. I sleep with strange insect swarms and not silence. Wide beetles draw their guns in weird west dreams. I sleep stringing together the slalom of sounds but silence still seeps through. Silence stills and stranges separation. Silence stills single separation without separation a steady sine wave dream.
A simple in the silence into an approaching hover: hover her space A simple see-line woman dressed in red make a man lose his head
Simple I sculpt silence Silence I sculpt strange word scrap metal I sculpt strap word light mine shaft Silence shares the shaft her quiet (her quiet morro bay milk shortstop automobiles) Silence sculpts shortstop skin see-line woman She signs simple a sculpted skull and skull ruptures seaweed car crashes Quietly I carve the skulls I carve skull scrap incomplete coral or lunch pail metals (metals milk welfare mothers make better lovers) She signs simple a skull shipyard and metals milk three blind mice build a better mousetrap babel
I babel a silent bitches brew. I cool a cooked cauldron stewing human skulls. The forest flows with free jazz witches. I babel witches windows in a silent way and the see-line woman dresses in red fires through the triangle windows. I’ve dreamed her before but with noise as silence. Her witching silences occur more rarely.
A simple in the silence into the approaching hover covers witch windows I trumpet through windows wild word and weird west insects
I was watching an old Jenna Marbles video and she said “I was a worm in your pockets kind of kid” and I thought, Asia and Jenna would get along as kids, I say. I was definitely a worm in the pocket kid, says Asia. Did you ever carry worms or bugs in your pockets literally? I say. Yes, literally, says Asia. And frogs and toads. I would try to show people and if they reciprocated, we would become friends. I did have a friend that I chased around with crickets though. He was afraid of bugs, says Asia. Makes sense why you carry around rocks and show people, I say. The rock made me happy so it makes sense that would make others happy, says Asia. I was really happy when you shared that picture of the rock, no joke, I say. I got really excited to see it. It’s a very pretty rock, says Asia.
(I realize now if I share my writing with others and they immediate vibe with it or are intrigued by it, I know I should try and befriend that person)
A simple in the silence into an approaching hovers or hours Simple I hear hours in silence silence hovers Silence scales bulbous tubers tunneled tar-tan-tattooed automobiles Cars trumpet a scandalous silence Silence trumpets legal tender lanterns tuned additional trumpet choirs Trumpets pickpocket plateaus and theater talkboxes
I tried to learn to play the trumpet once. I bought a cheap trumpet online and looked up fingering charts. It was not a successful endeavor: woodwind techniques came to me easily, but brass techniques felt completely foreign and it took much time to even produce recognizable trumpet tones. Eventually I managed some Ornette Coleman type trumpet playing but because I didn’t know anything about trumpets or how to maintain it, the valves rusted shut. Thus ended my trumpet journey.
A simple trumpet splatter watercolor silence A silent trumpet false fingers talkbox tundras and plateaus
I move from the ocean inland I move or maneuver hover silence Silent moon silent her tune I listen hours silence A simple stream in the silence seamstress hovers: I hover her hours Silence to make it possible to write at all Space to make it possible to write at all To make write rapt silence and silence wrestles a rascal forest Forest fug fumes a noisy silence the nature of the sound New folds always a simple alternation of the right and the left
I alternate between noise and silence. I crowd my spaces but the space envelopes more space dark energy. I crowd my space and space alternates noise and silence, folds left and right left and right. I fold the silence into the space and I fold the myth into narrative. I storytell a flipped magnetic north, a simple alternating of left and right. I dream the noise and its cicadas alternate with impossible silence: the two tones of the bloodstream and brain’s electricity. It’s not filler – it’s exploration. It explores the space and silence alternating crowd and noise.
A simple forest noise approach forest silence and she hovers her forest hours Silence forests noise and forests simple alternation left and right: left forest flight flight right forest (Forest hovers her silence hours Hours quiet forest free physics free music slow motion minimal effect Effect forest hovers her hours)
Silence seems absurd. Silence seem absurd but also appropriate: appropriate for grieving Christina’s absence from my life. Silence feels appropriate but I can never be silent. Wittgenstein wrote: Whereof one cannot speak, thereof one must be silent – but fuck Wittgenstein. I cannot speak of my grief and mourning Christina but I must keep tracing and retracing this Christina-shaped wound (an endless abyss and bottomless pit). Never silent yet I settle in Christina’s silence. Her silence seems absurd and her silence hovers in recurring fog and forest fragments.
A simple in the silence into an approaching hover and I frequent the absurd silence of her fragments
Sometimes I Dream Of Dinosaur Skulls
Book prophesies a silent forest and a silent sea A simple in the silence into an apparent approaching hovers A simple sea simple syrup stirrup snow forest fog phosphors
Forests crucify wandering human bodies and my body abides in silence. My body abides silence breached by forest silence, and the silence surfs leaves of grass god bodies. Forest crucifies even god bodies silently and I cook impaled gods over wild wood charcoal. I burn my body forest into simple ash and I scatter ash silence into approaching waters. I wade in forest waters and they float snow crucifixions and impaled ice.
A simple into the silence stirs sound soil up fog sea A simple silence stirs snow fog new simplicity: snow sound fans polyamorous Snow silence sounds polyamorous file forests Forests file fang single silence similar valleys: valley voice silence into new simplicity Sanguine snow row feedback folding chair no hair theorem
I prophesy a quiet crucifixion and a silent crucifixion: a crucifixion without Christina I prophesy a silent new simplicity A simple sea simple syrup sways with Christina ghosts A simple in the silence apparatus approaching the ghost apartment: her ghost forest the apartment overgrown barnacles Silence branches sanguinous snow row feedback folding chair no hair theorem
I dream of Taryn as various mathematical theorems. Taryn without hair still maintains her blonde personality and the blonde bends silence. Her blonde waves blonde fourier series and she solves a forest of wave equations. I too wave blonde and the blonde Book crucifies. Book crucifies blonde but Taryn models nude the foundations of mathematics. I dream of Taryn as various mathematical theorems and she finds the area under the sea curve of crucified bodies. She finds forests silence silent fundamental theorem of calculus and the cusps crack open my cranium (texts jump on trampoline open skulls).
I was talking to Ann Marie this week and we were talking about the Bible, I say to Asia. She’s been accused of worshipping the Bible. She feels the text is assembled over many centuries and even accidentally the divinity of the text comes through. God made it work and it conveys a powerful multivalent message like all scripture does. The tension between the local of the text and the individual message of each book simultaneously [reveals divine] with the overall unity of the text. I said, I believe that too except no God is involved… You told me a myth of the Book is reworking of myth, deconstructing myths like the Bible we grew up with and remaking it as our own. I still believe that and I think we are definitely doing that still. I thought you’d find that interesting, how Ann Marie and I agree about the power of the Bible with a fundamental difference, I say. It is pretty interesting, says Asia. I also think about Wild Geese by Mary Oliver, I say. That’s become part of your myth. That poem is scripture for you and to a lot of people. She shows it matters the stories we tell ourselves, I say. Very true, says Asia. Her poetry seems to have a way to cut right to the core, right to the heart of things, she says. Neither me nor Ann Marie are big fans of her poetry but we both acknowledge its power it’s had on others, I say. I’m the opposite, I guess. Mary Oliver is taking the straight path through the forest to see the forest lake and deer. My work is meandering through the forest and looking at every little thing and maybe eventually I find the lake but it’s OK if I don’t. Usually I find the lake with your help though – with my friends’ help, I say. Me and your friends dragging you to the lake while you talk about jazz and car crashes, says Asia.
I prophesy crucifixion: Ben crucifies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom / tiles tile pterodactyl tessellations open forests
I sometimes find the forest lake despite crucifixions I find the forests lake punctuated orange primitive ladder I find forest lake punctuated orange abrupt white window portions blue triangles Forest crucifies ben hinnom ray cadmium red snow cadmium yellow slow mud technicolor glass Forest crucifies broad ben bodies technicolor leaves of grass and grass grotto silence
I sometimes find the forest a simple into silence circular: silence circles lake conics prime of its tender tendrils
Forest lake repeats sculpture shape ionosphere and I row machine mycorrhiza I dig her forest brain braingel lake (Apparently fungus works a lot like neurons and they talk to each other, says Asia) I go to work and dig up a California central coast that would be a true Inferno and Paradiso
I look lakes and I find sea I prophesy a forest lake and her littoral light loom lake lark fountain sea Her littoral light loon lake lark further sea Her littoral Taryn tide swell shore rose whore her rhizome and I share sword water forest meteorites I measure meteorites by its forest parasangs / I measure meteorites by its desert displacement (I listen to Circus by Kazuki Tomokawa: the spectators and sardines all, throats rumble and oyster shells… I listened to this song on repeat the day Christina got married, a marriage of course which has now ended Now I listen to it to commemorate her absence, a mysterious mercury and a comic remembrance: wild word finnegans wake I find her ghost forest liminal limbo littoral First wedding night – first mourning night?)
I look littoral and the coastline transforms into a laboratory to conjure Christina ghosts. I look littoral and shore shimmers shifting color and liminal color, and Christina ghosts glow apophatic pink-grey. Lake lights loop lake lights a liminal littoral laboratory and edge waters and unnervous ghosts between superluminary colours. Littoral surfaces loot human spirits to sustain Christina ghosts, a subtle form of crucifixion.
Book crucifies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom tents trap ocean entrails Littoral entrails broadcast spinal cord clacks casks earth core more detail I detail littoral dance waters and I find her forest lake
Yesterday I walked around with a cool rock in my pocket, says Asia, and every time I passed a teacher who I thought would like cool rocks or a student who looked like they were having a rough time, I asked them if they wanted to see a cool rock. Everyone said yes. This is my new litmus test for whether or not I want to interact with that person ever again, says Asia. I NEED PICTURE OF COOL ROCK, I say. [Asia sends picture of cool rock]. Yes, it’s cool! I love it, I say.
The Book prophesies crucified Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom among the river-mix of rocks and skulls
Artifice spills from my skull as radio crackle rain (radio crackles and rare red rocks crisscross rainfall runoff awful human faces) Word wild spills from my skull igneous rock leaves of grass Technicolor grass glass glows spinal cord rhizomes / my rigid skull splits planetary halves and halves rocky satellites My rock skull spits god hostage stone hemispheres and the hemisphere skip galloping stone horses
I like skulls. I dream of skulls in fast food lines and roller coaster queues. I dream of waiting in fast food lines to order a skull combo meal and I stand in the queue to ride the skull roller coaster. I like skulls and their cavities and sinuses swim lakes and craters. I skinny dip in this planetary skull and it halves hold crucified bodies and old-growth forests. I like skulls and I tune my skulls to crystal radios and the alternative rock station duplicates skulls. Disintegrated skulls form the earth’s deserts.
My skull caves in cave mouth cosmic horror My skull caves in cave mouth machine-crucified Ben Hinnom (a ben hinnom homunculus fertilizes the nearby rainforest) My skull distills steppe home invasion horror / hand gore left gulf crucifixions An attacker wearing a lamb mask smashes my skull with a machete Skull remains grow glass technicolor forests
Today I found a cormorant with a bunch of string tangled around its beak and I seriously considered tackling the bird and wrestling the string out of its beak, says Asia. It didn’t let me get close enough. I’m surprised you didn’t run and tackle it, I say. That’s a very Asia thing to do. Those things have sharp beaks, says Asia, and there were children present – I have to try to be a good role model and not manhandle wildlife. My friend was willing to help but she had a baby, she says. That’s fair, I say. You’re the one who rescues snapping turtles from the highway, right? I had a rain coat, says Asia. I had nothing: just my soft hands against cormorant knife beak, says Asia.
I like skulls. I like mostly human skulls because I feel for my humanity as a momento mori but sometimes I dream dinosaur or bird skulls. I dream myself with a bladed beak and I cut through other heads to reach the hard surfaces of their skulls. The valley of ben hinnom many bird skulls and their beaks cluster into bundles ben bodies and bone forests. Birds flock forests alive and dead.
I prophesy crucifixion: Book crucifies Ben Adam and Ben Hinnom in bird forests Birds sharpen beaks on ben bodies
I prophesy quiet crucifixion quite silence and silence and darklight at noon silence Crucifixions eclipse crucifixions through god with sun bird beak Beak bites quiet new simplicity and a simple sea
Vision and Mysticism 