Bud Powell Pink Turns To Blue, Part 2

Bud Powell pink turns to blue Bud Powell pink elephants on parade Parade pulse blue pink Philip K. Dick desert blue

Of the blue, purple, and crimson yarns they made finely worked vestments for ministry in the holy place; they made the sacred vestments for Aaron as the LORD had commanded Moses. He made the ephod of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of twisted linen. Gold leaf was hammered out and cut into threads to work into blue, purple, and crimson yarns and the finely twisted linen, in skilled design. They made for the ephod shoulder pieces, joined to it at its two edges. The decorated band on it was of the same materials and workmanship, of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and fine twisted linen, as the LORD had commanded Moses.

Bud Powell pink turns to blue (A woman in a pink blouse sits in a chair as Dr. Williams, standing beside her, attached an electrical device to her head)

Pink blots blue blots pink parade bebop… Cut into pink and blue bleeds out. I continue into the cut and difference differences – different blues and pinks.
Blue disintegrate saint use tackling invoke how kiss touched mushroom taste
Pink disintegrates posterior realistically nightgown stranger
(Nightgown blue, purple, and crimson yarns)
Cut blue bebop / pink in the pocket get up like a sex machine

Bottomless blue – bottomless pit blue Bottomless bottle blue phantom butcher blues Bottomless butcher blues (I follow Bud Powell blue – blustery blizzard pink guts decorated blues. Blue balloon butterfly. Butter bottomless. Bottomless bitter pink elephants on parade. Parade blue imbued pink – blue bottomless parade bodies. Milk and honey sketch jaded garden lover serve loves legless.)

There are different kinds of discontinuity. Continuities free to repeat or leave things out.
Leave out blue leaves out pink
Repeat blue and repeat pink

Different kinds of continuity increase the large form – large scale – large duration. Whatever I do becomes melody.

Bud Powell pink turns blue / whatever I do becomes melody

//
Everything I do becomes melody

Horizon opens her wide word wild hunt (horizon hunts the dream open unfinished forest)

At horizon now: endless pink and bottomless pink within the hunt. At the horizon now becomes melody within the horizon: horizons within horizons blue corridors: pink hallways – purple plane yarn laboratories. In the instant I exist in the horizon, the directions and instructions of my body exist: flesh to make vestments and coverings pink door projecting the laser blue door bottomless pink – blue – pink among horizontal bodies. Line up bodies to score the melody / graph my body genderfluid and liquid pink nonbinary. Horizons reveal the myth of a woman – first man and first woman – Ben Adam and Ben Lydia, Blue Eva triple male androgynous. The horizon always leads to body myth and hunt narratives. My body bears the marks of hunting magic and I redraw the magic and marks into melody (Bud Powell pink into blue – blue, crimson, and purple vestments for the quartet and trio).

Horizon opens her wide word wild hunt (horizon hunts the dream open unfinished forest)
The open forest / the doors of the horizon are thrown back unfinished forest
I throw the doors into the desert – I throw the desert into the doors bedeviled dust horizon

At the pink and blue of the horizon, everything I do becomes melody
//

Bud Powell pink turns blue Bud did down well right Bud bottomless blue blends when blue
Face stone allaround vociferation understanding voice vav vav sonic boom

Of the blue, purple, and crimson yarns, they made finely worked vestments, for the ministering in the holy place; they made the sacred vestments for Aaron, as the LORD commanded Moses. He made the ephod of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of fine twisted linen. Gold leaf was hammered out and cut into threads to work into the blue, purple, and crimson yarns and into the fine twisted linen, in skilled design. They made for the ephod shoulder pieces, joined to it at its two edges. The decorated band on it was of the same materials and workmanship, of gold, of blue, purple, and crimson yarns, and of twisted linen, and the LORD commanded Moses. And the LORD commanded Moses. And the LORD commanded Moses.

I narrate horizon colors and horizontal colors; I voice horizon canvas and its blue and crimson carve shaped canvas. I narrate shaped canvas. I narrate shaped colors and carved colors and bottomless blue breathes oceanic myth. Myth the leaf its blue and myth made was fine two purple. Myth hammered twisted myth purple twisted edges.

Narrate shoulder pieces joined to workmanship melody Narrate melody of fine twisted linen and the same materials and crimson yarns

Different kinds of continuity increase large form – language scale – large duration – whatever I do is melody. Whatever I prophesy becomes melody and whatever I create harmonized and orchestrated melody.
Blue harmolodics
Pink punk coordinate musics
Horizon moment form
Horizon different kinds of dis/continuity

Different kinds of continuity dis/continuous melody melodies
Suspend place touch dare zoom rise introduce jaded
Floral write treasure balk inspire juggle pause present frighten

Narrative and myth harmolodics – horizon harmolodics – Narrate different cut different myths
Gold leaf was terrific cut out and cut into treads to work into the blue
They made for the ephod troubled pieces, geodesic to it at its two edges

I’m thinking about getting a blue horse tattoo, says Asia. Like Franz Marc? Yes. Yes! I love his work. Where would you get it? Probably on my arm… It will be based off the one from Brown Bear, Brown Bear, says Asia.

Blue horses cut my head hauntology (Horses in my dream, like waves like the sea) Blue horses my head different kinds of continuity Horses drag blue melodies harmolodic blue horses (Everything I do prophesies melodies blue horses yarn fine twisted linen in skilled design)

Bud Powell pink turns to blue Boom Bud Powell powder show solar cells

Bud Powell commands make the ephod shoulder pieces, joined to it blue horses Ben Lydia blue horses (rode a horse around the world along the tracks of a train)

Bud Powell possesses Ben Adam and Ben Eva and every human – Child of Humanity – creates melodies and becomes melodies

Different kinds of continuity
Suspend place touch frightens pink and blue horses
Yes set I’m tattoo setting
Where cut Mark blue brown arm

Whatever I do becomes melody. I mean the melody subtly pressuring the harmony – blue horse harmolodics – to give it direction. Harmony and blue harmolodics.

Bottomless blue boom Bud Powell salt surgery
Vociferous body valley vision vav vowel vav variations
Variations vociferous luminiferous aether vice her sounding
Riverrun sonar bar alarm

Blue inflated Bud Powell pink turns to blue Blue pressures pink into the body horizontal and body horizon

There Are Different Kinds Of Continuity

There are different kinds of continuity
Different continuities continue difference continuities
All the sounds counted

All the sounds counted, were all valued, rather than being functional in the sense that they got you from one point to another

The young man went out and the angel went with him, and the dog came out with him and went along with them. So they both journeyed along, and when the first night over took them they camped by the Tigris River. Then the young man went down to wash his feet in the Tigris River. Suddenly a large fish leapt up from the water and tried to swallow the young man’s foot, and he cried out. But the angel said to the young man, ‘Catch hold of the fish and hang on to it!’ So the young man grasped the fish and drew it up on the land.

I fear narrative and exact repetition but I gain a kind of purposeful – directionless direction – by repeating the narrative again and again. At some point it becomes ritual and scripture. Book becomes the Benedictine Daily Office and its repetitions reveal chrism and baptism (Although rarely do I Christian – I almost never pray unless one calls this writing praying. I attended my church on Healing Sunday and I prayed for healing with my priest. She laid hands over me and anointed me with oil book crushes my body Christ in repeated narrative.)

Cut more than needs to be cut. Repeat more than what needs to be repeated.

I went out with the rainbow and red is greener than purple for sure
My body more red and red-green and yellow-green and red
More and red blue and blue and red
Red is greener than purple for sure

All the sounds counted and I count words and letters – all ciphers

Asia, there are different kinds of continuity
(Can I send you some writing? I say to Asia. I’m butting my head against something. Sure, she says. I give the disclaimer it might not be comprehensible. […] It’s got a nice rhythm to it, says Asia. Thanks for reading, I say. I am asking the question – a forbidden question – do I need to understand my own writing? I don’t understand myself. What happens if I don’t limit it to have to understand it? What comes out of it? Perhaps a self I don’t know. Or even a self not me, I say. No, you don’t need to understand it, says Asia. You contain multitudes.)
Asia, there are different kinds of continuity (different continuities continue different continuities)

There are times in the music where one is free to repeat things or cut things or leave things out and so forth

The young man went out and the angel went with him; and the dog came out with him and went along with them. So they both journeyed along, and when the first night overtook them, they camped by the Tigris River. Then the young man went down to wash his feet in the Tigris River. Suddenly a large fish leapt up from the water and tried to swallow the young man’s foot and he cried out. But the angel said to the young man, ‘Catch hold of the fish and haunt on to it!’ So the young man grasped the fish and drew it up the land.

I repeat apostasy. I repeat heresy and apostasy. I repeat gospel and apostolic succession. Repeat different continuities: free to repeat.
Free to repeat the them man swallow
Free to repeat went the hang man they went down young
Cut things the and feet he so angel

Disclaimer it to me having to understand it…

You don’t limit it might not me…

Disclaimer: discontinuity. The tension between continuity and discontinuity. I fear (too much) discontinuity. Things fall apart and the center cannot hold but I attempt to hold onto no center. No direction and no center: all the sounds count. There are times in the music where one is free to repeat things or cut them or leave things out and so forth. Tension is best measured when it’s down and the tree tumbled down tumbled down. I tumble down the tree – its Tree of Life and Tree of Knowledge – and one seed eventually all repetition leads one to the tree (my tree – her tree – tree transformed into the caught fish). Disclaimer: I hold onto no center but I catch hold of the fish and hand out to it. Different kinds of continuity continue discontinuities. I continue into the cut and difference differences. I continue repeat differences.

Disclaimer: and you don’t need to me having the disclaimer to it

Disclaimer: no, you don’t need to understand it. You contain multiples.

(Can I send you some stomach? Us comments my head spatially something. Sure. Take the disclaimer it might not be comprehensible. It’s just a nice rhythm to it… No you don’t need feed to understand it. You contain marginalia.)

Maximum dimension and maximum non-direction Multiple metamorphoses / Kafka khora metamorphoses myth developing variations

I fear repetition and narrative. I fear plot because I have deceived myself that I cannot write plot or read plot. The last novel I read – many years ago – were Spring Snow by Yukio Mishima and Ada Or Ardor by Vladimir Nabokov. Since then, I have read no novels – mostly poetry, philosophy, and mystical and religious books. I claim I don’t have the attention for plot and narrative – I need vignettes and fragments and philosophical episodes – but I limit myself (I don’t limit it might not me no you don’t limit it might not me no you don’t limit it to it you contain multitudes). Where my fear is, there is my task – anything I have done well is worth letting go of. I steal myth and narratives from the Bible and other spiritual sources. I find my faiths by stealing and repeating narratives. I repeat the narratives and I eat the narratives (Asia teaches the lines: Ink runs from the corners of my mouth / there is no happiness like mine. / I have been eating poetry.)

Repeat narrative more than necessary and create discontinuities more than necessary. Fail with narratives and discontinuities. Be incomprehensible to the self – the Ben-Self and Divine-Self.

The young man went out and the angel went with him; and the dog came out with him and went along with them. So they both journeyed along, and when the first night overtook them they camped by the Tigris River. Then the young man went down to wash his feet in the Tigris River. Suddenly a large fish leapt up from the water and tried to swallow the young man’s foot, and he cried out. But the angel said to the young man, ‘Catch hold of the fish and hang on to it!’ So the young man grasped the fish and drew it up on the land.

There are different kinds of continuity

I Decide In My Madness To Fail

The instant of decision must actually be mad and meet madness Moshe parting Red Sea
Red Sea reed sea salts
Salt Sodom and Gomorrah / Sodom YHVH Yam Suph

Yam Suph seed seer seaweed word a long ship whistle duration San Francisco I seaweed San Francisco flesh unformed bodies alcohol alchemy

I decide in my madness faith to fail. I contemplate two quotations: “Anything you have done well is worth letting go of” by photographer Joel Meyerowitz and “Where your fear, there lies your task,” by CG Jung. I fear exact repetition and narrative. Book demands the uncomfortable, the fear, the danger – liminal and threshold. Where my fear is – repeating narrative and repeating myth – there lies my task. Fail with Book by Book and abandon Book by Book, and Book always-already betrays the Book. Book demands experiment – exploration – change change – fail. Book demands the experiment to failure.

They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a great distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud. They tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They saw with him seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him for they saw his suffering was great.

I fear narrative and exact repetition. I fail by or in repeating the exact narrative, but perhaps narrative transform into a ritual or spell.

The instant of decision must actually meet mad and I mad decide too much juggling journaling human jaws (A separate notebook to collect bare unadorned facts? As if I need to start another notebook)

I decide to tune into a process that’s going somewhere, and my arrival and departure points decide narrative and exact repetition of sitting with the Book seven days and seven nights. I don’t know what’s in-between – perhaps failure but I hope it’s a failure that surprises.

Think of something entirely different – think of failure and this failing threshold differently
Different dense goosegrass
Different dense gooseflesh greaseballs
Goose god no glue but sounds as sounds sound god goose

//
Arrival and departure points meet me mad in sea of reeds

I part by the decision of the red sea reeds sea salts (I should shave the sides of my head, says Asia. And get an eyebrow piercing. I’ll make a decision when I’ve had more than four hours of sleep, she says.)

I part by the decision by the decision and of the decision and the departure and arrival points repeat narrative to the point of failure

They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a great distance, they did not recognize him, and they raised their voices and wept aloud; they tore their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with him seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to him, for they saw his suffering was very great.

Cut more than you think you need to cut. Repeat more than you think you need to repeat. Shave down the sides of the Book and pierce the Book with mad failure and mad decisions. I sleep for four hours and then wake up to write the Book.

(Will anyone read the exact repetitions or skip over them? Will I copy and paste or write it out manually each time? Does the difference matter when the process doesn’t reveal itself on the page? I live with repetition and I abide in repetition.)

I abide a tore him to met distance I repeat together they robes the for to did

Where my fear, foresaw and recognize dust Foresaw four hours: quarters quarters quarters

Arrival and departure points meet me in the mad decision of the sea
//

The instant of decision meets in sea improvisation and spontaneous sea

Improvisation: one plays what one already knows
Improvisation impulse part pulse aleatoric

How to play what one doesn’t know: failure. Incessant failure. Failure repetition. Mad decisive failure. Fail when making a decision after getting four hours of sleep (So where’s your eyebrow piercing? I say. When I went to go get the piercing, the piercer talked me into getting an ear cartridge piercing saying that the eyebrow piercing would be rejected because of my glasses. The piercing she talked me into ended up getting rejected because of my glasses. I’m only a little salty… One day I will go to a different piercer, she says). How to play when one doesn’t know: failure.
Part pulse aleatoric alligator
Aleatoric impossible alligator
Glass glass glam different dense

I mad chance sea chance sea / red sea reed sea salts Yam Suph seers seaweed word a long ship while the duration San Francisco (mad because will to ear of of go so cartridge my my to)

A decision always comes back to the other – a decision always comes back to YHVH and crucifixions
(decide go cartridge
decide get piercing glasses
decide the saying piercing only different)

A decision always comes back to KRYSXTRYN +Asia Rhizome Her name Her bodies body multiply Marie Her Christina in perhaps a more material crucifixion

(I decide to write and prophesy the women in my life. I decide to write and prophecy undecidable the women in my life. She lights the lights my flowing faith / my faith flux fluxus dada desert.)

//
I should eventually invite scribal errors, scribal fatigue, marginalia, and emendations. Mimic hypotheses for the synoptic problem. I live in Gospel and Bible. I live in Book and Library. Library repeats Library and Book repeats Book. I scribe scripture and I prophesy scripture. I scribe sabbath and transcribe / transform-transmute Shekinah.

Saturnine Shekinah ringlets Sabbath

They met together to go and console and comfort him. When they saw him from a distance, they did not reorganize him, and they did not recognize him, and they raided their voices and wept aloud; their robes and threw dust in the air upon their heads. They sat with her on the ground seven days and seven nights, and no one spoke a word to her, for they saw her suffering was very great.

I repeat apostasy. I repeat heresy and apostasy. I repeat gospel and apostolic succession.

I repeat when they saw when their voices air upon the air upon upon they saw his suffering was great… I meet with the Book and I fail with (by? to?) the Book… I lose the instant of decision decide failure. I decide failure. I sit and mourn failure… Dead end the instant of decision must actually meet mad and I meet madness and repetition dead end.
//

The instant of decision… An instant I fail and the momentum instantaneous sea. Instantaneous improvised sea. I have been thinking of something entirely different and I don’t know the process. I don’t know process and that’s going on somewhere. I don’t know what’s between them. I don’t know now what’s between this – and this – and this – these.

Improvisation: one plays what one already knows…

How do I play what I don’t know How do I play something else and something different I play science fiction complete sessions… Play what I don’t know between Arrival points – departure points – madness Instantly mad decision (The piercing she talked me into ended up getting rejected because of my glasses. I’m only a little salty about it)

All decisions decide on faith: faith pierced by faith and decision departing and arriving to decision

I Draw These Letters That Reveal Pando

I draw these letters as the day draws its images and blows over them and does not return

I do return but guard rhizome makes (Therefore a man leaves his father and mother and clings to his wife, and they become one flesh.  And the man and woman were both naked and not ashamed / and they crucified him and divided his clothes among them casting lots to decide what each should take)

I do not return but my naked rhizome ejaculates sap Tree of Knowledge.  Knowledge always crucifies.  Knowledge always crucifies naked and my myth naked cleaves to my myth naked double gnosis.  I do not return but gnarl gnosis into my spinal column and pelvis.

I draw these letters and the day draws its images and from the second Elohim until the third, five words appear
(Five words appear     Five words appear appear words apparitions     Five words appear architect     Five words and words appearance architecture)
I draw these letters stele naked – nude now divided by lots – stele shellac these draw Elohim two or three Elohim


//
I draw written rewritten

Written rewritten rewrite this again (again rewire dune her this she)

Written rewritten wreckage disappeared wreckage rewritten (impossible alternate alternate reality game rewritten)

I draw myself doomed – I feel doomed – doom X doom     Doom hidden big fuck shadows / UFO tornado (I feel feel felt fold feel doom)

I draw doom doom worry door open my hand dives my hand death tingles paralysis (my hand loop hands blue dying)
	My hands hurts in draw
	My hand pains me
	My hand hurts draw letters
//


I draw these letters naked Elohim and Elohim door doom and Elohim fine words drawn

I draw the letters they compelled this man to carry his cross and when they came to the place called Golgotha (which means place of a skull), they offered him wine to drink, mixed with gall; but when he tasted it, he would not drink it

What draws you to the term “Pando” to describe our friendship?  Trees, says Asia. […] I think I brought it up as a metaphor and you really liked it and it stuck […] As in I like Pando as a term and description.  I just feel like you overanalyze it and ask me to overanalyze it.  I think it’s cool but it deeply resonates with you so maybe you should be asking why you feel drawn to it, says Asia.

I drawn these letters you should be asking when you feel drawn to it     Draws Pando place called Golgotha
	Place of a skull salt pit sketch stone
	Draw place of a skull salt malt halt halting problem prostitution

I draw these letters and the day draws it so maybe you really liked it and dissecting what
	This why raw.  This why draw letters – letters stone Elohim and 
	cast lots letters crucifixions.  This why we draw:  Pando Elohim
	and Pando naked and it draws the images trees.
I draw letters place of a skull sacred prostitution

I describe the drawing trees sun Pando

I draw Pando letter myth naked crucifixion mythology (a time will come when people will think I’m a myth or rather something newspapers have made up)
	I draw trees I’m myth
	Draw Pando mythologies mixed with mercury mythology drawn Pando
Myth newspaper collage acrylic dripped over newspaper

What draws sea to the niff “Pando” to graveyard our friendship?  Trees, says Asia.  Also why do we keep dissecting this?  I think cruelty up and a metaphor and you really jigged it and it stuck. […] As in I like Pando ash niff and descriptor […] I think it’s cool but it deeply resonates with you so maybe you bluets be indeed why you dead drawn to it)

What draws me to Pando trees, roots, rhizomes.  Our underground root system.  I do not return but gnarls naked rhizome.  Pando permeates rhizome always eluding interruption, and every rupture in our friendship causes new buds and roots and stems to flow forth.  Pando draws me to the community and communal creativity of our friendship.

I draw these letters and the day draws its images and blows over them and does not return
	I return and do not return
	I draw and do not draw
Pando draws the letters and Pando names the name Elohim.  Pando calls the male and female naked, and the Woman mothers all living (I return and do not return to living).  Pando names the name Elohim: Pando five words from Elohim double blossom crucifixions.

I draw the letters and I concentrate on the letter-images many stems     Draw letters holy meditations / permutations of the concealed Pando name     Draw images – image root stem god drawings
	I draw god letters Pando lagoon

I think of Pando and our histories, I say.  Our stories.  Our myths.  Our narratives.  Pando isn’t one thing.  Our friendship isn’t one thing.  But today I think of our history and our overcoming of conflicts and how our friendship prophesies.  That’s our roots entangled too, I say.  That’s a good way to put it, says Asia.

Our friendship prophesies god letters / place of the skull     Our friendship prophesies that’s our history and our histories   our story and our history and our history and how our roots entangled too

I draw these letters and the day draws its images from the second Elohim

Prophesy The Most Carnal Body

Don’t bother with transitions – no embarrassment. No embarrassment, not even for Noah who laid drunk naked. He should have cursed the sons that covered him and not the son of Ham. Don’t bother with cringe or embarrassment but prophesy the most naked and carnal bodies.

I prophesy my naked body and my naked body shames and embarrasses. My naked body embarrasses but this embarrassment and nudity does not exist separate from this Ben – Total Ben and All Ben and Complete Ben. I prophesy my exposed insecurities and anxieties and my bipolar depression and hypomania. I prophesy myself without transitions and without cringe.

Don’t bother with cringe or embarrassment but prophesy the most naked and carnal bodies (Body transition transition bridal chamber The chamber of my body resembles single-action revolver curtains No embarrassment my body is my body and I am my body total)

Do you ever wonder am I real? I ask Asia. Do I exist? Where am I? I do not exist. I should be vanishing at any moment. I am vapor. I am hevel, I say. Like that you aren’t specifically real or that none of us are real? says Asia. Me, I’m not real, I say. Like I’m not the me that’s me. I look in the mirror and I don’t look real. It looks like someone else’s face even though I recognize logically it’s my face but it feels disconnected. Like I’m too aware of my own thoughts and my consciousness is aware of my consciousness and I don’t feel real in my consciousness. I think you’re probably real. Your love for me feels real. Your Pando wavelength feels real, I say. If you can experience something as real then doesn’t that make you real? says Asia. Well, I’m real but I’m not Ben. Sometimes, I mean. I felt that last night. Like my consciousness doesn’t belong to this body or my body feels surreal or not quite real, I say. Your brain is making a stranger out of you because it wants to escape the distress, says Asia. “If that’s not me, I can’t feel it” kind of thing. I’ve experienced that feeling before. Back when I was really depressed and anxious, I would look in the mirror and feel like I was a dead person. Like it wasn’t me, says Asia. Yes, this is it, I say. I have been feeling it more lately. I feel like I’m becoming too hyperconscious and I feel disconnected a lot. Be gentle with yourself, says Asia. You’re still alive, I promise you. I was still alive. You aren’t seeing dead eyes – just very tired eyes, she says. Do you think you still unconditionally love some essential Ben? I say. It’s all Ben, says Asia. It’s all Ben? I say. So you unconditionally love all Ben which includes unnreal Ben, I say. Yeah, says Asia.

Don’t bother with embarrassment but prophesy the most naked and carnal bodies No embarrassment – my body is my body is mine wholly body total – wholly Ben total No embarrassment or embellishment of body but this is my body given for you

My body shifts practice making landscape landscape flesh and no escape from my flesh but field feminine in my nude nude body shifts practice her tonality (her tonality a hard movement of the word – world words – worlds) Between movement, my nude body martian chaos / tonal taryn topography (God doesn’t embarrass me nor Taryn but my own feelings, anxieties, and insecurities embarrass me. I don’t bother with transitions but it’s all Ben – Ben Kindred and Pando and Prophet)

//
My body shifts no transition transition body embarrassment

My body transitions Yod Hay Vav Hay hastes dream and terrors in various arrays desert developing variation Desert developing variations arrays strange disconnected am recognize I’m out a I logically Desert descends Yod Hay Vav Hay a stranger out of us aren’t ben – it’s all ben? -- you aren’t me, I can – experience somethink yourself your Pando – desert developing variation

Yod Hay Vav Hay bands my embarrassing body without organs happenings (I happen rhizomic right her nude arrays and naked armies – I prophesy naked armies my body entirely nude – ben nude descending door a staircase)

Taryn nudes voice upon the mighty waters nude wide waters / wide wild word…

My body shifts no transition or transition body embarrassment
//

Don’t bother transitions or turnarounds but drone one blues

I drone one blues. Blues love for me feels surreal in you. I drone one blues in that you can’t seeing dead person and I drone like I’m really aren’t real. One blues drone still alive and I was real but feels distress. I was real in that naked any movement – any moment drone and drone blue blues one and no turnaround. I was real in any moment I am vapor. I am I. Drone one blues I am I. Where I am real is in the disconnectedness. I am not disconnected and my face ever wonders hevel.

Don’t bother with transitions or turn-a-rounds but drone one blues blues blues bo diddly beat Don’t bother but dance rhythms and do not let the rhythms embarrass Sustain my body in blues drone forever

Don’t Bother With Transitions

Don’t bother with transitions – Mount Tabor transfigures instantaneously

(Above the stand of God… Not Elohim but El, the name of the head of the pantheon in Canaanite mythology, a god who was early identified with the Lord in Israelite thought…
Mount of Assembly: Mountain where the council of gods meet, according to Canaanite mythology
Zaphon: the sacred mountain of Baal, originally to Jebel El-Aqua, North of Uragit; other mountains have been identified with it, including Mount Zion)

Don’t bother with transitions but meet Mother of the Living on the Mount of Assembly

Without transition, terrifying transformation / transformations The film is not shot but built

The film is not shot but built / the Book is not written but constructed

Terrifying transformation plays the tarot Fool and Fool experiment the edge between falling and flying. At the edge of the earth, I witness Word Wheel in the middle of a Wheel. I transform transition-no-transition through the wheel unraveled into beach sand spirals. At the edge of the earth, I embody Fool and meet Elohim at the Mount of Assembly.

Don’t bother with transitions – Mount Tabor transfigures instantaneously No interval or duration but present-absent instant

I’ve been meaning to show you this horrendous roller coaster I saw in Tennessee, says Asia. It’s called the Rocky Top Mountain Coaster and it’s just a roller coaster jutting out of the side of the mountain on the side of the road… Pigeon Forge was awful. I have never seen a more white looking, soulless tourist trap – and all the fucking Jesus billboards, says Asia.

Above the stars of El, the Mount of Assembly Assembly

Don’t bother with transitions. No transitions but something stuck. Stuck in Book sea or Book endless interior labyrinth cathedrals. What am I doing here? The here of the Book without transitions but El and Elohim continually interrupt the surface of the Book. Book without transition but I’m stuck on the endless chain lifts of the Rocky Top Mountain Roller Coaster. Don’t bother knowing why I’m here – always here cosmic horror and garden of forking paths, and the Book and the garden are identical. The Book and the Palm Tree Garden are identical but embedded in mystery and the cipher King Felix. Book hides in the endless pulp and dime novels, and I’m stuck searching for my location in the Book in the lurid Book covers and sexploitation films (Days of temptation – nights of desire – and wild parties – in an exotic love colony Fleshpots Of Malibu). Book becomes the Mountain where gods meet – mountain of the cannibal god. Book builds up pulp and the Book is not shot but built.

Don’t bother with transitions – Mount Tabor transfigures instantaneous no interval or duration but present-absent instant (Instant scale and large no duration Instant scale fly into your room in large packs, break your shit for no reason, then leave as quickly as they came)

Don’t bother with transitions – jump juggernaut blues knot Arpeggios, tricky hopscotch through scorched earth

Don’t bother but built up from the separate strips of celluloid that are its raw material (I don’t bother but I build blonde. Build tilted figures embedded in scorched earth. Built tilted figure ground by accretion width the addition of short straight lines, and sprouting figures. Built no transitions but knots garden of forking paths.)

Don’t bother but bother (saw roller coaster the looking in jutty road) Don’t bother but bother (it’s out forget tourists been called the was trap)

Don’t bother tricky hopscotch through scorched earth At earth edge edgeless through the star-studded sky / the circled clouds, fires, and suns collect and congregate wheel in the middle of the wheel

I listen to the song “The Wailing and Gnashing of Teeth” by Black Sheep Wall: I’m sorry Dan I’m doing what I can we let you down again fuck this band I’m sorry Dan, this city stole my plans gave them to people I can’t stand fuck this band… Fuck this Book. I can’t figure it out. It bewilders me and it traps me, and I cannot escape the Book. I cannot scale the Book its ages full of stars and gods. The Book erodes mountains and large pack parakeets and Book scorches earth fucked bodies. Fuck this band / fuck this Book and gods gruppen my body stochastic crowds. My body erodes with Book and corrodes roller coasters fall on my chain lift chain lift Book shaker chairs. I don’t know what to do with this Book. I treat it as something apophatic, impossible gnosis – or a hidden gnosis and gnosis ciphers. I continue the interwoven congregations and texts – don’t bother with transitions but I continue writing the Book. I continue prophesying the Book bare mountains / mountain of the cannibal god.

There is a funny rock at my grandma’s house with a hole in it, says Asia. The hole is just big enough for a child to stick their foot in. My mother’s grandma stole it from the Rocky Mountains, and she told my mom that it was magic, and that if you stick your foot in it, you can make a wish, says Asia.

Don’t bother with transitions – Mount Tabor transfigures instantaneously No interval or duration but present-absent instant Don’t bother but bother (bother butter automobiles railroad track margarine

Don’t bother – Book fucks anyways

I Almost Abandon The Alphabet

I almost abandon the alphabet but I reabsorb the alphabet and alphabets into the inner conjunctiva of my eyes. My eye enters entrance entirely body and my body burrows eye alphabet.

My body becomes a holy procession that pauses the games and crosses over the divided Jordan River and the skull splits and reassembles river-sea sea-river blessing rituals The body entirely eye and entirely skull blesses game earth and playful earth (placing oneself in a position where one is thus transversed, broken, and fucked by the socius, looking for the right place where, according to the aims and interests assigned to us, one feels something moving that had neither an interest or purpose)

My body travels narrow bands of pottery / my body trades funnelbreakers and decorated houses

(I place my skull embedded in socius – social maternal – black iron prison – skull pharmakon klang catalog)

//
I almost abandon the alphabet but my skull reabsorbs alphabet pierced through my eyes

Alto skull stack backpack backtrack

April alto skull single sibyl sibling skull. Slip alto altogether skull ball nail nail and ask smo sel see at skull. Alto one skull skull symbol of the lid sin. Skull alto slit sly and the banshees of his abandoned eyes.

Skirt slit skull soul all ask end aid be before brute skull soul gh get an ash. Skull slide slit skirt up to her here. Her get alto music skull soul funk all.

I almost abandon the alphabet but my skull reabsorbs Alphabet pierced through my eyes
//

My body travels narrow bands of pottery / my body trades funnelbreakers and decorated houses

My body remains strange and my skull remains strange as navigating the Book zaps onto the labyrinthine interior of my skull. My skull stranger stills strange skull, and out of its elements of the cosmic machinery beard a strong resemblance to traditional pictorial representation of the wheel in the middle of the wheel described in the vision of the Hebrew prophet Ezekiel.

My skull strange stills inside prophetic visions and visionary magnetism (I descend to the throne and I never escape the mystical divine and my embedded tradition in the Christian Bible).

As I watched a great stormwind came out of the north (North; Zaphon, the traditional abode of the gods) (Zaphon, Philip K. Dick’s Zebra and Zion: the mystical mountain of the gods) (He stretches Zaphon over the void and suspends the earth on nothing at all / from the Zaphon the golden splendor comes, surrounding god’s awes one majesty.)

I almost abandon the alphabet but I have to find a method to have these disparate sections hold together. I never abandon the alphabet or the Book and my skull stranger attempts a kind of large scale of this writing and witness. My skull strange stitches nonlinear interaction of ocean surface waves with the atmosphere. Book entire atmosphere unites itself with subterranean alphabets: alphabet upside-down Zaphon and descending Zaphon and alphabets atmosphere wheel in the middle of the wheel. In this wheel in the middle of a wheel, my skull strange in fire music. Fire salts my skull and skull sheds fiery skin skull salts.

I love the phrase skull salts, says Asia. I don’t know why that’s what my skull grabbed onto. I want to scrub out the inside of my skull with salt, she says.

My body travels narrow bands of pottery / my body trades funnelbreakers and decorated houses

My body travels grabbed onto I what to scrub out her phrase skull With salt don’t know why that’s what my brain grabbed onto My body travels scrub out know why that’s what’s why brainside inside to I don’t I don’t I why to I why to ill brain skull salts

Travel decorated houses house north north Zaphon upside-down into earths earthy (A terrifying trip through the soul jazz clubs, big farre sex clubs, and sinister voodoo clubs of London’s seething SoHo scene! Black Is The Color)

My body travels the long conjunction of the words: the conjunction of bodies. Body travels body to body and body onto body, and each body lily the phrase drank salts. I don’t know why that’s what my brain grabbed ugly. I sock to stray out the indie of the drunk with salt. My body travels with salt and the salt of the earth descends earthly and earth and skull of the earth. I scrub the earth with skull salts.

I Do Not Drown The Book

I do not drown the Book but I water the language I water languages thirsty ground thirsty ear the blue series I drown the Book dark car desert I drown Book dark car cadmium desert / canary coy bodies Coy koi bodies (Wheeled vehicle representation Wheel her men represents bubonic plague)

Book appears in the prophetic quiet signaling quiet and this quiet keeps the Body slinking sheets of sound. I dream the Book flood and earthquake, and the library stirs tsunami. Book appears in paradoxically prophetic time, and this time makes space for the loud-quiet and light-dark. Book keeps dark catacombs and Book bones and bones body Ben Adam. Book builds up Book quiet catacombs / as above so below

//
Water the languages. Water languages and language loops shadow-water and space-dark times and times.

Let darkness and the shadow of death stain: death stains big stars Death stains not waving but drowning

I do not drown the Book but I drown big sound I wave big words and I drown big sounds I drown big star shatter desert drone (Death stains the desert hum I hum a hopeless yet absurd death)

Water me the languages death and death and death: water languages shadow drown and shadow drone and drone not waving but drowning
//

I do not drown the Book but I water the language I water languages thirsty ground (I fill my skull with water and I pour out water mixed with bits of brain and bone onto languages)

I do not drown the Book but I drown my skull and my skull overflows cryptic scriptures and desert coptic scriptures (watery gnosis and abyss)

Met a lady with a prosthetic leg who lived in sailboat with her leash trained cat who liked to swim, says Asia. Her sailboat was pink and she had a pink backpack just for carrying her cat. And she had this cool skull decal on her prosthetic leg. I want to be her. Be right back, gotta chop my leg off, says Asia.

I do not drown the Book but I drown my skull I drown my skull dark cadmium desert / prosthetic who a skull chop I water languages a thirsty skull and she has this cool skull decal on her carrying her leash

I drown my skull dark car desert I drown skull dark car cadmium desert / skull mine birds con canaries I drown my skull was with leg chop lady I drown skull back for had to her just skull I drown skull cadmium her carrying her leash trained cat Canaries sailboat pink prosthetic leg off carrying her carrying

I grow Book sustained silence and silences and quiet waters and quieter skull waters. I grow the Book the sustained sound-silence and silent-sound. Out of waters and silence, the growing cranium of the Book. I’m after that long sound – I’m looking for that silence reverberating in my skull. My skull larger and larger sustains cessation of sound.

Not a cure with a prosthetic leg who coral in a sailboat with her leash scoured cat who maxis be swim. Her sailboat was pink and let a pink backpack just for carrying her cat and she let this cook skull decal on her prosthetic leg. I want to be her. Be right back, gotta chop my leg off.

I drown the Book dark art desert and the people divide into two groups in opposition to each other, and begin the ritual of rival tribes People divide into two groups in opposition (A revealing case-history report on the frightening growth of female delinquents Girls And Hangs)

//
I water the languages and I carve up the language fuckers I carve rabid live language stains dark and I dig dark / central park in the dark Central park in the dark deepens additional dark and her dark stains shadow of death

Her dark stains my skull shadow of death and she had flip skull rootkit on her transfuse leg Dark stains gotta chop my leg any

I carve up the languages fucked and Book stains my skull: I fear the repetition of this skull and this skull drowning, so I distract myself and waste time. I try to find one of my favorite Jenna Marbles videos since made private (“Drunk Magic, published July 1, 2015). I listen to Anything, Anything to Dramarama. I almost contemplate extending the sound-silence of drowning skulls to work and practice the long form and long duration. I strangely miss Asia although I talk to her all the time. I miss Taryn who has been busy trying to finish her nurse practitioner program. I would like to write her more again when she completes it. She brings immense joy to my life when I talk to her. I carve up the language fuckers and I chop off my own leg but the Book continues to stain me with shadows (Divine Woman KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome). I carve up the languages drone or drown in Book shadows and Book early / earthly death. I listen to Ribs by Lorde: we can talk it so good we can make it so divine we talk it so good how you wish it could be all the time. I immerse myself entirely in Book shadows / stained death.

I walk through the valley of the Shadow of Death / her word darkens the day into night I walk dark sharp and sheer dark, and together, the morning is to them like deep darkness, friends with terrors of darkness

My skull outflows with shadows and darkness
//

I emerge from the Book and poured Man / Death by water and death from water (The schizophrenic deliriant lays bare the material processes of the unconscious) I water languages death and deaths, drive hive horror caverns scatters whirligig grounds

You Write It Proves Every Bit A Dream

You write it proves every bit a dream

You write every bit a dream and dreaming every You write every

You write the dream drinks the dream drop stones Dream drop stones sting flesh drop art I rationalize the dream denominator ratiocination of priests in the desert

I dream the eye as the eye and I dream the eye as her eye and I dream the eye as my eye. The razor cuts open the dazzling eye of the young and charming woman. I take her eye into my eye socket and her eye is my eye. I take her eye in my coffee spoon and her eye reflects my spoon the same eye. I spoon my eye into the coffee cup: coffee cup of the rose and rose cup of blessing resting on five fingers and five eyes chimera.

You write it proves every bit a dream and dream haunts Haunted House Christina dreams haunted house or hospice (we’ve always lived in this castle)

Every bit a dream this Christina castle and Christina eye socket canal Christina carp cut canal chrism and schism
(Look, man, I’m telling you right off the bat, I’m high maintenance, so… I’m not gonna tip-toe around your marriage, or whatever it is you’ve got going there. If you wanna be with me, you’re with me. Okay. Too many guys think I’m a concept, or I complete them, or I’m gonna make them alive. But I’m just a fucked up girl who’s looking for her own piece of mind; don’t assign me yours. I remember that speech really well. I had you pegged, didn’t I? You had the whole human race pegged. Hmm, probably. I still thought you were going to save my life… even after that. Oh... I know. It would be different, if we could give it another go around. Remember me. Try your best; maybe we can.) Every bit a dream this Christina castle and I remember Christina. I remember Christina – here and here and here (I remember Christina in the bookstore and the library and on the radio gaga and videotape. Christina remember me – it would be different if we could just give it another go around. Christina keeps the dream in the keep and karst catacombs and we’ve always lived in this castle. We live castles and changelings. I rewatch the end of Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind, and I think they reconcile and figure it out. I think they accept it might end up terribly, but they try it again anyway and reconcile successfully. I interpret it in this way because Christina and I tried again and we eventually figured it out – it took many years but we figured it out. I protest the sudden end of our friendship and cry my god my god why have you forsaken me and the spirit leaves me. If god exists – Christina knows and loves this god – fuck that god because this feels wrong. The end of the Kindred feels against the laws of nature and the laws of the universe. The Kindred has endured how long, but these eternal circumstances leaves us separate and apart and in the ravages of the unknown. Fuck whatever transcendent and insidious force – if it exists whether god or platonic mathematics – fuck that force. How wrong – the Kindred apart wrong wrong wrong.)

You write it proves every bit a dream The dream drinks the dream and I rationalize the dream denominator / dream desert delicatessen The dream drinks the very eye and the story of the eye eviscerates my own eye My eye inserts as a phallus into an anonymous eye, and the eye eros erects bronze age collapse Human eye lights spiraling from spiral nebulae galaxies distant

Every bit a dream drive deer proto-gospels: I synthesize gospel and proto-gospel syzygy / I synthesize gospel and proto-gospel a bit of dream (I dream strange dream. I dream that I remember Christina here, here, here, and here. Dream undresses and reveals proto-gospels beneath her skirt, and the skirt drops inscribed stones. The dream stones speak fiery parables and dark sayings. I say the dream and the dream speaks me.) (Am I a butterfly dreaming I’m a man.. Or a bowling ball dreaming I’m a plate of sashimi? Never assume that what you see and feel is real!)

You write it proves every bit a dream You write gospels proves every bit a dream I synthesize gospel and proto-gospel: not a gospel harmony but a gospel harmolodics Surreptitious gospel dreams secret gospel of mark / Kurt Cobain’s Journals and Jean-Michel Basquiat’s notebooks

It proves every bit a dream and I realize the dream real as the human eye. My eye spins spiral galaxies. My eye hangs low gravity and gravity low blow. I realize the dream real as the human eye and eye isolates eros and erosion. Eye erodes eros now an isolated pornographic but an essential pornographic. Eye eros eats the conducive and erosive eye. The erosion dreams the landscape always interior landscape collapses into the interior and I see through my eye real and dreams. I see a bit of eye and a bit of dream.

Human eye only eros or erosion / human eye only erodes in the excess of the erotic

Human eye only erodes (At this present time, I long only to sleep. I am sick of humanity.)

You write proves every bit a dream: I feel my human a dream and I feel human a dream I feel human real dream

I had a dream that my family in Louisiana wouldn’t let me leave until I worshiped god, says Asia. Which God? Their god the Christian god, she says. I was hoping in the dream they didn’t specify, I say. Then you could pick your own god.

Every bit a dream which God. Their god, couldn’t hat me sine waves worshiped god. Green the scrapheap god. Oh I cut desert inn I had the sleep King Felix. Then eye sleep that so madness in Louisiana could tips your own god.

Every bit a dream disintegrates disintegrates (Dreaming of God an x-ray beam, he was hit by a cab while crossing the street Lying in his bedspread, he struggled to breath The light bulbs exploded, the air filled with wings)

You write every bit a dream You write I had a tree that my mess which why god and couldn’t let me mirror until I worshiped their mess, the splendour mess

You write a bit of dream and I was family in fibers in the trees then Louisiana you could pick your mess

Human eye erodes exploding x-ray eyes. Human eye instills the chalk human eye. Human eye sidewinds cable car variations of the cross.

In the dream I pick my own god. This is how I know entirely dream. This is how I know this entirely dream. I dream stress restless god. Louisiana gods engorge the swamps. I share swamp swamps dream gods.

You write it proves every bit a dream I dream charmed into backing snow / charmer black ice armor show snow serpents Snow snapping turtle synapses chop and screw sackcloth blood clots I summer dream sackcloth secret gospel of mark: mark map sap map map couple desiring-machines

I write it proves every bit a dream

I write it proves every bit a dreamer and I bite dream dodecahedron deconstruction Dream bites wormwood awake better ben adam: ben marry mara noise naomi

I write it proves every bit a dream and I dream the work waking dream and dream in the a dream I dream a doll in a dream and a woman in trouble

It proves every bit a dream and I dream the deuteronomist redacting my brain red blood torah dream I erase scribework industrial chair crosses and I cross myself antinomian I erase dream work injected molded plastic targets tongue torah (I taste Torah embedded on my tongue; my body digests Bible and bible and bible scrolls and codexes and manuscripts. My tongue targets Taryn Torah and she redacts future river time / time the by-product of motion between two poles. My tongue tastes words: words meander time transformations and Torah tremors).

I dream time between words and I wake birds between time

I dream it proves every bit a dream Words measure the time transformations and Taryn stripteases street magic I duplicate the dream synoptic gospels downstream (I had a sleep hoping ray me. I worshiped Louisiana; their god their splendor god I sleep city god your own god.)

Woe To Those Who Have Seen The Son of Humanity

Sixth hour darkness over all the earth
Until ninth hour darkness
Veils the veil midst of darkness
Dark the Human Son

(Woe to those who have seen 
 the Son of Humanity)

Darkness over all the earth
Sun was darkness altogether in a smoke
Altogether on a smoke descended upon it in fire
Human fire smoke Child of Humanity

Altogether a smoke descended upon it in fire
Smoke ascended smoke of a furnace quakes greatly

(Blessed will you be who have
 not seen the Human One or associated
 with him, or spoken with him or
 listened to anything from him)

Altogether on a smoke descended
Third part of the sun smitten
Third part of the moon
third part of the stars third of them in darkness
Day shone for not a third

Sixth hour over all the earth
Day shone for not a third
Ninth hour darkness veils the veil
A third of night likewise

(From now on, awake or asleep,
 remember that you have seen the
 Son of Humanity, and have spoken
 with him and listened to him)

Third arose a smoke out of the pit
Smoke of a great furnace
Sun and air darkness smoke of the pit
Human One bottomless pit

(Woe to those who have seen 
 the Son of Humanity)