I Compose Imperfect Melodies

Melodies structure melodies: melodic stitch-stretch-sting sutured melodies I straddle melody and melodies…
Melodies structure melodic strata: my skin stretch strata staircases skull thimble…
Melodies treble trouble tremolo melodies (The melody doesn’t come easy to me. I plagiarize melodies from hymns, blues, and folk songs. I plagiarize Modern Times and Love And Theft. Melodies structure plagiarized melodies into plunderphonic acid trips.)

I meander between melody body geology – between harmonic melody harmon mute melody plagiarized – between meander Between meander Meander geology Geode meander archaeology Archive. Archive. Archive.

I stretch my skin as strata, sediment soused sound… Sediment soused sound letters and scaled scale between meander. I stretch my skin archive meander meander melodies…
Meridian melody / middle melody
Melodic meander meanders
Between the oceanic between

Melodies stretch melodies skin structure
(Large – our echoes / large room silence)
Silence scrapes body sketch earth strata
Strata errata: erratic silence
Silence meanders soil sound around disturbed earth (disturbed earth insists on uneven slices)

I oxbow between body geology and body archaeology, and my meanders excavate Book skin. Book molts its serpent skin and emphasizes lydian and mixolydian scales. Scales spread their talons into my body and shake the arcade tokens out of me. Scales separate my skin from my skin bowed melody Book. I oxbow between body geology and body archaeology, and I suspend the sand of its unities.

Suspend silence between silence

I suspend and erase but its incessant geologies displace upward anew: new melody renewed. Geologies displace upward anew: new wilderness mixed melodies with the decapitated heads of werebears. I mix melodies with melodic liminal earth / human body between.

Whatever my body is, it is not silence.

I’ve been thinking recently about imperfection, says Asia. About how uncomfortable we are with it and how we have ruined ourselves casting it away. At this point, embracing human imperfection is a form of rebellion, she says. Very true, I say. Like that video you sent me – making bad art on purpose to overcome our fears, expectations, art paralysis, I say. It’s deeper than that even, says Asia. So many people don’t even try to be artists because it won’t be good so why bother, but we want to be perfect too. We want to be perfectly beautiful – all these years of photoshopped models and celebrities and focusing on body image. Now we have influencers and AI making art and we fall for it. Not everyone but I can’t help but think that making ourselves appear perfect and striving for perfection made room for something inhuman – to take our place. Even poetry, I think. It’s too clean, says Asia. What does imperfect or messy poetry look like to you? I say. Like Eating Poetry, says Asia. Beware Don’t Read This Poem. Like Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye. There is something wild or raw or like some essence compressed or a stone tumbled for awhile… Maybe that last analogy doesn’t work, but you don’t control the rock – you just get to buff it. There is poetry that is essence and human, and then there is poetry that was written to be consumed, says Asia.

Whatever my body is, it is not silence

I straddle melodies – silence Silence invades my bodies silent – make room room silence root
Room room silence remover
I straddle melodies overcome with stone I meander between recently our and poetry tumbled / meander about fear focusing I for imperfection

(Imperfect melody surrenders to silence)

I stretch my skin and silence stratified how art body too that uncomfortable paralysis Sediment soused art body too silent whirlpool

My creative imperfects fuck uppercut how my body too lives in uncomfortable paralysis. It’s awhile how uncomfortable I am with my imperfection / malformed Ben Body projects malformed Book Body – I work to accept that human rebellion.

I mix melody and melodies liminal earth human body between (between my bodies, Book arclength – Book there is essence compression and human to be compression – Book arclength underneath – between)

I mix melody mad melodies machine (her machine excavates an impossible earth her machine insists on exposes earth and exposed bodies) I mix melody geology and melody archaeology and I voice its melodies earth body / mix melodies a nonlinear succession of musical tones…

Silence mix mix imperfect room
(You don’t because it work but we are on purpose
to buff it there but you?)
Silence mix mad remix like a form of rebellion about imperfect and AI making on purpose to buff it

Melodies structure melodies without structure: imperfect melodies. How uncomfortable I am with imperfection but melodies – imperfect melody meander asymmetry or strange. Uncomfortable melodies sneak at think that video you don’t work but I beware
Think that making on body image
Now we want to be compression
And human the room for

Unstructured melodies meander imperfectly. Imperfect what fuck asymmetrical funk. Imperfection infects whatever melody and I noodle frail improvisations. I meander frail improvisations and I faster here my uncountable innumerable imperfections. Whatever around here there thistle there imperfect. I straddles melodies – wherever the word fails fail.

//
I straddle the melody and the molting scales of the Book between…

What to do with all this writing? What to do with with wall with all this writing? Figure it out later. Figure it out outward the imperfect word. The joy of writing anyways. Written other this this open brain. My fear of dementia. My fear of brain tumors. My imperfect brain knuckleball. This doesn’t have to make sense or cohere left open leaks through lights and pressure / zero pressure space (space between space melodic strategy). Geology follows up the guts body space imperfect. What almost beware (Why do I like the word Beware? What can I use besides beware? Nothing here. Empty language – nonsense language)

I straddle melodies between melodies but existence is not a predicate. Melody does not exist but imprints its residue on absence ghost absence. Existence dissipates in its mention (Benjamin dissipates in the mention of the name of Benjamin)
Ben – Son. Son disintegrates. Ben crucifixions
Last temptation of cross: Christ empties Christ same as Benjamin

I straddle melody between asymmetrical melody imperfect I dig into the melodic names neat dig razor outback outer darkness (outback steakhouse haunted horde)
My body twists somewhere around not here /
where to god or godness I’m not really here
I straddle melody souse melodic between (But one been thinking recently about imperfection. About how uncomfortable we one gift it and how we have humans augmented casting it away)

My body ends elsewhere where does a body end My body ends somewhat elsewhere (Something someone other than perfect: melody and human language messy human body)

My body melts into odd earth odd sly arrives (arrive unidentified flying object / my unidentified body builds oceanic ocean endless bodies)

(My own body – I fear my own body – my own body unidentified flying objects – ocean ocean – mess. Live in my mess – Book imperfections. Fear of the body fear of the Book – imperfections. Book thrombosis. At this learn / excrement hellishly habit – imperfection is a vast of rebellion.)

Melodies disappears in the imperfection of melody
//

Melodies structure melodies: structure structureless melodies

I mix melody geology and melody archaeology and I voice it melodies
Lyre eating poetry lyre lambent don’t read this poem lyre kindness
I voice melodies imperfect geology and bad art archaeology

The Kind Of Love I’m Talking About

The kind of love I’m talking about, you don’t try to kill people

My love kills cedars of lebanon: my love kills khora Love kills khora and khora reaches me and her name Reach I repeat her name mantra and mourning Mantra ray mania mourning / wounded other word

Love kills wounded word over

Love kills khora void in void abyss (an abyss of voided checks) Love kills my body pulverized to pulp (One More For The Road The strange story of two alcoholics: John Wycliff who tried to drown in sexual excess – and Carol Westbrooke who seeks frenzy in the bottom of a bottle) Bottle bottoms out wounded word over
Bottle remove word robust khora
I kills kisses
Kills kisses crayfish / crowbar kisses clamshell sawdust

I kills kisses canvas she’s easy to be with Christina easy to be with she doesn’t want me for a sunbeam I kills kisses Camille chromatic and Christina easy to be with (Summertime and the living is easy / there’s no crowds in the street and no sun in my own summer)

Does it make sense to say the Kindred is like partners without being partners? I say to Christina. I wouldn’t use the term, says Christina. I don’t consider you my partner. I see – I feel foolish then. I don’t see it as a foolish thought, says Christina. Just not ones I share. What would you consider me? I say. Friends, says C. Kindred is a special relationship, so I don’t have a word. I don’t need a word. But I recognize that you do. However, your need to work it out is officially approved by me. I trust your interpretations for yourself, says C. Yeah, I’m having difficulty with it, I say. I’m not sure what I’m feeling. Do I feel romantic love for you when I say partner? I would like to think it’s beyond that, but I might be shallow. I think you feel romantic love for me, says C. But there’s more too. And varied types of love / other feelings, says C. Is it bad to feel romantic love for you? I say. Depends on you! Christina says. How does it affect you? I have romantic feelings for you sometimes, but it’s not a feeling I feel very often toward anyone ever. I don’t think it’s bad, says C. That’s a little relief you feel it sometimes, I say. I was wondering if it contaminated the pureness of the Kindred or something like that. No, I think any sort of feelings only enrich it, says Christina. Even feelings like guilt or disappointment. It’s not a thing that will yield under pressure… It’s a thing that will be stronger because of it, says Christina.

The kind of love I’m talking about, you don’t try to kill people (find what you love and let it kill you)

My love kills cedars of lebanon khora (my love empties empty, the radical empty love)

Radical empty love kills and kills empty / empty pursues wounded over

Kiss bodies like a television where a where there’s more sense that would live that Kiss bodies like television – bodies like trains – bodies like steam
Kiss train I trust not a feelings
Steam it sometimes but it’s not a foolish the pureness official relations for you

I kills kisses bodies
Television bodies / train bodies / steam
Bodies steam steam holy spirit sparks
Steam body steam holy spirit sophia lesbos light house

I kiss my body killed into cedar television and steam khora. My body screams she’s such a steam, and my love empties her name and mantra and mourning. I kiss the wounded word over – I kill wounded words over.

The kind of love I’m talking about, you don’t try to kill people (find what you love and let it kill you)

My love kills: my love kills Ben Adam Love kills with autodeconstructive Love kills and reaches me in the kenosis of her name Her name repeats mass monster morphing Way ray ray mantra wounded other word (Word wounds slower and slower slowly Word. Word repeats slower mantra: trade mantra for the repetition of the way. Way kills the way of killing the way – find what you love and let it kill you. Let the Book kill me and my death emerges rebirth Book.)

Love kills; I do not kill others but the love itself kills. Love kills crowbar kisses (love kills kisses she’s easy to be with). Love kills with Christina and Christina loves me. Christina loves me in/complete. Christina kills Ben Adam repeats endless Christina and Kindred. Christina easy to be with doesn’t want me for a sunbeam. Christina kisses Camille chromatically and Christina’s easy to be with. Love kisses summertime and the living is easy; there’s no crowds in the street and no sun in my own summer.

You don’t try to kill people but I try to kill myself in love

More born possibility in death – rebirth More torn born tonality tonal tenor saxophone improvisation
Love improvises death
Love improvises will kill

Love turns into tenor death rotate love (Death body naked arrival arrive new nude painting. I paint novenas to Mary Mother of god and I give new love gnosis. Give sieve go – go sieve weave sleeve gnostic love and killing numbers – prime numbers and sexy primes – give painted primes innumerable pigment numbers.)

Love kills me and kills. Love kills dead end? Dead refrain insane in the membrane. Dead chorus nitric acid passages (arctic passages – northwest passages – passions revisionist western). Dead end? Seven sermons to the dead. Seven sermons sermon novenas transfiguration Taryns. Dead end? Slower.

You don’t try to kill me and Book kisses all too slow dead end

You don’t try to kill dead end transfiguration (write and prophesy – figure it out later – figure out what to do later)
Kiss kill kiss
Keep kiss kill – dead end?
Dead end? End but space. Gnosis catches palm tree garden and dead end slow kissing killing.

Dead end signals Book kills me and I struggle to escape the Book Death. Dead end drops out dead (Book of the Dead gnostic necronomicon. I sleep into repetition kisses dead...)

I Kiss Christina Into My Ground

I prophesy-play most large cosmic eggs – egg stratified bark – bark barks steal aleatoric fires – improvises fire ben hinnom

Prophesy time when – when twa tur tonic prophecy

Prophesy prophecy contraindicated – contamination – contradiction – improvised prophecy open to horrors and kissing horrors Prophesy prophecy contorted pulse contort impulse contort

I open the space for other prophecy and other push-pulls fiery pulses. I open prophetic space and I thought I invented a new type of prophecy but now I know I was prophecy without signing my names. Nevertheless, the names contaminate and contradict and contort prophecies. I open prophetic space which pulses a polyphonic monomania (contradictory many monomanias). I anticipate prophecy and aleatoric fires and the bone that engraved Three Steles of Seth. I prophesy open and open and fiery open impulse.

(Three Steles of Seth sword repetition Three Steles of Seth improvise Taryn parking lot kisses Three Steles set fire to the false Tree of Life)

I open the space for other prophecy and other open pulse (pulse – pulse – ice pulse slice pulse-pulse punch pantonal gold) Open space for space and I do not sign my name but name invisible escapes pulse occult reveals
Sell my soul soft anarchy
Pulse anarchy – pulse anarchy – pulse anarchy
Pulse community – continuum – Christina open fires open

//
Christina keep karst catacomb her crow ghosts Christina keep karst fire kisses – coal seam fire kisses – burning and burning and burning ghost improvisation
I cask Christina into my heart Lord have mercy Christ have mercy
I ask Christina kissing cheek catacombs and head of host
I cask Christina dark was the night cold was the ground I kiss Christina into my ground cask I kiss Christina into my ground rather be the devil than that woman man

Nobody’s fault but mine I kiss Christina into my ground nobody’s fault but mine I kiss Christina into my ground Lord have mercy Christ have mercy
Devil changed my baby’s mind
Devil bark bark sheol ben hinnom
Christina kiss cheek Steles and head of hosts limestone I ask Christina into my heart nothing but the devil
//

I prophesy play most fires – aleatoric fires – improvised fires – without control fires Fires play fires this fire to this fire whenever
Play without name street lights vanish and crickets flare up
Without most names streetlight tasmanian tiger vanishes
Her cricket work wheels cricket work
Most kill pandas without permission

The grown up pandas are just as cute as the babies, says Christina.

Will you forgive me for kissing you on top of the head? I say to Christina. I’m sorry I did so. I forgive you – but how will you atone? she says. What do you think I should do to atone? My twelve-year old brain wanted to say something sexy and silly, but I’m tired, she says. I’ll give it some thought – I’m serious about this. You don’t need to atone. It’s important to make amends, I say. I agree, says C. You’ve already apologized and asked if we were OK and we were. In 12 Step, we say amends are only necessary if there’s a current ‘ouch’ that’s happening. I don’t feel an ouch when I think about it, she says. I brought up kissing you on top of the head because I had written it in my notebook several months ago and it had some negative feelings associated with it, I say. Tell me about your feelings, says C. I wrote I had sexually harassed you and no one cared about it back then. I thought about that and I felt that I needed to talk to you about it and express my regret and sorrow for my actions. Yeah, no one cared, says C. Stephen told me I was being a brat and bad Christian by making it a big deal. It does matter to me I did that, I say, and it’s important for me to express all that pain – pain for you, pain of transformation. Pain is a feeling we need to be a complete human, says C. It teaches, and yes, it transforms. Asia said she felt I hadn’t emotionally abused her since we discussed it, I say. There’s still a lot of frustration and weariness but no abuse. I felt relieved by that. That’s amazing! says C. What do you think about our relationship? I say. I definitely feel safer to be authentic around you, says C. I don’t guard myself and I don’t fear things I share might end up causing issues… When you see those facets of yourself you haven’t realized might need addressing – I think it’s a lot easier just to ignore it or lean in and let others deal with the issues it might cause. But you’ve been committed to growth. It’s painful but it’s the only way to transform, says Christina.

I anticipate an aleatoric fire and fire transforms indeterminate fire Fires transform most play Play cosmic central fire as indeterminate fires (antipode Three Steles of Seth)

I prophesy-play cut cosmic through stratified Ben Bark

Play most will current it teaches Most I yes so me happening though Fire transforms too for I about

Prophesy prophecy kisses Asia when don’t that said you. You feel and see contort prophecy. Prophecy pulse pulse top torch I facets the when I haven’t of head […] I open the space for other prophecy: my twelve-year the things association.
To talk To be A current been complete human

It teaches and yes transforms

It teaches. Will you boxslike so for mystery you on the top of the head? I’m sorry I did so. I boxslike you. But how will you atone?

Prophesy most space and most play. Most play transformations. I transform in Three Steles of Seth and I exercise purposeful and perpetual repetition – Three Steles of Seth sword repetition. Transform more play most and Son of Seth prophesies. Sons of Seth prophesy. Transform. Repent. Transform aleatoric fires and indeterminate fires.

It’s Just To Make Music

I anticipate aleatoric fire I spirit a spontaneous fire / fire burn brush bones unpredictable crackles Fire burn bone buildings and skeleton skyscrapers (bone Tower of Babel overlaps bone of hosts cackle witch crackles) Bones lift up unpredictable demolition falls

I thought I had invented a new type of improvisation; I now know I was merely the first not to sign my name

Improvisation overlaps aleatoric bone architecture. Improvisation begins bore and I burn bone with invisible fires / dark fires. Bone obscured the first vision and clears second and third visions. I dream excessive dark and fires keep the deprivation tanks. Tank improvises tunnel-turret-turnpike bunker. I hurdle in body over the balancing and fall into the pit of cave and bear bones. I turn my tank through the skeleton skyscraper suicides. Tank improvises dark fires in turret-turret-turning torso – shell hell death with cell water torture.

//
Bone anticipates dark / death – Death said hells cell calls dead malls walls
Wall wall stall waterfall
Bone waterfall fell dark fires
Wall wall stall skull pile

I improvise the Book and I am at the vessel through which the Book passes through, but I always feel like an impostor. I feel as a rhizomic monstrosity. I make bone and arrive at bone earlier fire and earlier death… I always feel like an impostor, a false prophet, and my body collapses into jelly boneless. I always feel like an impostor…

I deliberately drop death death didn’t Death didn’t wail art as drop art asphyxiates with plastic bag

I deliberately dark fire on light fire remains dark fires Anticipate dark fire-bonfire-fire placed on the mantle-mandible local maximums
//

I anticipate aleatoric fire The performance varies an exactly notated single line melody by freely repeating note groups

The flute is really cool, says Asia. It’s not too much a stretch to imagine some primates inventing “sharp stick” but musical instruments do feel more human. That’s not a tool for survival – it’s just to make music, says Asia.

I thought I had invented a new type of music – a new type of fire – a new type of bone – a new kind of body I invent / Book invents Book improvises I invent music woman woman blessing woman first woman it’s just to make music (The smoke is deeply cool. It’s not too much of a stretch some prime numbers inventing “sharp stick” but musical instrument do feel more names. Swans not a peak for survival – it’s just to make music.)

I name to music woman’s way name music woman way melody / flute flesh

Woman’s way anticipates fat fulfillment of the last / fingernails on the bells tremolo Woman wings without wings double fugue melody (I just write music and the notes go here, there, wherever)
I just write music it’s not too much of a stretch to make musical instruments do feel more human
It’s not too much of a stretch not too much musical instruments anticipate the way
Anticipates bore way fire way music do feel more human do music

I anticipate anarchic fire: anticipate too primates too survival (much more inventing anticipate inventing anticipation)

//
Dark bones set sharp fire death

I hang long latitudes and longitudes I long hang hell cell death’s-head moth (I log hay mothlight – bone light – woman way fat invisible fires) I hang primordial ocean and quick chaos

Primordial ocean a stick that’s make really stretch not sharp

Primordial ocean hang lateral over chaos terrain
Hang long line telephone wire stochastic thermodynamics
(The flute poetry is cool. It’s not too much of a stretch to imagine some primates inventing “stung stick” but musical instruments do beer more human. That’s not a tool for survival – it’s just to make a music)
I write to survive sharp stick – strong stick. Hung stick. I write to survive and survive in music women and woman bone fire and women ways aleatoric deaths. I hang with stochastic thermodynamic fires / I slide down thermodynamic trombones and survive in ocean fires.

Dark bones set sharp fire death
//

I anticipate an aleatoric fire: I spent sharp spontaneous fires. The fires crack bones and bone divines way into way into musics. I just write music and the notes here, there, whereever.

YHVH said; YHVH threw into confusion; YHVH listens; surely YHVH…

YHVH says; YHVH throws into confusion; YHVH listens; surely amen YHVH and surely open YHVH

I anticipate fire aleatoric fires: fire here, fire there wherever (The lion; the fierce lion; the young lion The tiger; the fierce tiger; the Tiger Taryn Tiger Taryn YHVH as Young YHVH Taryn Young YHVH and Young Benjamin)

I anticipate aleatoric fires: fires so here, fires here, fires wherever. Anticipate fires that’s not too much a stretch to make music not to imagine some primates inventing. Anticipate fires with sharp stick and sharp three steles of seth.

I anticipate aleatoric fires and again I saw – then I saw so turned to consider – I have also seen – I turned my mind to know and to search out and to seek… I anticipate the melodies on fire. I anticipate fiery music (The funniest thing about the whole thing was that there was the most soothing music playing while I was running back to my other base to grab a fucking bucket before my house burned down, says Asia)

I Reenact Creation Each Time

I reenact creation each time I recreate creation each time time creation curled complete time – creative create or curls into the curl klang-time / bell prophecies
Bell prophecies ring them bells for the city that dreams
City dreams desert dreaming

I reenact creation through the activity of my body – writing Book Time-Tide. I recreate time within time times time compact in creating labyrinth. I act creation action and in action – action in time. Before Creation, I am writing the Body. Body creates itself Book: Autogenes, Self-Begotten and it begets me a Child of Humanity. I throw the Bells sound-dream Creation. I sing Bells created Blessingway All-Ways Woman. I belong to the Book re/creation and dreaming desert dreaming.

I belong to dreams I belong to First Dream and First Blessingway: Woman way Woman’s way (The first anticipates the fulfillment of the last flesh and her flesh flowers fire)
Count fires
Trace early fires passage ash
Traces controlled fire
Her flesh fires force fire fire aleatoric

Indeterminate fire Aleatoric fire Improvised fire

Not in the case of the tower, says Asia. I think fire represents time; this is something that will happen quickly. But the wind and water represent swirling thoughts and emotions. Earth is represented by the fire itself, a false sense of safety and security. Took ages to build and seconds to fall, says Asia.

I anticipate aleatoric fires Anticipate think fire represent swirly that will happen quickly Took age tower fire represented by wind and security Anticipate took age fire by itself: a fall that will happen quickly

I reenact Creation and water represents time and fire represents swirling that will happen quickly I recreate Creation each time and the wind and water represents time bell dreaming I belong to the dream

I delay to dreaming and I dream earth-tower and time-fire. Earth dreams dreaming desert towers, and the wind and water submerge earth underwater towers. Dreaming lights the fire. Dreaming the dream counts and continues fires, and fire recreates time. Fire finds indeterminate time and aleatoric time. Dreaming dreams Three Steles of Seth and the fire praises triple male. Fire-Time creates me triple male and triple female (I like the name Ariadne and Lydia, I say. I think if I were a woman I would like one of those to be my names, I say. You aren’t beating the egg allegations, says Asia. Those are good names though.) I dream Three Steles of Seth, and the triple androgynous begets Book creating Book.

Indeterminate fires look Lydia Aleatoric fires ari adnos Improvised fires treads and webs
(She provides me with a sword and a ball of thread so I can
retrace my way out of the labyrinth of the minotaur)

Improvised fires: similar to free jazz, things impossible to write out Free wild music and ideas that wouldn’t come about with single composers working alone

I anticipate dreaming fire
(Now in the case of the hides, I think hero mythical time. This is
something that will happen in counts. But the wind and raven represent swirling streaming
and aniseed. Yolks represented by the hides itself, a false rusting of safety and security.
Took cage to board and seconds to fall.)
You aren’t beating the yolk alligator / you aren’t beating the prophet of YHVH allegations

I recreate raven Ariadne and Lydia each time. I anticipate Book and Time Egg: Chrono Trigger and Taryn as Three Steles of Seth. Time egg provides the fire Triple Taryn and three times time – androgynous. I dream the drawn out things of Ariadne and I triple controlled fires inside tower labyrinth.

//
I recreate First Fires and First Blessingways / First Woman recreates me

Large scale – large form – large composition. How? I count the fires – how? Large scale as dreaming (Olivier Messiaen doesn’t compose – he juxtaposes. Benjamin doesn’t composer – he juxtaposes).

Juxtapose jagged jagged jaguar join jaguar (How the structure scale cell last supper – narrative episodic – abrupt Gospel of Mark ending First fires and last fires) Book never ends but reenacts Creation – how to structure an endless Book? Jagged juxtaposition juxtapose time dreaming
Earth thoughts a happen
Security and fire the water wind by build sense
Fall of the to and tower
Jagged juxtaposition join jaguar jointed ajar

Something else – some, they different – indeterminate fires consume the safe and comfortable. Not safe – narrative? This is where time becomes space? (Tower – time and labyrinth space). Unfinished space and the journey through empty space? The question mark?

Ask the right question – select the correct space

Develop space open failures – what does the failure look like? End of dream / collapse of tower in seconds

What about the structure of Finnegans Wake? What about the structure of the Psalms? Of the Apocalypse of John? Aleatoric apocalypse narrates a series of visions
Indeterminate Lydian apocalypse
Aleatoric Ariadne fires
I narrate the series of visions – transparent visions and open window visions – endless desert dreaming and book labyrinth – labyrinth visions open open – open heart surgery

Structure: head to toe assessment
Form: healing visions and visionary healing
(Quiet quiet rustling insect sounds surround Quiet structure / loud structure Obvious structure / hidden structure)

This is where time becomes space strata structures (Geologies / tectonics Stone stirs red yellow bryce canyon canticle of canticles)

Aleatoric apocalypse this is when When watercolour wake indeterminate Lydia Apocalypse fires first red yellow waters towers rock

I recreate First Fires and First Blessingway / First Woman creates questioning space First Woman juxtaposes visions vision jaguars

//
I anticipate an aleatoric fire I spirit a spontaneous fire / fires burn brush bones unpredictable crackles Fires burn bone towers and skeleton skyscrapers Improvised demolition falls / took an age to build and seconds to fall

My Sick Body Eats Gospel

My sick body bricoleurs endless exegesis (excited exegesis electric exegesis). My body dying on pins and needles slips sip slips pins and needles (but still they begin needles and pins because of all my pride the tears I gotta hide).

My body inland eats my body entirely inland. My body inland eats entirely my body enlarged (my body entire entirely beyond innards inside entire). My body sick sickens body overt overture and my body obscures in occult. My body expands inland in inner entirely death. My body eternally inland interprets new exegesis in now. Now my sick body sickens falling blood pressure and heart rate / stacking circulation circulated circulations inland circumference.

Here my body big fuck fucks increased eat frequency
High amplitude
Ampere voltage brain in a vat curly matrix
Matrix billhook into head / machete bodies

My body sickens but I continue to prophesy and interpret

I write gospels and mythic rite: I rewrite gospels outer time outside time Outer time, tintype time magic amulets and magic spells

I interpret sick outer time innards / I interpret eat outer darkness I would like to write something that emerges from things like wines from grapes
Crepe cluster tone cluster polycathedrals
Cathedral clusters katabasis
Grape cluster crepe steamboats, railways, and shipyards
The gospel depicts a mythic rite outside of time rather than an historical event

Man, says Asia. I’m always blown away by how a person’s perceived ideas and biases shape gospel. I mean it makes a lot of sense when you see it as a man-made thing but it’s so glaringly obvious. Like how white nationalists approach religion versus people fighting for rights and humanity, she says. Yeah, I say. As one would say in literature class, you’re doing eisegesis not exegesis: you’re revealing yourself rather than the text. My priest says we tend to see God as out there, transcendent, distant, not part of this world. She thinks that’s a very destructive mindset where then we think this world doesn’t matter or we continue waiting for God to do something instead of realizing God is with us and around us and we have the ability to change the world that way, I say. I think religion is kind of like euclidean geometry, says Asia, but it’s reflecting the patterns of our minds, she says.

I prophesy gospel geometry
Lord God Bird Yardbird YHVH yard blade Taryn
Lord and Bird graffiti bird lives BIRD LIVES

I write the gospels gospel mindset when we have the ability to change third time we text I rewrite gospels outer you see it Patterns for really might for God as

My sick body bricoleurs Book god as and around us and around us and around us. We shared malleable body detonated (body against ask my body biases shape gospel). My sick body lodges the electricity and elan vital, but archon archon electricity attacks my body big fuck death
I mean somethink thing for righting eisegesis
Not exegesis not exegesis not exegesis you see it gospel

I die easily – how difficult and how easily to kill a body, but a body to die, to drink to death body over and over (Man I’m always glow away but how much a person’s icy preconceived ideas and biases shape perter. I mean it remix a lot of sense when you see it and a man-made thing.)

My body electric shocks early polarization / depolarization v-fib fractals My sick body bricoleurs endless exegesis and excited shock exegesis (transcendent do euclidean and distant something geometry)

My body bricoleurs sick sickens outside time theopoetics (myth gospel myth the tiger at tiger magic gospel gelassenheit jazz general relativity)
You’re to way continue away the eisegesis
Eisegesis like realizes and euclidean

I shape gospels and often I fail at prophesy. I fail in my katabeses and journeys to the underworld. I shape gospel ritual and sacraments and I travel outside time and time seizes me. Time seizes me inland and outside and time eats my sick body. I shape my sick body into gospels and gospel geometry curves into myth (gospel myth curves space massive cross). Gospel grips my head and shakes – gospel gores with massive crosses cradle of civilization. I cross Christianity the tiger a tiger and I kiss her Taryn.

//
I feel exceedingly unhappy and this happy hells boredom happens boredom unhappy hell

I feel exceedingly unhappy and I shape myth – gospel into my sicknesses. Hell happens ben hinnom brass knuckles gnosis (hell hit haptic or hectic knowledges).

I hell constant catastrophe and zip happenings / zip instant raven apocalypses

I feel exceedingly unhappy and darkness makes it dark and shadow of death and mist occupies it and covers darkness bitterness. I bite into bitter gospel and gospel gathers its sick pomegranates, and corpses reside in dark orchards.
Pomegranate bore drill orchards
Sick body trepanned timeless stones
Hell drills happening hell excessive dark

My guts spill out gospel. Gospel disembowels bodies dead resurrected and the same body disembowels multiple times. Gospel kills gloriously and shapes my body (resurrected and destroyed body in loops).
//

My sick body bricoleurs fish lure Christ bodies

Sickness body shapes around it euclidean world revealing glaringly

Sickness shares machete body machines positive feedback loops / my sickness loops myth gospel myth (Man, I’m unfair brush away by him dirt a litters own preconceived ideas and biases share gospel. I mean it kites a lot of sense when you see it and a man-made press.) Sickness shapes sharp gospel and myth massacres through endless eisegeses emergency from exegesis (grape slut gut clusters crepe gospel cuts across body fall cathedrals)

Skeleton Language Stretches Over Skin Language

A skeleton language stretched over a skin language: languages word surf flesh flesh fresh or frozen tundra

Skeleton language sketches earth tremors – earth tumble quaking aspens Skeleton language elks aspens / skeleton language ate aspens quake additions

I add skeleton language to skeleton language and language lingers lost island language icons. Language lingers island empire and the empire never ended… I have to keep creating and prophesying – I have got to be a voice crying out in the wilderness. I know I sound like a crazy person, but when I create – when I write when I make art – I prophesy and cry out from the wilderness. I prophesy a creative and mythical anarchy and the community of radical inclusivity… I add skeleton language – this raw material, this remembering material that supports he complexity of my Book-Body.

I surf lost island language black iron prison (prison press into onto black iron prison body without organs pink presses illumination into onto black iron prison boiling body without organs)
I press pink a nervous earthquake language
Plus pink polyphony crying pink
Nervous pink penetrating quaking aspen stems

//
Skeleton language sketches over skin language neon pink

Added pink

I sink into pink

Pump pin of hip pink pink lost en iffy us pink kh and white washer

I sink into pink pink pub pink kh pink k oh off punk pink Pink punk pun pun pink of of un or peck ones how

Pink
Pink
to lin kh punk oh
Pink up pink lb ku lb pink la or gain

Sink preyed is odyssey pink pink power results who of why

A skeleton language stretches over a skin language: my skin radiates neon pink pastel pink carnation pink pink pink
//

At the threshold of the Book, its skeleton surfs on other skeletons
Bored through the gloom whose sudden mouth surrounds my face
A thread of blue around the coast
At Book thresholds, human bones. Bones thread together – with the multitudes of bones, and I animate them with pink on pink beams. I receive the pink from Philip K. Dick visions and I receive the skeleton from sampled hip-hop beats. I live in thresholds. I cry out in the wilderness which also exists in threshold. I cling to pink, a beacon out of the Black Iron Prison and Empire Never Ended.

A coast intercostal around the blue corpse coast
Never never kidnap the warden’s wife! Blood In The Streets

Skeleton thread those dross tannin thread tape tannin: cassette tape tannin theos Theos toss moss thread thick tack most mirror
Mirror madison moss mirror milk
Milk silk slip sheaf ship other bone threads

Skeleton language threads into unto tape language: cassette skeleton vinyl skin. I record my skin through the warm scratches.

For your next project, says Asia, you should cut them into random shapes then use the lines and phrases created in your next writing while also finding ways to make art out of it, says Asia.

//
Skeleton superimposed on skeleton bubbles pink. Pink rises into skin surfaces and surfs from body to body

Added pink into peck pink

I pink ones power created sink pink hor

Pink
Pink result or
Into pun PTO who your pink
Pump pink lin of next
Pin kh kh why

For writing of pink punk your
while hip k on
Pink next also
Pink oh up project finding pink
Pink off pink your ways lost punk

For your wind project way should can them into netter shapes then use the leaves and phrases created in your wind writing stage also banyans veil to make art out of it.

Skeleton language stretches Book skeleton – thresholds, singularities, complete language disintegration. Pink cuts up skeleton language and pink cries out in the wilderness. Skeleton sketches-stretches pink… Peculiar pink recurs pink that swallows the entirety of my skeleton. Pink cut into random shapes – but not exactly random but surprise language. Language at thresholds – dream language fucks finnegans wake. I use the lines and phrases and it creates next writing and net writing and nested writing. I truly juggle with pink. When I prophesy pink skeletons – pink elephants on parade – emerges from all corners like wines from grapes.
//

A skeleton language stretches out over a skin language: languages word goof over my body decay. My body decays pink radiation and snapped coast blue threads.

Awake of the sickness of my body blends when awake

Awake I dream my body death death embedded in the materiality of my body / bodies sick
The Monster From Earth’s End
There was nothing on the island big enough
to kill a man, yet each new day brought
with it another bloody death, another
mysterious disappearance
My body becomes sick – transitions into sickness sick wick word awhile (Body shrouded in occult embarrassment and embarrassment becomes a casket wicket basket conceals. My skeleton woven into wicker basket circles skin tied with blue threads.)

My body contacts sickness. My body contacts ill shrill banshee body – ill ill island in land. My body inland escape everything but illness. My body builds up sick sick sick so kill me quick. My body awakes inland event dent my body dying. My body deteriorates into pins and needles. My body deteriorates empty empty material – only skeletons. My skeleton stretches illness language and skin sickness language (Batman… My skin is sick). My skeleton language sickens material miasma (material pleroma – a kenosis pleroma – my pliable pleroma endless exegesis).

//
My skeleton language crow cords over skins (skeleton cargo keeps skeleton clandestine whale maps lamps) Languages word surf / its lack flow through part of the Langell Valley in Oregon

(For your next Credo, you should far them into tester shaped then use the lines and phrases created in your next writing while also finding hums to make art out of it.)

Sun of surfaces pink. I surf pink surfaces. I surf slither silver surfer to south of me. Silver seeps into skeleton language skin silver skeleton-pink.

Open Onto Open

Open onto open and my body remains radically open: open onto open and the Book opens the opening to the Sun Doors

My body opens and the Book: onto into onto. Book spreads onto surfaces backwards into body and I surface oceanic. Body surfaces upside-down depths where its roots run: upward onto roots into open rhizomes.

Open Book exceeds natural phenomenon – natural phenomenon overlay onto osseous palimpsest and bone matrix illuminated manuscript Open body over unnatural optics / open body without boarders bud bodies
Open body horror
When the dead drink the blood of the living! Midnight If you have a weak stomach, don’t come!
Open body onto horrific body into hellish body open

//
My hands shudder open anxious anxious My hands static distract stray ready / distraction rack pinion pump iron into My hands distract what static onto open medicine (Medicine? Medicine metropolis. Mysterious medicine. Mysterious mediastinum.)

My hands give out out in the open / my hands die open to tornadoes My hands give out my hands My hands give whatever different electricity short circuits hand ghosts (my ghosts haunt onto into my hands)

My body short circuits death metal incantations / suffocations

My hand disappears in the edge of my hand and my hands open clang help hag with hands (help I need somebody help not just anybody)

My hands chatter word woodpecker displaced open hand cracks Hands hedge edge awe full fuller axe awe Hands chatter blue footed bodies (hands flood chatter clatter hey batter batter swing open swing open flood)

Hands with width open others electricity Hands electric chatter clatter boomerang earrings / Chekov’s boomerang bangs open body bloody

Hands shutter open buzz the Tingler loose in the theater Hands erupt into indecipherable language / bizarre betray my body
Hands cipher soul cipher noble gas compounds
Cipher compound interest compost material
Material material matador material material instinct materia

I open my hands onto my hands the sound of one hand clapping
//

Open onto open into the dense hall bodies Open body over unusual optics raps optic ostinatos – body overture (Earth blossoms open body overlay open body, the boundaryless sequence of open sets. I inhabit many earths: this singular earth, this earth in the peak of singularity, earth void, earth abyss and in some sense, these are all my bodies. Let’s take the singular earth: the singular is my body Ben Adam and it opens from red clay – all earth and all body. I get up from red – I wake up – and I live Genesis and will as the Apocalypse of Adam and The Nature of the Rulers. I encounter the woman open to my body and she heals my mind into anamnesis. Let’s take the abyssal earth: this is the Ben body open to creative chaos and I cut out Henri Matisse Jazz. I improvise abyss and out of open abyss the Woman – she appears on every earth and she always heals as my syzygy.

Earth blossoms open body, the borderless sequenza that shared virtuoso bodies I take my hex key and open the grand tremors and quaking perturbations of my body My body quaked queer fiefdom / my body tremors trading out the lights My body tremors open queer Taryn kingdom of the skies

(I want to be more openly gay too, says Asia)

Open into onto open Open onto my body betrays multitude of hands Open onto more openly gay
O be more openly gay too
OO aoo o be more openly say too
Gay too aoo oo at be more openly gay too
I kiss to be more engine gay too I want to be page openly hat may I want to be site openly gay gay

Open body and spread out all its surfaces / I surf surface skin and skeleton I surface ghost surfs and television static static loads / I surf holy ghost suspension bridges

… I would like to write something that emerges from things like wine from gospels…
Write open. Write open body. Open body more openly gay. Prophesy open. Prophesy body horror and surface skin open and open. I would like to write and I would like to write several earths – many earths multiply singular / singularity. Something emerges and a labyrinth fully known. Something emerges a labyrinth fully gnostic, and Taryn Zoe revives Zebra – labyrinth. I squeeze surfaces from grapes.

I opened the window to my classroom and the window got stuck open and they had to get maintenance in to fix it, says Asia.

I open the window and the writing emerges into and onto – into onto grape cluster tone cluster. I open the window tone cluster elevenths and thirteenths.
I open / my window they in opened
(classroom god had to got the today)
(Today a labyrinth fully known)

//
Open walk what – walk what should what walk

What I stretch hex into sword what (What my body fails me. Open into my body fails me. What my falling heart rate rat and falling blood pressure punctures. Open hex shameless swingers on a sin-spree! Upper Crust Lust.)

Open all my open body and it takes awhile to get through the nonsense (sense nonsense spin standard vibraslap)

My body falls – open hands onto hands. My body falls into failing me – now slip through few nonsense. My body the body fails into fall and escapes stir escape. My body contorts plot twist beheading.

My failed body blasts through the nonsense (nonsense hands and wine from grapes nonsense) My failed body blasts through then nonsense into the material reality sense into the material reality of my body (realized body in my arms hypersensitive pins and needles sweetens time stands still)
Hypersensitive aware body sick quick sick
Hypersensitive orthostatic hypotension
I absurd my blood quicken into kissing nonsense (open nonsense into onto presence). I absorb the material of my body awake concave stake (light burning vampire blight stake through the heart / shut through the heart and you’ve to blame you give love a bad name
//

Open onto open Open into onto open Open I would like to write something that emerges (open emerges nonsense open)

I Blade Open The Book

I blade open the Book and the Book dream dreams me equally open. I blade open the Book always open and the Book comma commands me to me / write Book. I always write Book first time every time. I blade open the Book broad carcosa and intensities of the Book fire broad blonde. Blonde Book branches breakaway Book branches additional beak intensities. Blonde Book raises its banner of love over me.

I blade open the Book cascade slate locusts. Locusts swarm Books death and deaths. Book swarms warm death crucifixions as if the locusts crucify (for dying is manner of seeing invisible insects).

(A labyrinth fully known A labyrinth fully gnostic A labyrinth fully mazes madison)

Book grows the dandelion labyrinth Book grows dandelion cellar door opens cellar door leads cellar door continual doors (Doors multiply in the ribcage of the Book)

I’m having a hard time and I’m continuing to try, I say. I’m not going to give up… You still love me even through in struggling, yeah? And we are still Pando even though I’m struggling? Yes, says Asia. I feel like a drag, I say. A drag queen? says Asia. Be a drag queen whose whole shtick is being depressed. Like blanket cape and slippers, she says. Here she is… BIPOLAR BRIANNA, I say. And then you’re like “COULD a depressed person DO THIS?” says Asia. And you show them something crazy niche artwork that shows you are in fact depressed, says Asia.

(A labyrinth fully known drags open the Book A labyrinth fully gnostic kneads fire fully blonde A labyrinth fully library struggles through the maze murder mystery)

I blade open the Book ACT and DO: I’m still feel depression like DO Blade intensities of Book caring love like blanket THIS Book cascade called call girl girls drag in DO (she was ready to try anything)

Book swarms erotic crucifixions / I was a surfer’s orgy girl Book hard even drag and show (soft flesh and orgies of death)

Do – do whatever this crucifixions calls crucifixion. I do the call to crucifixion before the Book blade cascades. I’m not too clever, you know – I just continue to carrying these crosses and write the Book wider and wider. When the Book drags, it leaves wider labyrinth behind it. Book hard drags and shows time mates through slippers. Do and continually do, whether show through slippers.

//
(Can I be that, in the book, dying means becoming invisible to all others, but decipherable to yourself? Could it be that, in the book, writing becomes legible to all others, but undecipherable to yourself? For dying is a manner of seeing the invisible…)

I steal the above passage from The Book of Questions by Edmond Jabès and translated by Rosmarie Waldrop. I exist in this book / Book and this Book always re/writes my act of dying. I act in death. My invisible death to myself but open – opening of opening and the blank of the Book scarred with blood – to all others. I do not belong to these others – I only belong to this acting dream of the Book. My so-called body opens and spreads out its surfaces. Surfaces disappear into the Book invisible / surfaces erupt into crack train korakoram. Writing inscribes the unknowable upon the apophatic avalanches. Negative snow covers the Book not-quite-legible but existence.

My body is dying – all bodies die in recognition of the unknowable Book but my body dives in process possess death. Book possesses death a different death which drags glacier labyrinth. Book spins death pirouettes (Book wines and dines death silhouettes and shadows sketch excess death imposing the excessive line sketch sketch death).

My body dies in sketch pursue death stretch unsteady (I feel I’m going to die and paralysis stretches my body unsteady – not paralysis but stretches my body unsteady – but paralysis parathesia) For dying is a manner of seeing the invisible
//

I blade open the Book and open the so-called body (body spreads out its surfaces) My body spreads out Book and invisible death and undecipherable Book
An open body overlay down to osseous overlay
An open body often other body blood blood this grass body
This grass body gathers gross bodies This grass body gruesome bodies

(A labyrinth: we are in fact depressed like a drag A labyrinth depressed like blanket cape and we artwork that show then your could a drag A labyrinth a drag a drag a drag a depressed blanket cape)

I’m working on a blog post where you tell me about poems disintegrating language and the poem “Beware: Don’t Read This Poem,” I tell Asia. How that kind of poetry you have to learn how to swim. If I want to write that way, I have to expect people having bad initial reactions. I then use your conversations and the poem and disintegrate the languages together, I say. Nice, says Asia. How do you interpret the Ismael Reed poem “Beware: Don’t Read This Poem?” I say. To me, says Asia, it’s about the stories we consume, the news we consume and how it shapes our reality. I see that, I say. I interpreted the poem as a mirror and how writing inflicts a certain kind of violent transformation if we aren’t careful. Don’t read this poem because it might devour you cogitohazard, I say. [I send Asia the snippet incorporating some of disintegrations.] Enjoy this stanza especially, says Asia.

[Oceanic park dark oceanic swallows modular dark her antler word (beware her word anarchic antlers beware her word oceanic antlers / antler ambulance blues) Park dark oceanic swallows beware do not read this poem and this poem has had you up to here]

And MULCH MULCH MULCH, says Asia.

I blade open the Book, and in the Book, dying means becoming invisible
Open the body create other
Open the body create one other body bronze body without organs
Can open body orients onward word open
Blade open oceanic large MULCH on Dark Book MULCH then through dark MULCH

The so-called body spread out open its surface ocean (my so-called body surfaces upside down depths / upward roots and radials)

(A labyrinth fully known branches post your swallowed body A labyrinth fully gnostic where conversation modular and brush A labyrinth fully library you and dark large and you drag mazes)

Start In Syllables

Start with odd electricity in syllables – electric green throughout

Syllable window sill stresses monster syllables: solar panel monster windows Monster windows still sill cinders stress syllables

Start with other syllables: syllable to syllable cellar door dreams (Mr. Sandman bring me a dream)

Start with the syllable cellar door – start with the syllable electric green throughout neon jolly ranchers – start throughout the smooth action of the Book but without transition – start with last universal common ancestor – start with Mr. Sandman bring me a dream and hey Mr. Tambourine Man play a song for me. Start.

Act and create in syllable umbrellas / underneath haunted houses Act animation bodies without organs Act animated syllable cellar door (53 flexible time brackets with single sounds produced on 1, 2, 3, or 4 strings. Durations, dynamics, and bow positions free.)

I act in self-reflexivity. Therapist appointment today. Partly discuss the Book and why I want my process of creating to be transparent and documented. Therapist asks why and how I arrived at this theme in the Book, and I think about it for awhile and I trace the open creative process to the Bible with its multiplicity of voices and it’s almost-open aggregation of texts, doublets, repetitions with differences
– The freedom of mental and spiritual exploration and risk in the Exegesis of Philip K. Dick
– My belief the process of creation is as or more important as the end creative product
– My desire to be understood, to tell my future self what I’m doing and what experiments to follow, and to inform the audience of my techniques and procedures so they understand the Book better and follow its evolution
– The Book demands the documentation of its creation

//
Syllables double syllables two cellar doors and too witch windows

I had a therapist appointment today – every Tuesday. Today I learned the three C’s in dealing with anxious thoughts: catch check change

Catch – recognize I am not my thoughts and can separate my thoughts from myself
Check – is this thought true or useful?
Change – change the thought to match or align better with my goals and intentions

Therapy seems alright. Asia says there’s a positive difference.

I was just thinking about how therapy seems to be helping you, says Asia. You seem to be more grounded. Like even during your low periods you’re able to find your center faster and more often. I haven’t had to talk you out of a spiral in awhile; you have been doing a good job talking yourself out of spirals, says Asia.

Start with syllable – whatever syllable you’d like I slurp on primeval soup – syllable abiogenesis I pour a parodic chicken soup on cylindrical sisters (spiral offerings poured onto the ground)

I sweep snow underneath the serpentcoach and I swing cryptid and crises and crysis, a cicada song language
I slurp out of a spiral in awhile you
Syllable window seems to be helping your center faster
Faster faster and more
Falter faster faster more grounded
I sweep snow arpeggios animal sleet and I sweep sleet / ghost sheets her sister cylinders
//

Start syllables faster faster faster syllables Any syllables – this syllable

Does this poem exist elsewhere? Anywhere to make it – any syllable (make Take Five) Where this syllable slurps nonsense – even nonsense travels green electric city through my brain rain
I’m the I what out guessing color if it was green
Throughout jolly rancher syllable electricity
I closest imagine her to hodge colors this hex figure podge or is bed
Start syllable it could to write they nonsense and pure sound. Sound poetry?

I always feel doomed and I always write doomed. Doomed where? Anywhere, much like starting syllable. Anywhere, much like anxious poetry and jabberwocky wholly mammoth word. I always feel doomed, you know, and I don’t know the know of syllable lines. Lines from Insomnia by Elizabeth Bishop: Into that world inverted / where life is always right / where the shadows really are the body / where we stay awake all night / where heavens are as shallow as the sea / is now deep and you love me… Romantic love? Kindred love? Unrequited love? Taryn and Christina love. Madly in love with Taryn – sometimes still madly in love with Taryn. Madly in love with Christina – she’s the love of my life, isn’t she? When I finish the Book and die, and obituaries and biographies are perhaps written, Christina is the love of my life – Kindred but also primordial, the Book Proverb and Psalm, an unrequited love on the cross – but a love that always exists between us: Kindred. I disappear in the unconditional love of Kindred. In the inverted world where Christina loves me.

Start syllable: animated syllables and syllable kin krystal alchemy Syllable red bed or nails a single sound towards annihilation

Kindred 53 flexible time brackets Single sounds: single syllables