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