Tag: writing

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

Bud Powell Pinks Turn To Blue, Part 1

Bud Powell pinks turns to blue     Bud Powell pink elephants on parade (parade pulse plus pink Philip K. Dick pink gold golden ratio doorway)   

I jam Book bebop and every chord change reveals door doorway pure pink


//
The door of the horizon are thrown back; its bolts are unbolted
	Vivid voids opens open amen
	Void vivid opens open omen
	Vivid amen opens open void omen
Horizon hymns horizon open: horizon hymn opens horizon hell radically open

Door horizon opens vivid her void opens volume void (The adventures of an ordinary man among the cruel men and passionate women of Algiers     Musk, Hashish, and Blood)     Horizon adventures bloody door – door Passover and creeping death       I adventure – add venture – venture vulture prevent defense – horizon shirt hot horizons     (hashish horizons     musk murder in the red barn     door across or our horizons – open crew, Christina cave-in)

The door of the horizons are thrown back; its bolts are unbolted

Horizon hymns horizon open: horizon hymn opens horizon hell radically (her open radials sprawl horizon desert concentric circles)     Here her horizon opens here and her here open spills horizon
	Vivid her void opens visible void and invisible void
	Vivid her void devours void and her void devours void visions
	(Void flows to void)
	(Void pours onto void void doubled and triple void)

The door of the horizons are thrown back into the musk, hashish, and blood
//


Bud Powell pink turns to blue     Bud Powell pink elephants on parade     Parade pulse pink plus blue plus blue   (blue bathers bodies without organs)

I bare my body blue bricoleur blue brick blue babel / blue bathers body without organs

One of my ghost shrimps has a parasite, says Asia.  I have quarantined him.  I can’t bring myself to euthanize him though.  They are so cute.  I’m trying methylene blue.  It can work to kill parasites so we will see, says Asia.  Let me know how it goes, I say.  Methylene blue is also used in gram staining.  Used a lot in my microbiology class.  That’s why I have it, says Asia.  The microscope.  I forget you’re a genius,  I say.  How do you know it has a parasite?  Ghost shrimps are see-through, says Asia.  It’s like “Oh they are perfectly clear except that one has a weird worm thing looking inside of it… wait a minute…,” says Asia.

Bud Powell brings blue X blue and I’m always blue

(I feel blue desert depression and body blue.  Body blue burden of the valley of vision body without organs blue.  Blue Ben desert travel blue.  I need to vomit this raw emotion, however inelegant and brutish and ugly.  I believe in my ugly – I believe in my vulnerability – I believe in my weakness.  My desert body frustrates.  Blue defeats me – pink elephants on parade berate me – passionate women of Algiers throw open the door of horizon and polish its bolts with my blood.  I vomit brutalist blood and I fail to nurse in this blue… Try again fail again fail better.  Fail better blue and experience nervous and fuck and anxious – I experience human and the pink to blue human off the bebop runs.  Improvise kind of blue and blue in green and all blues.)

Bud Powell pink turns to blue     Bud Powell pink elephants on parade     Parade pulse plus pink Philip K. dick pink gold golden ratio doorway

Bud did down well right     I sing dumb his glass darkly speech lit face to face on all around     He sing ben simulation string texts, string cheese cobra chaoses

Blue Bud Powell one cute blue
	I’m trying also forget perfectly
	Ghost methylene used you’re clean
Blue that’s why I have quarantined him     I can’t bring used in gram staining myself to euthanize though
	I sing dumb glass darkly speech bark blue


//
The door of the horizons are thrown back; its bolts are unbolted

I unbolt the doors and I parade pulse pink Philip K. Dick pink gold golden ratio doorway     (Door blue and pink spills her were horizon     Horizon used in gram staining myself to euthanize through they are so well perfectly)

Unbolt horizon spills house fire and forest haunted by open fragments
	(Bud Powell pink fragments
	 Bud powers blue fragments
	 Philip K. Dick blue door)
I collect fragments from the manuscript of the horizon

I collect blues the scale of blue in blue, and my blue collective coagulates bloody door / hashish horizons.  I collect blue and blue unbolts my body from my body.  Blue isolates my body in blue.  Blue bones – blue brains – blue Bud Powell – spills out body blue… Despite all my collections, I cannot find the door.  I cannot unbolt the door.  I collect blue and vivid blue opens void language problems and language games.  I follow Bud Powell into bebop blue and Powell creates the modern piano style of single-note right hand runs and left-handed chordal punctuation.  I collect blue freely across harmonic borders.  I collect blue through the doors...

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 Feel The Earth Move

I feel the earth move: I feel the tumbling down tumbling down

Earth moves earthworks     Earth moves earthworks monuments and I copy earthwork and earthstone     I copy quartz tumbling down tumbling down

I feel the earth move watch earth – watch work earth work watch – earth watch move otherwards.  More earth watches – earth wheels watch watchman tell us of the night.  I feel the earth move repeatedly earth with large elliptical paths.  Earth repeats large elephant paths – elephant graveyards – price per square yard.  Earth moves earthworks: subtle Ben bodies bent-corridor in god bodies.  Earth bends Ben bodies in female corridors and crane crosses.  I cross plain and crane and planes.  I watch my body earthworks wheel earthworks.  Earth walks.  Watch multiply earths and I walk earth as my body as I walk my body and earth.  I feel earth tumbling down beneath tumbling beneath me.

Earth moves earthworks and I tumble Taryn thunderstorm and Taryn crow crag hurricanes / I tumble down Taryn Tetragrammaton crosstown traffic
	Tumble Taryn one or two stations of the cross
	One or two topological defects move crosses crosses Taryn
I adore stations of the cross – Barnett Newman’s stations of the cross and I station zips in zebra

Earth moves earthworks in zips zip up and down zebra

My flesh flings stations flat ride zips zip up and down zebra

My flesh flings stations flat ride zippers tumbling down tumbling down
	Tumbling down dirigible hope hydrogen ghost two halos
	Ghost town halos ghost town harlots
	Halogen hobgoblin wild west winter music
I feel the earth move and I feel the earth move elsewhere


//
Earth originates in opera.  Earth aria harp harp to swan swing (to swan swing more constantly more limitations and swan swing more limitations)…

Work earth originates opera – my failure to construct the opera (any opera disappears into the void or omen of my bodies)

Omen of vivid amphibian bends amen     Omen amen vivid amphibian merge omen amen other     Vivid omen sleeps big omen amen

Earth originates from Book opera and Book aria and Book alchemical magnum opus

Distill liminal and coagulates threshold

Ambidextrous and amphibious

Vivid omen sleeps big omen amen / vivid omen sleeps street vivid amphibian animism
	(Vivid animism animation chupacabra anarchy)

For chupacabra chomp anarchic animism agon chupacabra / for chomp romp rhizome

Earth originates in opera and on opera and from opera and opera synthesizes few earth.  New earth edits my body my body erases.  New earth eats my body edit erase.  Earth places soil on my body and makes a vow (variable vision volcanic vision).  Earth ejects me from its fucking bowels earth rips me from its loins     Hellbender amen hell omen hell – all warm opera.  Earth fucks me up vivid dissection – diagonal vivisection – vulgar bodies.  Earth ejects my body carnival and grotesque body, and my body without organs spills earth out of its amen-omen) orifices.

Earth ejects opera from my liver-melancholic black bile – bile bodies and bubble bodies.  Melancholic monochromatic remakes my body molting earth.  My body molts earth amen and omen and opera blackbirds.

Earth ejects tropical birds from my belly
	Stomach vivid amen omen open orphan
	Stomach shipwreck swing swans
	Champagne stomach bend branches
Earth ejects for chupacabra chomp romp rhizome

Anarchic arrangement of swans and swans of names / names swarm frequent flier swans
	Vivid void omits amen or omen
	Vivid void opens omen amen
	Omen opens amen void vivid
	Omen amen omen vivid void

Earth earth ejects void out of my body out out earth no limits

Earth originates in opera and open-heart surgery.  Earth and surgical scalpel scratches open Ben swans all arias.
//


I feel the earth move: I feel the tumbling down tumbling down

Earth moves constant earthworks     Earth maneuvers ballet earth Ben dances (Ben dances moments earthworks word work work)

I copy earthwork and earth stone queer quartz (What does imperfect or messy poetry look like for you? I say to Asia.  Like Eating Poetry, like Beware Don’t Read This Poem, like Kindness by Naomi Shihab Nye, she says.  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.)     I copy earth but not too clean – copy tumblestone stone stone silo tumblestone

Microtonal quartz earth tumbling down tumbling down

Imperfect earth she has a habit of taking showers in lemonade

Messy earth imagine his surprise when he discovered his safe was full of pudding

Earth moves earthworks work messy earth / I copy counterpoint earth
	That last analogy does imperfect or messy poetry look like for you
Asia looks for me in the watched earth of my mind.  My mind disappears eating stone poetry don’t work but you.  I copy earthwork and earthstone.  Like for a stone tumbles for a stone tumbled for you.

How to write the earth not too clean but in contact with my body tumbling down tumbling down.  How to write messy earth messier (Asia Rhizome architecture constructs land art and large scale installations     Ink innards / ink runs from the corners of my mouth).

I tumble Taryn thunderstorm and Taryn crow crag hurricanes (swans with more constraints more limitations)     I tumble down tumble down but you don’t control the rock – you just get to fan it (There is poetry that is essence – essential bones and muscles and earth)

Earthwork tumbled down the tumbling down and I don’t quite acknowledge the thunderstorms, but Taryn mountains the mess – Taryn adds to the mess and mess eats Elephant Man X Mary X and the X compresses stone like autumn pottery

I write too clean.  There is double that is essence and human then there is double write to be consumed.

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 Decide To Create And Pursue Whimsy

All decisions decide on faith     All decisions decide undecidable, an undecidable faith     My faith as flow and flux undecidable     My faith flows flux white furniture furniture flesh / phantom furniture a body in the freezer

I decide on this other decision and this decision – and to decide to decide and to decide otherwise or counterclockwise decide – mystical decisions.  I decide onto decisions and I always decide on faith onto I always decide on faith into – mystery of mysteries.  I decide on mystery – mystery of narrative.  All decisions reveal parables (the Kingdom of Heaven is like yeast that woman took and mixed it with three measures of flour until it was all leavened).  Yeast is there measures of flour.  I hid within the decision of her name parable and narrative.  I decide on heaven lightmoth more heaven: heavenly hell.


//
All decisions decide on faith – I decide on the miniature and vignette and in start vision

(It was always dangerous to drive with her since he insisted the safety cones were a slalom course)

(He took one look at what was under the table and noped the hell out there)

He insisted on the slalom course snow cones (cones cut into cones: sound sine echoes)     Under the table, the underworld beckons (The ascent beckon as the ascent beckoned.  The descent beckoned as the ascent beckoned.  Memory is a kind of accomplishment, a renewal even.)

I decide on the miniature and I decide on the variable vision.  I read William Carlos Williams and I misread beckons into beckoned and beckoned into beckon.  Vision beckoned beckon vignette beckoned beckon.  I always dangerous danger write danger music and danger cuts cones into cones sound-sines.  I reread descent and ascent and I accomplish in memory.  I accomplish memory ascent and I accomplish memory ascent.

I take one look under the table and revise the descent as parable.

Did you watch the news?  Unfortunately, yes, says Asia.  Unless you have different terrible news.  Nah, it’s the same news… Do you think we will survive the news?  Yeah, we will survive, says Asia.  I am going to continue prophesying and creating, I say.  I will continue to create and pursue whimsy, says Asia.

It was always dangerous to prophesy and how dangerous to prophesy Ben with Ben but I decide prophecy.  I decide the prophecy beckons and beckoned renewed memory / melody
	Prophesy whimsy 
	Yes unless same
	Yeah and you new

I think a look at what under and I will survive the same news     Yeah we will continue prophesying to continue

All decisions decide on faith and I decide on miniatures and vignettes and instant visions
//


All decisions decide on faith     All decisions decide undecidable, an undecidable faith – an undecidable narrative – an undecidable parable

I hide parable – dangerous leaven – in something sonata-allegro form and rondos

My faith flows flow fluxes flux undecidable     My faith flows flux leaven lux white light leaven / phantom parables in the freezer

I decide on a rereading of the ascent.  Unfortunately yes unless you have different terrible sort.  I am going to hysteria prophesying and creating.  I will hysteria to create and donkey whimsy.

I prophesy dangerous parable and wild whimsy

I prophesy dangerous.  You might be thinking of something entirely different, and then tune into a process that’s going on somewhere.  It might be a thematic idea or a purely structural idea, with its main pivots: a big time span, with departure points, and arrival points, but you don’t know what’s between them.

I decide on an arrival and a departure: point pointing to point points suspensions.  It’s the same news.  It’s the same news – a kind of accompaniment, a sort of renewal even.  I decide on impossible arrival and departure points.  (I descend to the departures and I ascent to the arrivals).  I decide to create and pursue whimsy.


//
I decide on the visionary vignette and theopoetic miniature

Asia writes the following poem:

Stale goldfish swimming in a pond
Do they think of flying?
Grab a fat goldfish in your hand 
Hefty and round like a summer tomato
What do they dream of?
Do they dream about streams and river?
Or just their next meal.

I like grabbing the fat and summer tomato, I say.  I grabbed Calliope yesterday, says Asia.  Just scooped him up.  No net.  He was like a tomato, says Asia.

I received a heavy fine but it fans to crush my spirit

I receive holy spirit and spirit invades the cabinets and crawl spaces

He strives to keep the best lawn in the neighborhood

What does a Jean-Michel Basquiat semantic field have to do with the Book?  How to apply it to the Book?  I study the field of facts Book and spirit decision: KRYSXTRYN, gods, Bible and Exegesis, Child of Humanity… I grab the fact facts about Ben Adam / Benjamin Ariadne – I grab goldfish facts about KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome – I swim in pond-facts and field-water and parable and decision, and I sculpt my texts art assemblages (the descent beckons as the ascent beckoned).

Goldfish vision rains decision no net.  No net.  No net but parable deciduous.

I insisted the semantically field is a slalom course and a summer tomato     I slalom grabbing in the fat and rivers
	Under the table underworld
	Under the table flying goldfish leaven hidden in parables

The ascent beckons and the ascent beckoned, and I decide on renewing memory – parable archive – decision library

I decide on field flux fluxes flow goldfish underneath
//


All decisions decide on faith     All decisions decide undecidable, an undecidable faith (Again, the Kingdom of Heaven is like a net that was thrown into the sea and caught fish of every kind; when is was full, they drew it ashore, sat down, and put the good into baskets and threw out the bad)
	I net that thrown no net
	No net of swarm rivers or grabbed flying
My faith flows flux white white blue-white blue flesh / phantom blue body in the freezer

Christina Legion

Christina legion logia
Pink noumena

Logos pincher pink
Pigeon peak lights 

Christina prophesies longer 
Oracle in net gnosis

Christina prophesies parable
     speaks obscure parables 
     occult pomegranates

Christina prophesies parable
     pink pear oracles
     cedar rafter parables

Christina chants obscure 
Pink unique name

Logos pyre pink
Oracle fire longer

Christina legion logia

I Eat The Poem

Why is this: this     Why patterns why fragments
Why is this: this waves these     These fragments abandon     Thoughtful abandon

Why is this: why patterns why fragments     Desert fragment flirt decay delay ruins

This arrangement cut     This tetragrammaton: ghost shove shore   ghosts shore meteor more

Why is this – these – weave the why mysticism.  Why weaves word and Ben weaving goddess.  I weave with her in these – this her that’s me and this her in me – and why words patterns and fragments.  I slowly sift earth to discover fragments: texts, magic spells, pulp fiction, KRYSXTRYN conversations.  Archive emerges from excavations / excavation reveals archive always-already revealed.  Book reveals itself as excavation process and active archive in activity.

(You might be thinking of something entirely different, and then you tune into a process that’s going on somewhere.  It might be a thematic idea or a purely structural idea, with its main pivots: a big time span, with departure points and arrival points, but you don’t know what’s between them.)

I arrive and depart from Book – KRYSXTRYN + Asia Rhizome – music – creative abyss and chaotic creativity.  Sometimes various gods appear in the between, in the transition, and slippery sediment.

I read the poem “Eating Poetry” today in my small group class, says Asia.  I want you to take a wild guess what happened, she says.  Did some of your students eat the poem? I say.  One kid ate the paper for the entire class period, says Asia.  It made me mad.  He wouldn’t even talk to us about anything past the title and kept interrupting people and being distracting, she says.  If I was his classmate, I would tell him that I would eat him if he didn’t knock it off, I say.

Why is this: this desert this decay     This decay seven sermons to the dead
	(eat decay   eat desert)
	(eat sermon   eat patterns)
Why if didn’t every talk to take a wild guess
	It made me made me made me 
Why all archive

(Idea: push towards vignettes or miniatures.  Alternate miniatures with big pieces.  Miniatures like Anton Webern or György Kurtág.  Push towards self-contained but interrelated melodic fragments or short melodic motifs.)

I find feminine fragments in the conflict of the forest: I eat the female and I eat the fragment and I eat the forest     I find feminine fragments and I tune into forests forests worship
	(Poem what entire title and that entirely happened)
Purely structure

I field forceps fires furniture fragments (fiery forceps fold fiery forceps eat skin)     I eat skin archive and skin excavation
	By sword   by pick   by axe   bye bye   The Mutilator 
I find sword and I eat poem.  I find pick and I eat the poem.  I eat the axe and I eat the poem.  Poem mutilates the guts and cuts my guts sword fragment and axe fragments.  Fragment pick out my eyes and lips

I pick at fragments: I scrape fragments from bone, a burning cannibalism
	(Furniture fragments fit keystone stiletto)
I fit fragments into keyhole flesh and my skin overlays secret keystone / white marble pyramids of giza
	(Flesh keystone kiss khora and karakoram)

Why is this this departure points and arrival points

Why is this this: excavate skin and eat skin

Between my skin: one kid eating the paper for the entire class period.  Yes, I eat paper between and skin between.  I juggle miniatures and vignettes, almost all this this secret ghosts.  Between my skin: bare stereo and fragment bodies (an authentic program for a striptease   songs with that beat for party fun   dyna-disc high fidelity full range)

I think of something entirely different but I continue to eat the poem – I eat the fragment – I eat the why patterns

I loan the poem “Eating Poem” today up my small group class.  I want you to take a fight weigh what termites.  Did some of your hyacinth eat the poet?  One bar ate the paper for the invade class period.

She eats my poem body – fragment and fragrant and wild guess what I was his classmate – and she eats me completely archive.

I find feminine fragments in the conflict of the forest
	How the kiss towards her fragments cross flat skin		
	Her kiss open fingers key empty tomb
Her kiss fragments kiss fragrances frequent lightning flashes

Fragments flash behind the blind and I recognize none of the zero in this.  This zero arrives and departs equally zero: zero why patterns arrives and depart devoured zero.  I eat the zero this decay this demon.  I juggle ciphers and codexes themselves fragments and active archives.  I don’t know yet what’s between this and this: paper skin perhaps, or more earth to excavate.  Paper candy / pinhole candy.  Fragment flash behind blind beginnings and fragments kiss this.

Her kiss fragments fragrances frequent lightning flashes     Her kiss how fragrant frequent arch aurora     Her fragments fractal kiss mist and clouds of forgetting

I aim fragments her fractal kiss kept interrupt past the poem eat the poem     I aim fragments Cain rose up and one kid at the poem “Eating Poetry” – and this poet’s body true flesh drink     I aim why this other fragments magic eat my body the poem

This body – this human body – slowly decays and betrays     Why is this these eats poems betrays     This human body ben adam adds hen to pan porous flesh and rotting flesh / my flesh flattened and preserved in heavy Book

Why Is This Horror

Why is this: This     This desert this decay     This decay seven sermons to the dead     This at this desert dry decay that simultaneously preserves the human grotesque / mummy monsters     (monsters tell me why I don’t like Mondays)

When is this: This and this horror and my horror
	(Every horror movie models mortality
	(Horror models body mottled variegated blood variations)
	(Horror movie modeled mothlight)

Why is this: This     This body horror hallelujah     Hallelujah flesh moths man horror hallelujah


//
This: crunch crunch catastrophe (crunch keep crystal candle aperiodic crystal)

This: obscene from who abyss and chaos

This and this threads this and the this reflects (models) the horrific catastrophe of my body.  My body crunches obscene and censored, but the horror nonetheless reveals.  My body crunches obscene from chaos and abyss, and I think it all comes from eternal sources.  My bones crunch catastrophe and if it’s bones, it speaks.  It speaks to do something deep about what it means to be bones, intentional or not.  My bones speak whether something is good off or not is a more difficult and subtle movement though… My bones speak OK, so if all off I’d ocean it then it is elsewhere.  It is ocean in who senses its bones and it all comes from the same source…

This bone speaks crunch crunch abyss crunch     Captain crunch all buried     This catastrophe


//
Why is this: This     This body this horror

(CUNY philosopher Noël Carroll notes:  “It is a remarkable fact about the creatures of horror that very often do not seem to be of sufficient strength to make a grown man cower.  A teetering zombie or severed hand would appear incapable of mustering enough force to overpower a coordinated six-year old.  Nevertheless, they are presented as unstoppable, and this seems psychologically acceptable to audiences.”  Why is this?)

Why is this: This     This descent decay (My horror does not originate from strength but from deformation delay, the disheveled grotesque of my body.  The horror of my body originates in its crunch and catastrophe, and my bones speak as a teetering zombie and a severed hand in my body cuts into my body: This.  This body tuned in this horror teeters horrific catastrophe.  My bones speak odd horror oddities.)

Why is this: bones and bones speak 

(I mean it’s pretty bare bones, says Asia.  Just some rocks and a sponge filter, but I had to sanitize everything.
I hate them and their TEETH, says Asia.  Worse than horses.  At least they don’t have weird legs and hidden finger bones.
Opalized dinosaur bones, says Asia.  I want a chest piece of a sun motif, says Asia.  Yes, going up to my collar bone.)

Why is this: This     I filter but them bones     This them bones (I believe them bones are me   some say we’re born into the grave   I feel so alone   gonna end up a big ol’ pile of them bones)

I filter but them bones     This and this philosopher remarkable creatures (I resemble a remarkable creature: creature assemblages assemblage bone collages     I resemble a philosopher and an alchemist and my bones stir the cauldrons)      I filter opalized going mean I horses / at dinosaur up it had least bones


//
This horror resembles them bones and this crunch of remarkable creature

Only canyon subtle philosophical better
	Only canyon this decay
	I to pretty to they want my bare sanitize
	Philosophical better malpractice node vulcanization difference her

(Dead end?  Always dead end.  Bones speak dead end and horror models philosophical mortality.  Listen to Morton Feldman or John Cage or John Coltrane – how does John Coltrane playing the long solo?  Why is this?)

Dead end why is this     Them send hidden fingers bones     Just some rocks and hidden finger bones

Why is this: This long Coltrane solo and the music signifies forwards and backwards dead end. … I listen to All My Friends by LCD Soundsystem:  You spend the first five years trying to get with the plan and the next five years trying to be with your friends again […] Though we’re running out of the drugs and the conversations are grinding away   I wouldn’t trade one stupid decision for another five years of life […] Where are your friends tonight if I could see all my friends tonight…
What is this: horror of age and horror of decay.  Nostalgic horror.  I age.  I nostalgic.  LCD Soundsystem plays for me: If I could see all my friends tonight.  If I could see Krystal or Taryn tonight (I mean it’s clunky lone bone.  Just some rocks and a sponge filter but I had to sabotage everything).  Only language subtle creature reminders / weird tell and finger bones.  I find my this in the multiphonic crunch of the long John Coltrane solo: it is ocean in whole sense all comes from who same source.
//


Why is this: This     This desert this decay     This decay seven sermons of the dead     This as this desert decay that simultaneously preserves my human body grotesque… This body monsters

This body: this human body slowly decays and betrays     This human body ben adam adds hen to pan a porous flesh and rotting flesh (my flesh rots decayed rhizome / flesh leaves flesh petals my flesh flattened and preserved in heavy books

This body
	I want a chest piece of sponge filter but I had to my collar bone
This body
	(Double dose of shock!  A blood-dripping brain transplant turns a maniac into a monster
	 Brain of Blood)
This human slowly decays into a teetering zombie or a severed hand.  This humans human ocean from the nostalgic same source

Why is this: every horror movie mulches mortal bodies     This just some rocks and a sun motif     Yes, going up to sanitize everything


//
My bones speak crunch crunch crunch / my bones catastrophe crunch decay

I age.  I create nostalgia ocean than it is elsewhere.  This is a song for me.  If I could see all my friends tonight
	(The drink you spilt all over me
	 “Lover’s Spit” left on repeat
	 My mom and dad left me stay home
	 It drives you crazy, getting old…)
I age.  I reminisce.  I let the songs speak for me.  I’m doomed, aren’t I?  Dead end.  I will die soon, right?  No, I only destroy and decay into remarkable creatures and monsters tell me why I don’t like mondays.  I listen to “Ribs” by Lorde and I rewrite a dream again Krystal and reeling through the midnight streets and fearing getting old.  Christina and I listen to Hey Jealousy by Gin Blossoms.  Nostalgia destroys me and buries me mass graves seasons of the abyss.

My teeth eat nostalgia.  My teeth touch death dead end mending wall.  My teeth applies melodic wallpaper and paper mace crinoline (linoleum limousine mouse     Christina I need you so much closer)
	(You’re a wasted face   You’re a sad-eyed lie   You’re a holocaust)
My face disappears in the spectre of my face.  My face dissipates by nostalgic apparitions (vapor voluptuous vapor Christina towards my death and dying)
	Worse motif to teeth
	Chest bones opalized rocks
	I bare them at I and fingers

I don’t see you anymore since the hospital (I listen to more Christina.  Listen to my age and my body creature decays.  Listen to more Gin Blossoms.  I haven’t seen you in ages but it’s not as bleak as it seems.  We still dance in whirling stages in my Busby Berkeley Dreams).  I dream my decay strange Christina.  Christina the banshee presided over my body bag details.  Christina the psychopomp and my human body slowly decays and betrays.  This human body ben adam adds hen to pan a porous flesh and a rotting flesh (a cult of undead creatures seek fresh warm human blood!   Vampire People).  Christina the banshee accompanies me to the underworld as a psychopomp.  Dreaming of Mercy Street.  Well the band has stopped playing but we keep dancing.  The world keeps turning.  Christina dances my death.
//


Why is this: This     This desert this decay     This decay models the remarkable fact about creatures of horror
	Opalized dinosaur bones
	I back a chest piece on a cut rotor hat, going up to my collarbone

Horror.  Why is this?  This.  This.  This incapable of mustering enough force.  This presenting as unstoppable.  Horror: this desert this decay and my body betrays.  The song betrays.  Its ocean from its same sources.

Sabotage Instills Descent

Sabotage instills descent: sabotage distills descent

Sabotage descends distilled descent: spread saints straw stickers (I descend where my own brain sabotages me.  I descend unaware into frequent nightmares.  Nightmares nurse my brain nursing nightmares machine descent brain horrors.  Every horror movie models mortality.  My brain judges my daily nursing frequent nightmares, a machine for producing horror movies.  I descend where my brain nurses surreal and automatic initiation into automatic mysteries.)

Sabotage instills descent
	Her last supper margaritas in the mall
	My body mall lot burns manganese anamnesis / 
	  mangrove eye cataracts contact chessboards
Sabotage distills descent and descent drags sabotages holy ghost

Sabotage plant stem stilettos plane stew / a maniacal killer in red rain coat     My manic brain wears red and sword red and arrow red and red manic brain kills off American tourists on a tour bus by gouging out my eyeballs (my eyeballs float their eyeballs)

Sabotage distills descent and descent and models horrific descent and every eye gazes into my eye impossible.  Sabotage distills my descent into my horrific descent and my brain declines into holy spirit sabotage.  I exist in horror which sabotages all horror and my body descends into haunted houses.  My body descends as haunted houses.


//
Every horror movie models mortality     Every horror movie models mottle mortal motets     Mottle models motet mouths moths and midnight moths unmetered mortality     Moth mortal minutes or molecules: mosh pit macromolecules     Mortar mortar minutes…

Every horror movie models my body as haunted house and bloody bridal chamber.  My body Book contains every horror movie and the horror judges my morality as guilty and absolutely guilty, and the sabotaged holy spirit condemns me.

Every human movie models mortality / horror distracts me     Horror distracts and redirects the horror of my body (body repeats the horror of the body     my body hot parking lot burns manganese anamnesis – mangrove eye cataract contact chessboard)

Every horror movie models my morality and mortality.  Horror creaks creek death and copper death and death descends with sabotaged holy spirit.  Horror reprints creeping death and Christina death and always crucifixions (death always bounces the checks it writes me).  Horror models repeated riptide suicides / Dan Cooper jumps out the backseat suicides suicide doors).

Horror taunts my aging health and my thumb buzzes with possible carpal tunnel

I slowly die slowly dying my hand buzzing analog horror
	The map says you’re fucked
	The map says we’re fucked
My hand buzzes biro bitter sitter (Philip K. Dick sister?  Sitting sister)

Circular ruins rambling / nonsense:  I obsess with nonsense

Ridiculous body horror (For a moment, I felt very unreal and the people in my life didn’t exist, and suddenly, I snapped backwards and I suddenly felt real again.  I shaped the fins of my skull into suicide doors and suddenly felt real again.)

Some film critics condemned it as a violent splatter film, while others praised it for its dramatic content.  My body splatters across the room action painting and abstract expressionism.

(Reality is that, which when you stop believing in it, doesn’t go away.  My graphomania for the Book always exists.  This electricity in my body persists.  Kindred and Pando remain.)
//


Sabotage instills descent: sabotage distills descent

I descent into horror and every horror movie mulches mortal bodies     Every horror movie mashes murder into my marbled/mottled bodies.  My upside-down body tailspins sabotage (I spin head rooster rotas).

I descend into distilled horror and I spin hen to pan panoply / polyphonic flesh
	Body horror witch hag hungry bodies mortal mouths
Mouths mulch human mouths man body horror (Body horror hallelujah     Hallelujah junction / disjunct body horror)