Understanding the Computer/Box Project
Something tells me I'm not ready for this...go to bed, Miki. Go to bed.
Memorials
Your song, the succinct
memorial. The body breaks under the immense
pressure of a the syncopation of your heart beats.
Railroads break under pressure of use, of grinding
steel and the wrought iron torture of the sound
against the landscape. How can places hold the
dolor of your machinery?
Your song, the syncopated heartbeat, grinding against
murmurs of the totality of darkness. When light breaks
you creak your knees to take it in. Stand up to memorialize that
broadness . Listen to the rhythm of your footsteps. Your foot falls
and radiates against the ground and the same nature that propels you
is a reaction, solid in your heart beat.
I, memorial, a constriction in time. My head against the door I can’t
feel the murmur of your movement. I knock a beat across your door
that radiates against an empty room. A sound for no one, which sleeps
a barren message. I clamor (this invisible devise) down the stairs.
Can you understand the mechanics of a conversation lost in
a silence
juxtaposed with footsteps?
No one BREAKS
in the landscape
of walking away from a
bad situation.
Railroads, memorialize, in song, a scenic background. I want to
move quickly against this scenic backdrop. I want to
break bonds and shoot arrows into the pressure of your arteries. I want to
take it all in and travel in letters towards a better understanding of how our
machinery breaks bodies, time, and silence. I want to listen to the body under
movement. Listen to the passages of the body’s movement. Trees sway with their
ramified parts (they: nerve endings)
sway the syncopations like a heartbeat. How your veins could move inside you like waves of parasites, rubbing their tiny rings in red and blue
across the board, across the body.
I don’t want to sing in the dark.
This is my last word, before I take it in. I memorialize with memorization of
your body in movement and when light breaks your gone; no motion in sandstone,
concrete images of your fast breathing. I once listened to the sound of your heartbeat. I
can walk in circles against the time; I become knowledgeable of the sound of
your heart break. A loud noise can send a
shiver through your memory and the sound of moving away,
of the corroded machinery careening through the backdrop
creates: US, this resonant landscape.
A landscape memorializing the travels of lonely people.
+++++++
I just got a look at Gaylen's project...interesting. The beeping mechanism needs one of those pecking water birds. Who knew these out of date computers could be useful in their uselessness?
Memorials
Your song, the succinct
memorial. The body breaks under the immense
pressure of a the syncopation of your heart beats.
Railroads break under pressure of use, of grinding
steel and the wrought iron torture of the sound
against the landscape. How can places hold the
dolor of your machinery?
Your song, the syncopated heartbeat, grinding against
murmurs of the totality of darkness. When light breaks
you creak your knees to take it in. Stand up to memorialize that
broadness . Listen to the rhythm of your footsteps. Your foot falls
and radiates against the ground and the same nature that propels you
is a reaction, solid in your heart beat.
I, memorial, a constriction in time. My head against the door I can’t
feel the murmur of your movement. I knock a beat across your door
that radiates against an empty room. A sound for no one, which sleeps
a barren message. I clamor (this invisible devise) down the stairs.
Can you understand the mechanics of a conversation lost in
a silence
juxtaposed with footsteps?
No one BREAKS
in the landscape
of walking away from a
bad situation.
Railroads, memorialize, in song, a scenic background. I want to
move quickly against this scenic backdrop. I want to
break bonds and shoot arrows into the pressure of your arteries. I want to
take it all in and travel in letters towards a better understanding of how our
machinery breaks bodies, time, and silence. I want to listen to the body under
movement. Listen to the passages of the body’s movement. Trees sway with their
ramified parts (they: nerve endings)
sway the syncopations like a heartbeat. How your veins could move inside you like waves of parasites, rubbing their tiny rings in red and blue
across the board, across the body.
I don’t want to sing in the dark.
This is my last word, before I take it in. I memorialize with memorization of
your body in movement and when light breaks your gone; no motion in sandstone,
concrete images of your fast breathing. I once listened to the sound of your heartbeat. I
can walk in circles against the time; I become knowledgeable of the sound of
your heart break. A loud noise can send a
shiver through your memory and the sound of moving away,
of the corroded machinery careening through the backdrop
creates: US, this resonant landscape.
A landscape memorializing the travels of lonely people.
+++++++
I just got a look at Gaylen's project...interesting. The beeping mechanism needs one of those pecking water birds. Who knew these out of date computers could be useful in their uselessness?