cold
wet confetti
I swallow my hands

The “infinite” as I use the term is a formal category, which can have more than one type of experiential content. The infinite refers to that category of experiences which suggests an understanding of our humanness as radically open to becoming, such that every attempt to enforce a fixed identity on human beings amounts to an act of oppression ( Read more... )

The future haunts me, he thinks--and unborn thoughts float on forever, bobbing carelessly ( Read more... )

( Read more... )

o_farol

Friday I slept. That is to say, I fell up, and somehow managed to get to work, where I wept & puked nose-dripping into the big hot swampy garbage can in the back till they sent me home. And then I went to sleep...for two days.

¡Viva la Revolucion!

new moist tongues in the hot morning sun drip sensually supercilious breathless flood half-drunk restless kissing in pairs bearing the same unique scars hazy blasé eyes stare into sleep-crust eyes & the ants slink by till we’re bombarded lying naked sticky surrounded looking guilty astounded yet silent like infinitesimal unhappy voices tender slave ( Read more... )

“I curse my self! I consider myself lucky!”--Sappho, 19 April 2012 ( Read more... )

“for moral reasons...the world appears to me to be put together in such a painful way that I prefer to believe that it was not created...intentionally.”

So the sulk of the long-lost traveler, track-tied, famished, weary & wine-hazed, sitting cross-legged, mouth-breathing forget-me-nots, eyes shut, humming the timeless tune of Sunbleached Waltz, ever in search of the soulless universal, all past experience, all prescience discarded, worst fears realized, usurped & buried, willy-nilly, in the desert ( Read more... )