life is proof of what lies beneath of time? no. messengers, engaged in godlike transformation upstairs, in a room upstairs, in a magic (mystic) space there, by the dunes sleek, orgiastic & frayed the first wild thrash of dawn he is young, not pretty, using words or sacrifice at last a light ascends how do we [...]
My latest experiment in collage art: "The Invitation".
I find myself in a curious position. You see, I’ve been considering deleting The Used Life, or at least, making it private. I haven’t told anyone that until now, but I’m just not deriving as much enjoyment from the blog as I have in the past. I’m not as engaged. More importantly, I don’t feel [...]
now is air and being human speech and so it isn’t small (when at first delicate signs of life) we speak into being what doesn’t exist word, not bone thunder or magic seed but great blue-green sweltering miracle because all life is assembled as wreckage explodes first, then radiates its nearness like the sun mind [...]
i. the serpent changes mad galactic fictions of seers and mystics and rock & roll shamans somewhere, a young man is alive and hears himself resisting neither stays nor leaves ii. aura tournament of silence artifacts of love hidden in an empty room with only vague notions of what must be saved iii. naked backstreet [...]
My latest experiment in collage art: Untitled, Cosmic Highway. Wishing you all a groovy weekend.
situation is parallel water to sleep on and water to wake you perspective is mystical elongated mind like recurrent water consciousness at terrapin high noon the present is the middle of this phrase on leaving tigers miss the mark
another day under an unconditioned sun & we drift unthinkable fresh air (rising) invents another sun (not the same) a white wind blows over transitions away from time cold collective mind & the search for rapidly returning present gravity the distance between walking & a string not the same in lavender as in circles (pigments [...]
Nearly three weeks ago, I mentioned that one of the dill plants in my garden had attracted some caterpillars. Or, rather, attracted a female butterfly who laid her eggs there. As of the date of that publication, I had been watching fourteen very cute and vibrantly colored eastern black swallowtail caterpillars grow and eat (and [...]
as if the future is falling behind me vast and uninhabited like a cool primitive moon a man, his skin is dry and upright like leather (they’ve killed the city; the city is dead) his voice is high and catatonic hands dangle like two blind prophets somewhere in a desert essence of reptiles scarlet sandcastles [...]
