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“sentences”

// is skittering across vast plains of starfields, leaving trails of galaxies behind as if they were only dust in the wind, the darkmatter vaccuum; lifted breezes upwards and outwards, pulsing on invisible shockwaves pruning the light from splinters of leaves looking through them at what’s left, out of the rolling hills of valleys pure&deserted—dissolving nouns into verbs by the nature of their own inconstancy and irreverance, but driven by the force of each projection, a propulsion through the incongruous universe, outside of cognizance, but creating so out of salty dough from imagined patterns like rhythm, syntactical timbre, and then letting them bake in the sun to become the relics of these interactions, the relations formed time&time again against such uncertain backdrops; could not possibly understand these contexts, for each is set differently in each different mind, the dried shells&statuettes placed in rows on a shelf set low on the patio shingles

// if have you not begun to undress these lacings over trees, hidden in backalley rosegarden factories, then it is recommended that we alter our perception of time as redefining the terms altogether—doing away with past present future, and engaged instead with only before now after—and to debate endlessly the differences between these words, between all of the words as a whole and the structure in which they’ve been set, and by what; could not possibly be only this in relation, to the emptiness void, shadows against nothingness, but it is as slowly it peels off layers of clothing and returns foreign&familiar to a nudity which has been replicated from birth, and sparking forth the debate between what was blank and what was engraved prior—and as it creeps underneath lurking terrors of our most fundamental urges to ask and to declare, bubbles in the futility of constructing ricket-shod ladders toward heaven, seeking to draw&paint shapeless figures and colorless landscapes

// as if frozen wasteland tundras collapse lightyears and apply cryogenics to all spacetime, we are arriving simply at the crossroadjuncture, of many paths and many journeys, but stopped yet like the atom before it splits—into the lava of fermenting melt acryllics’memory drifts lost in the fumes, given to that subtle-pleasure high, in which all of it seems miles&smiles below; plurality confined into singularity; to be left for wonder at where it will go, of what taken and taken from, just before accelerating through lush fern valleys floating inches above the pebble-creek floor, intertwining interculary tangents, moved by algorithmic intersections on the tangent line,bursting then from the locus of points—mathematical formulas which formulate upon our sense of reason, of perception against the complexes of outside existence; the exigent circumstances of living, and it is as if at this very moment we have emerged beyond a scope of what previously we thought to be impossible

// into the breadth of flash delirium, for it is though are not what speaks to me this eve and daylight pass, because tonight is the longest night and tomorrow shall be the longest barren day: these things may come, and arrive like sparrows nesting in your hair or owls perched upon your shoulder, and in those solemn hours passing by in electric winds you will discover the secrets hidden between first and third person, the complete obliteration of tense; happening all together now in the paralyzing shock of the cityscape torn to shreds of glowing neon— disappearing through glitches and wormholes, back around from where it first began and endings far too soon or far too late; lost to the indulgences of celebrity look-a-like fraud, burying oneself lonesome further into the verb to be

// because this is unraveling like dreams wrapped in red sand, is pouring it down to slide&spill over the edges, fill boxes, make castle kingdoms come into glory and drop into ruin at the judgement of the tide; if it fills this way—if it feels this way— to creep across surfaces yet unspoiled, and then to spoil them, as in the prismatic white, which is all of the colors entirely—the blackness of the text, then, is always a statement of the void, the signifier&signified which is always both and always in relation to; the measures of epiphany, phenom-reason, such as it is only an imagination invisible sewing clear string through water, and as it passes, transforms into crystalline rods firm in their rooting, so too the sand fills and feels burning, becoming desert fields glass, snowdusted topsoil with fall-out from the initial blast

// striking flint into straw scorching primitive origins into the entire web of human development, curling from the flames as fibers of hair, if for no other reason than to see how life&death happen together, in unison, and the lives and deaths of all things sharing their collective conciousness, and unconsciousness; for as it comes between then does imply them two, always, the present messages of the gemini, and as the third comes from this, yes, for as it falls between the cracks of zero to one and one to two and two to three it reaches these mysterious and ancient mathematics of the infinity—sparksdrop blurred, out-of-focus, billions of them

// be it on the cusp of something once another and pursed into the lips of æons embracing and in this way divine; if before you see it happen becomes matter and is simply a matter of believing in makebelieve laughter &folkstory tales inbetween the real and the unreal, inbetween what foreign, and yet familiar, and if we could live here, the two of us together—be it only on just the cusp, sinking into sand-tune saxophones on the verge and to see only those two surrounding voids through thin glass—to sit alone on the shore’s tide receding dunes, pretending to reign from a liminal throne overlooking the cosmos glitter spilt stained shattered windowpane pixels tilt along the solarsystem’s axis,as if a fundamental threat——to spacetime,by capturing that central moment, the immediate instantflash of the elements collide

// constant running constance rhymes with street-art propositions in chemical sprays across the pillars of enterprise, illusions of salvation prosperity called to war caught waging watergun battles across the lawns of suburbia—returning to childhood as subversive manifesto scribbled from purges testament to what dementia, this unfitting squeeze into social pre-structure, ordained destiny of a common profit; and meaninglessness as empowerment, for we have learned such circumstances early—in lessons learned through observance constant, running rhythms over the streets of miniature empires, toward the empty promise of constancy, a union so absolute it cancels out the sun and dismembers the divisions&contrast between all sensation—and our nature, then, seems to be all-out revolution, revolving over&over again, jumbled every time along the edges, as the structure of both atom and universe and adam falling for eve in the beginning forms ending instantaneously, of the globe being circled by the moon and circling then the cancelled sun like laying in the grass at midnight, watching the skyworks before you

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2010

Independently printed & bound.

the novel, Syzygy, available at avocadoimprint.yolasite.com or at independent bookstores. See site for local listings.

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