On the train, out of the corner of my eye, I saw my seatmate cross herself. Forehead, heart, left shoulder, right shoulder, lips (tiny kiss sound). I thought it was the music she was listening to on her shiny black iPod, maybe religious music, so I stole another glance. But it was Silk. I craned… Continue reading found photo, commuter train in japan
look inside this book!
you’d think we were sorcerers or astrophysicists, the way we dole out stars to products and services from our unlimited supply of judgement.
isn’t ten years long enough
in between feedings, from a far-off fold deep in the valleys of my intestines, comes the plangent vibration of a bell. the ringing is never loud but it is persistent, and spreads to my head faster than a shudder. i miss my freedom. from resonance to shudder, from shudder to ooze. a big ooze. a… Continue reading isn’t ten years long enough
two pens, new notebook
with every sweet drop thatmy mouth enjoys thereare 99 devils thattake a molecule for them-selves and yet thiswill not satisfy theirticklish bellies sothey askfor more.
36 degrees farenheit with snowfall and limited visibility
like birds waking one by one in the morning, singing before they can feed, women call and croon to their children or lovers once they are settled in their seats: i’ll see you soon. i can’t wait to see you. honey. then their voices clamp shut, pass the time, until another call to check in… Continue reading 36 degrees farenheit with snowfall and limited visibility
excuses
last week i thought it was the Russians. i blamed their aching orchestrations, familiar and distant. Tchaikovsky, Stravinsky, Rachmaninoff. finally, the broadcasts finished. this week i blame Marguerite Duras. how can one read a novel titled The Malady of Death and not fall through the cracks, fall to a high and lonely place? the stillness.… Continue reading excuses
to write oneself better
please summon all cells to the important task of healing.flow with the blood,bring fresh air to the empty places, starved for breath. burn a little. let the wounds receive a new layer of skin,revive, feel what it is like to live again. the pressure can sublimate — pass from a solid painto an evaporated nothing.
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all this time denouncing the screen: i’m sick of the screen, tied to the screen. this is the right idea for interactive projects in general, but maybe not so for text and the written word. what’s wrong with a surface, after all? a video projection extends the page, is as limiting as the page, but… Continue reading [ ]
let go
this beat is getting me electric. laid-back ecstatic. if you want a ride, don’t ride the white horse. my perfect traintrack. i checked every seat, no one left a half-devoured New York Times for me. my friend didn’t get on today, or he hasn’t left Boston yet. can’t postpone the lack of inspiration, have to look it… Continue reading let go
so she says
this one has the means but not the dreams. gifts and treasures of the sharp mind and luscious flesh. a dream is not something you can give, you can’t ribbon-wrap and tissue-sheath a purpose. to make them come true, they need to be there in the first place. a dream is a chicken, an egg… Continue reading so she says