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28 May 2016 @ 04:32 pm
i want eagles in my daydreams and diamonds in my eyes  
1. the body as a dramatic gesture, the body as a withered rose.

2. curled in on itself and hidden from view: hidden from view: hidden from view. everything hidden from view. everything valuable concealed from judgment, envy, and potential theft.

3. because the body can be stolen, the mind taken prisoner.

4. because we think we know the shape of things but really what we have is a map, poorly translated and flattened to nonsense. because we think we know the shape of things but what we really have is word of mouth, because did you have any idea? what is the shape of things?

5. the body as a dramatic gesture. the body as a withered rose. the body as one's own addendum, always tagging along:

6. i am the passenger. i stay under glass.

7. at times we fall out of it, confused or traumatized, something to hide, someone to conceal, something or someone to protect with a clever facade doomed to take over the show. but back to my tale: the slow curve, the hitching lock. the way every limb moves gradually toward chaos, arm bulging at the hand, hand branching into fingers, fingers culminating in galaxy whorls and spirals:

8. every finger its own nation, distinct unto itself, distinguished by scars and stars, the diverging rivers of our specification.

9. body as gesture.

10. body as rose.

11. sometimes we lose ourselves. sometimes we find ourselves lost.

12. lost to ourselves we crumple to the dirt, writhe around in the dirt, forget our manners in the dirt, serve as a new entry to the underworld. when you look at me next seek out my true boundaries. there's a matter right at border patrol and: and: and:

13. look. i am a creature of surfaces and interiors. look into my eyes to see my unnamed thoughts pantomiming daily activities as part of this game we play. look into my eyes, enter the soul's lobby and follow the course back, into the whites of my eyes. back, into the labyrinth folds of my brain. back, into the reinforced packaging strategy of my skull, where the matter of my thinking goes rigid with the crisis of it and fizzles out in interminable strands of gray-streaked hair.

14. look into my eyes, literally or figuratively, and figure out: what does this mean? where does it go? who does it make us? how will we ever go on?

15. bluster through the circumstances.

16. make it seem intentional. make it seem like you had no choice.

17. sons and daughters.

18. students and players.

19. again, we say, again: and i kneel before my altar, hands strong with the scent of anointing oil. and i kneel before my altar, notebook before me, one word after the next, frantically, one word again another word.

20. one word again another word.

21. this letter to the goddess i am ever writing, ever channeling down stranger sublimations. i look through my window so bright. this letter to the goddess that is my autobiography. that is my murder mystery. that is my still unfolding obituary: look. look. look!

22. the student is ready but the master cannot be summoned.

23. the master is in a broom closet summoning the devil.

24. what does it mean that the student still hears?

25. there's a letter to the goddess, if one there ever was.


 
 
music: david bowie - blackstar
 
 
 
(Anonymous) on May 29th, 2016 01:50 am (UTC)
Its almost a beautiful kind of physiognomy

"the way every limb moves toward chaos,arm bulging at the hand, hand branching into fingers, fingers culminating in galaxy whorls and spirals"
well this is just perfect I couldn't help but think of Da Vinci's Vitruvian Man
selva oscuraanonymousblack on May 30th, 2016 05:19 pm (UTC)
physiognomy totally works. and ha, i have a weird and difficult to explain history with that da vinci work, not that you'd expect anything less of me.