Monday, May 30, 2011

Thresholds, tongues
held. Hell

is self-consciousness,
thoughtless nests,

nets or
knotted chords.

Notes leak
out of

what surrounds
one's aporias.

*

What is
thinking called?

--Dancing, war,
sex, writing?

--Being, language,
maths, noise?

*

I had
a seizure

that I
don't remember.

Tore me
apart, put

me together,
rearranged.

*

Drums and
guitar mirror
one another.

Attention, practice
always entwined
in exchange.

*

Wherever I
am you're
someplace else.

Location,

location,

location.

*

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