Mo Elements of Crossfire

A biting chill is heat personified in my wildest dreams and the lot is not cold any longer when they come into fusion the glaciers turn into drinking water filled with remnants of the animals. Something turns inside of me in a writhing movement of a wheel of muscle. Technology is suffused with guilt and I opened the lid on my best friend's head and freed him of it so he no longer cawed when he slept on his bed of glass beads any longer. We delivered each other food back and forth while we experienced the vast landscape of the python and the weeping crayons broke up our war for the night so we could flip coins and count the hairs on each others scalp. Anytime I thought to grant myself permission to unload drastic amounts of chemical wordplay I would scratch a node into the clay where we buried electricity. Blank viscous erasers in me left a wall in the silences so I could rub my hands together long enough to create a whirling ball of energy. Once upon a time I erected a hut where I would sell beautiful handmade puppets with porcelain eyes but that is missing the point. A livid, raw tangent always floated up from the floor of the small pond in that depressed park by the road and I could see that it was always turning over and turning over with dynamic fervor and it was moving higher and higher, surrounded by flies and gnats and grass. They would usher the impolite dialogue into the first available aerial discussion chamber that resembled an enclosed Heaven. Our minds seemed far flung enough that it wouldn't put us terribly out of the way to go cheer along the waters edge like roosters summoning an army of violent grasshoppers whose wings were ablaze as they would rub their legs together to create enchanted songs of separation and reunion.

Tale of Slain Child

Man approached me while I was standing up against a brick wall along a building that was made into a Flatiron facsimile. He approached me and we started talking. I asked him: "How's it going"... He began to tell me about what had happened the day before where a 8 year old boy had gotten murdered on the very corner we had been standing on. He said "The boy was walking with his family while they was crossing the street and a guy comes pulling up to the intersection really fast without slowing down until he sees them people crossing and finally hits his breaks at the last second." He continued, "The woman says to the guy in the car "Hey slow down! Are you trying to fucking kill somebody?"... Next thing you knew the guy had parked his car and walked over into the Chinese Restaurant, stepped back outside, walked over to the 3 of them standing there by the road and pulled a gun out and fired it into the head of the 8 year old boy. RIght there in front of his mother and his sister". I said "that's really horrible". He started to explain how when the summer started to come into full effect that the crimes worsened. Alot... People weren't as mellow and relaxed as they had been under the sedative effects of Winter. The chase for money was on and with that came the contests to see how many woman a man could fuck in a day resulting in children being born who never should've been brought into this world. THE ROAR OF THE TRAIN CAME ROLLIN ON DOWN ALONG AND I DON'T THINK HE HEARD THE LAST FEW WORDS THAT CAME FROM MY MOUTH AND I MAY HAVE NOT KNOWN WHAT I HAD SAID. He disappeared into the crowd. His name was Jacob.

There Are Many A Time When My Words Fail But They Are All I Have

Give all it was that you intended to. More than you intended to.
If it takes a year or several lifetimes.
I can be a conduit for your transgressions.
I will swallow your aggravated attempts at overcoming THAT night.
We are like two electric birds skimming the tips of the blades of green grass and getting a cut up treatment along our journey.
Will you stand beside me now that I am gushing with the evidence of having travelled through an empty field?
It's a great mistake to take what you think will not kill you out of pristine waters that have gathered over time.
When we find a transforming melody that we can feel moving along with our interior throbbing movements we will know.
This is the one.
This is the one.
This is surely it and we will play it repeatedly no matter what others say.
We will use it to put those who scorned us and called us vacuous and without faith inside of a giant red balloon that flies high.
Simple buildings out of wood will seem like they cannot be torched while gazing through the material that had been used.
Gazing through the hot air you must believe our structure cannot be torn down, yet again... and yet.. It must all come down.
It is as it was and is no longer and is yet to become and remains not inevitable as long as you did not conceive it to appear so.
I can be a conduit for your blood and serve as a landmark for the division between the anterior and posterior.
But tonight I will not leave my own room where the lightbulbs flicker and explode without warning.

Going Through the Ringer

It's nearing 11:00 on this breezy Saturday night in Brooklyn, New York City. I've been considering nothing. I've been speaking to no one. I'm in search of nothing except for the capsule of attrition already inside. Terse fluidity has become my way. Sometimes subtle, sometimes less than subtle, sometimes building, sometimes crescendo. Mothers of hell collect up my bones and put them on board the revolving ship of my imagination and let it sail where it pleases.

I kinetic

Nothing To Say Right Now

Sorry. Soon to come...