My Madness V

remaining emptiness

ever this : her glistening

breasts which in rich

aroma

favoured * Setting <her> @flame :

a star divines its spinning

within . . . hyperbolic as woven

in the mystic allegria

not more : our union with

the lilacs' bleeding * of their inner odour

which is unspoken

sin/syn/sim:

our

absent breath

<?>

this wreckage

of (self/iconic poetics), of

the scorched body's burning desire

lightness to

dis * sippiant urges

would manifest tame your,

imprison your,

to frame your voice :

control becomes axiomatic

re-visioning * suffering mimeticism

where the jubilant syntax

curls into silence,

in a pouring rain

mosaic : an intricate

trading of intimacy for attention

or skewed awareness of

|flesh|sim|flesh|

our own mirrored eyes

the world's emoted reflection

Comments: 1

Will Evans Oct 7, 2006, 7:56am EDT

It's late. I've been up since 4am, I wrote four of these things today. I'm tired and going to sleep. Forgive me. I'll finish this up tomorrow. oh, yeah and I suppose I owe you some thoughts as to what's going on in Will's head. Once you know the future, you can accelerate. The way it's done by axiomatic statues in ancient temples or by one's sleek furniture. Self-effacement is not a virtue, for the loci is still self, but a necessity, recognised most often toward twilight. Though numerically it is easier not to be me than not to be you. As the swan confessed to the lake: I don't much care for myself. But you are welcome to my reflection, and then slipped through the mirror.

"An age in rapid transition is one which exists on the frontier between two cultures and between conflicting technologies. Every moment of its consciousness is an act of translation of each of these cultures into the other. Today we live on the frontier between five centuries of mechanism and the new electronics."
~McLuhan, Sharpie on my bathroom wall. Whatever. Pop-culture sucker.

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