04 October 2006

report 000010: autumn in the hinterlands

no. 1: shit, slinger. it's always when we--when
we (turning) forget--live a little, that these neural pathways accumulate dust, gather a bit of rust in our saltlick sweet-drenched mornings. a veritable moveable feast for your running.

(spits, slants, grins) there's music in the air tonight, honey. honey: bloodrust: ballpoint& carry. the old syntax up again: no forgetting what's in your veins, the slick fragrant killer bubbled through--

bioaccumulation. we don't forget, & shouldn't. i make a move for the reinstation of the comma, for the friendliness of parataxis, for--oh, how i'd almost forgotten!--the curious side-by-sides of it, the trip/stumble/lunge after: an appropriate bedward arc. i've broken my rhythm.

there are days when that's all fine. these are they.

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