Wednesday, December 28, 2005

subjunctive rearticulation project

Something fails to realize, somethings cast to another opaque profit bloom elsewhere. I ask someone for more time in a field of time, where there is chokehold on language, in the masses, in the throat, in a gag reaction, in the unbroken people yesterday, today, and tomorrow. Afraid to speak to something anything, fearing the fear of fear, afraid to speak to the fear of fear, or tell tail hearts turning to tell, something rewritten to too many forgotten in the first mistaken, before not written, even though even than, to be sure who is listening, staged to invade the margins, informants securing premises, quotation marks disappearing and reappearing, guessing who is is, is coming, got beef, got dinner, got intermission, bathroom break, just checking to see who is listening, who is looking, who is here under what underneath layer of flesh. The many missing, maybe miasma over riding the impossible possible, over determined nonbeliever, in between believing and not, skeptic short term, long term undoing between lines, between friends and foe, between constantly undoing the frame as backdrop, set design, in the theater conquest subzero life preserver, held against the will, against a need for non time, against the need for a name, for a non-ambiguous starting point, words within linguistic limits, spontaneous self formation, manifest inherent thing source, inevitable self rearrangement, acknowledging the road does not exist, the line does not exist, forever is forever broken, never a conduit for listening. We need our ears to the ground, interpreters, translations, lost radio waves, static sound bites coming in loud and clear, lost nowhere with nowhere else to go, nomadic wanderings, shifting identities, not non not identities, with accompments extremist throwing hand grenade like sowing beans, nor not not, or undulating particles, soil, ash, fire, wood, iron, lead, rust, and decay, shimmering purity of pure decay in gradual decay, notches and stems, broken and worn, melting forms that met one another into another’s broader borders, in a manner of speaking, blinking unblinking eyes, blinking eager to breach the wall, with hand, thumbs fingers, calling out our blood is your blood, our hours isyour house of the same difference, listening for another exit possibility to exist, in an another others cry for love


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