14 de novembro de 2009

Elapsed Country Yard

A place where tones sneak under the caps of the Unformed heads, I walked.

Photo by Alice

In the middle of Water-Base voices, my ears stooped in chisel sounds and tried to talk. But the lips moved away on a trip for the…

Distorted characters looked behind no Eyes in the faces of nowhere, and no words I could taste.

I sat and wait for the Answerers in the hollow dirt, full of missing points and dead ends.
The Bucolic Worm was coming for the season, to devour sins made of clay. So was draw in the prophetic mist.
The Answerers start sewing their hands on the ground, frightened and tremulous with a red wire.
No hands can be free.

I stared in motion of steps.
Following the beats of Air.
A glare…

I laid my back in this pulsing earth, looking trough, no wavelength sky.
My thoughts concealed and some frumpy clouds started to rain in monosyllabic beings.

The Me in She was no He in Him.

I was seeing with my head not with my eyes.

Skins of ashes were falling down, slowly into the magnetic snow.
Icy corpses were melting in colors and shades of the past sentences.
And sunny drops started to flow into the river.
The dendritic spines of mud, as they called it.

All the vanishing concepts of reality were drowning…

Time is now a forgotten name in this space.

Music : Ghosts on Magnetic Tape II - Bass Communion

1 comentário:

Anónimo disse...

great article. I would love to follow you on twitter.