| | | dowsing | | |

  on my most honest from inside and delusional from outside days i am evolution i am an alien i am the next iteration hidden  in  plain sight but maybe this is the entire thing  of being human the exact thing we are always togetherandalone in 

the birds are very close up here where it is easy and essential to turn your ankles  each each way in the morning to sustain on peanutbutter a slow come down off  the mold of baked goods to wake up wearing dresses that turn you longer than the shadows of light poles do  arch over  a spider sits right above us up here  legs drawn over the edge of its bed you look as if a dream had gently elongated  you through the night to the sea at the end of my wake will we come down from up here the sun gets so close stacked glued a thickness of stone  fascia of data needs a pin prick a rubber tube poked through  mouth round one end breathing the other a flower shaped as a funnel spirals outward and away from itself put the hole in your head against it to reveal what could not be regarded before

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ writing is the act of picking up threads as you move through life and putting them in various pockets, hiking along, stopping to admire and drink water, they get all knotted together and maybe you forget and they stay in a bag you rarely use or go through the wash then you find them again, even more matted, almost to an indecipherable whole  and sometimes you sit down in the middle of something entirely unrelated and thus entirely related in reality and start pulling apart the threads or you do it in passing, stopping by the table where they sit to finger at them a bit and set it down and then some day, that day or many down the line, the threads are all disentangled and in the process of putting them together and pulling them apart you have found out so much of the nature of their relationship and you can now see how they can be braided or knotted or woven together in the in...

breath is the way  to grab, hold, see, bend, move : time

some will dwell and some will not little brown stones that turn out cream chocolate those that seep coffee will be some of the first extinct tastes  across under over  slide swallow down to the stomach to dis-solve in churn acid memory memory acid how strange the sack of liquid burn at our center like tropical poison frogs evolved over years we name but cannot really count a toxic leak in the pocket of their cheek i have often wondered what it must be  to live with the known sensation of acid  some will get stuck in time tar  flesh still dinosaur  some will use digestive enzymes to break down to atoms sweat out cry out shit out shout out  is the output of energy required for nature to roll itself as a boulder, to uproot itself as a tree, pull a tower by the hair,  grab a tyrannosaurus at the ankle and bring it topside down > or < or =  the energy required to live a life of pleasure  > or < or =  the energy required to li...

a child came in looking for the witches  by roald dahl. it was checked out.  that story is so much about bodies. costuming and concealing bodies. smelling bodies. shrinking bodies, changing their entire form to be that of another species. about the boy who can be lured into anything with sumptuous treats and his body that is implied to be a result and reflection of such pleasure of taste. about the witches who have no toes and no hair, who wear the dead objects we carry on and cover over parts of our bodies, to protect them from the elements or from sneers, shock, othering by others.  gloves and wigs and boots and lipstick and make-up and coats and stockings and hats and glasses.  the witches, not living in a world completely of by or for witches, benefit from blending in by wearing wigs over bald scalps and masks over ancient warty faces and gloves over claws and pointy heels on clubbed feet. but they have a true form. the audible relief and energetic release that s...

at the salvation army today, the clean one with ten foot rows butted up three long and seven or eight deep, the one with lots of crisp new and gently used clothing organized by someone else's logic but still legible and navigable in an intuitive way, i almost had a panic attack. thrift store shopping was once a regular way to pass time and a reason to be out in the world, in my life. but now every time i enter my hope and enthusiasm and nostalgia is zapped, i feel like there is lead in my eyes and hands, i kind of paw at a few items while my heart sinks into some tar pit of exhausted dread. it kind of makes me tired. the feeling is the weight of the place and the energy of the clothing and the tedium of sifting and the warp your brain has to do to reimagine value in so many objects. but all those experiences are also what makes finding an object you connect to so joyful and gratifying.  the panic came somewhere while i holding the sleeve of a leather coat, or maybe it was the tan h...

 there has been a surprising lack of thought i have felt necessary to share the last few days but even with myself? this has gotten to conscious of potential observation. love is a funny thing. that is what they say right? i fall in love in moments. with others and with myself. it seems love is imperfect in that it is not accessible, predictable, applicable to all the right moments. and it comes out of nowhere and when you need it to show it, it may be elsewhere and when you want to deny it and hide it, there, here, it is in and on your face. perhaps nearly everything about love is cliché. perhaps that is because i am from a conditioning - cultural, spiritual, familial? - that fears acknowledging love. that does not want to get stuck and entombed in the sap. glued to yourself or another or a place. that love opposes freedom. because freedom is to be individual and aligned only to ideology, to a way of being, and love apparently is no way to be, it is a force, a phenomenon, to which...

there are so many systems, objects, events, focuses of attention, celebrations, discourses, basic necessities that if followed completely through, to their sourcing from the earth - which, please let us not forget what has already been total eclipsed blood moon-ed forgotten, that is earth is where all, literally even that rock of the moon, all but the sun - stored inside all on the earth - and asteroids, comes from and there the argument is that space is the place from whence all, even the earth, came - has pain and suffering and denial and greed and illusion and delusion and power and disempowerment and captivity and manipulation and exploitation.  the human project of civilization by the year of 2023 is a well, and the well is poisoned. water does not differentiate between itself. when something is added to some of it, it is added to all of it.  so there are things i need to stay alive. to be happy. to be comfortable. and i can think of growing my own vegetables and herbs, t...

to be able to cry at work. to do what you came there to do with tears on your cheeks. to look at the one who comes to your work but has a work of there own, somewhere else, where you might go when you are not at yours and to say "there is a strange wall of water between us, i can see it. can you? can you hear me through it? what do you feel, think, know of it? is there one on your side?" how am i supposed to keep believing in anything. are those who can see just supposed to wait? until it appears literal for everyone else? because no one will listen before then. and at least then you can say well i have thought about this, considered it from all angles with the time i had waiting, imagined it imbedded and ripping through realities surface rather than staying tidy, contained on a screen. so now that is has arrived, i have some ideas. maybe for the seers and the knowers and the feelers all you can do with your time is learn, repeat muscle movements and pull threads of thought b...

o r a n g e s b l o o d  s e e p  c r y  u p  i  . 

there is an impulse to when speaking about people who behave abhorrently, behave in ways that are antithetical, oppositional, to what one orients themselves towards as good or moral, there is an inclination, a perceived authoritative obligation to address their choices with a kind of vitriol. to assert oneself as against and to do so with the most drinkable, edible, vigor and rejection as possible. so that the collective may know who you are in reaction to how another  appears.  when someone does something distasteful, improper, taboo in relation to socially set and preserved standards, the reacting conversation and gossip easily becomes one that strips the subject of their humanity. the unspoken agreement of the righteousness of this act reflects a psychological logic of punishment : if you want to  be  outside of the norms of what we have deemed as human we will keep you there. it also reflects the belief that to be human is to be good, virtuous, to be human is to ...

when something exists so close to you it is no longer in your periphery. like the chain of not gold that was my grandmothers that i wear around my neck. it is short and sits tight around the base of my neck thus high on my collarbone. it sits there under my shirts and in my sleep and under the water in the shower. i do not think of its presence every day. in the mirror i hardly observe it as external from my form. this happens with tattoos, too (though they are by their very nature imbedded, become, your form.) this is true in astrology. with conjunctions. and with venus most of all, i believe. when it is close to the self. in astrology selfhood is found in the luminaries: the sun and its washed-muted-blue-softened reflector, the moon. the glyph of venus is a mirror. this is an amused and sometimes actually funny nod to a self-aware vanity, which is actually itself really just self-awareness so it is to be aware of ones own awareness of oneself, which venusian motivations and qualities...

i am a very talented statue. have you ever had someone trace the outline of you, with an invisible thickness between their bone knuckled pointer finger and the bridge of your upturned nose? it is a ridge down the center with two mounds of round on either side. and you are embarrassed about it. people with long bridges and flat bases are not as critical. you wear your criticality. sitting there i am always trying to look out the window in the beginning, it is a basement with large windows inset in deep sockets right at the hairline of the wall and the ceiling. they are white wooden frames and six panes across, three panes down - though it looks like two sets of three by three panes were pushed together, that the full six was not actually constructed as such - the panes are probably eight inches wide and twelve tall. though i think i am not good at guessing measurements i actually often come pretty close, unlike with people's ages. but people show their ages differently. maybe i am u...

  water can be dried by the fire, evaporated by the air, absorbed by the earth and begun by none.