Sunday, August 29, 2004

Sunday 12:44 pm

Starting the downward slope of the day. Just on the cusp. The lip of the falls. The height of day: hot, humid. Grey cloud-cover to trap in the smoke.

One of Ligeti’s etudes, Automne à Varsovie, is the perfect accompaniment to descending. Neither hand knows what the other is doing so flail in minute spirals cataloging a fluttering down. Lightness concealing a darkened interior of possibility or collapse.


En suspens

Coloana infinitå (simply amazing)


Dr. Octagon


I ask her where she is going. Downstairs, she replies. Yes and to do what, I thought to myself

I was thinking to myself

I was singing to myself


from The Farrago Embers

Splintered door

Fallow days

The world needs to be given updates on its performance

Scarlet towel hanging on the back of a white chair with rounded edges

At the height of my encounter I turned into alpine snow

If something is trying to push you into being then push back―
fight to prevent a clumsy entrance



Blogger spuyten duyvil said...

trying to contact brian lucas please email me at spuyten duyvil publishers

7:22 AM  

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