Thursday, April 14, 2005

aristotle who knew everything

Aristotle systole who knew everything carried a chastity belt a transmission device to unhand her worrisome and others. Aristotle the Athenian had a head, a shaved head, was bringing the brink back from the dead. The hogshead of words was her song. Mona met Aristotle waning on the dudgeon of Alexander's weight, Peter's pall, and other enlightenment vices, her voice of vice for verse was their clatter wrong and her Franny was the silver suds feet of her murmur.





When her body had been young she was his but his head was turned and turned off and elsewhere. He saw her folded arms over a street traffic river one afternoon in the dusting day of city desert. Like any lover he couped-de-grace spending his feet on her song, her breast a sigh felt heave on his rest desire to be wake with her over the song down tumult waves of her remove over and over over over it's rapid demise the torrent of phrase was her body, no explain the eyes of , and of and before there was something , she asked why are things rather nothings on the Greek island that day, Lesbos sauntered the sandaled sand, glittering ocean of spray in her eyes, knowing the wrapped fold the field of her enlightenment could only be the pain of his song.





You smoke too much , a human computer of reading and
He yes, but your body is too far,
conversation is clarity I need lips to hold and hook to mine over the wents and tatters, the stage of night.





And someone was stealing her poetry, from the blogs, where fictions fancied food ...




other long days



over the desert




but when the sun became the warehouse of docks and sighs she saw, recognized his body over the walking page becoming him and his lover





always over many lives and laves

Friday, April 01, 2005

140 plateau iNsiDe aN inSIDe

the authorial authoress fiction was not celerity of memory to recall when she had .



scriPted this

_____________




When Mona and Jill first got together they were students studying but now they were men, and men were women most of the time, when the let the waving boots of their skirts show, or when lovely waved curled faces spoke back to the bollard which held them to the ground of identity identity kit, gender, social insurance number, medicare card, grave yard number, high school graduating book, photos from previous lives and love, strange hotels from the dream, hot water bottle beteen the Scud missle that Abdul sent, hoping for the maritime peopke of the Sea to win a war that could not be fougt, not be won. And one and one was two when you won the fingers and figures right that made you count right as lisping number was her name and game, and O my love you are there O thou, when Mona Jill first saw her name in stars between the double disjunction of Christ and Jesus Oedipus and Jesus Christ Deleuze sailing out the window with Spinoza there to greet him as he shot down a bolt out of spaxce into space becoming a crufix flying falling, a bolt a crucifix shaped by Spinoza shaped figuriine that waS Spinoza the old philosopher entering the grave with his name on the grave, shooting from out of the sky, a firing, a velocity, a hit, hit upon the ground cracking, sunderring open : yes, Jesus Crrrhist Spinoza Deleuze with Guattari schizz-flows included, and when she saw that she knew her future lay in the future of men, and she said well I wont drink anymore, but answer your posthumously posed questions Claire, as I am your nomad bastard fathering - a ebb becomed man then changed sex of soft skin, asking her for a light, and she thinking it was a come on, if only she was, if only it was, of only it was Claire and the others. O My Parnet!! How many eyars ago it was seeing your book with him in 1977 or 79 when I was still with the big G, you can't get away from the Big G!




______________________But sure she knew Sire of wordsLips it was good good . good. was lips of good.