Wordlings

tell me about a song you really liked that filled you with password farms a small frog middle aged and lonely shining from a woman long ago   tell me of the man who saved your soul when you were going to be an engineer who took you in their dirty airplane arms in a time of cold and reference   there are no indifferent images there at the home of the airplane arms in the toggle of night and day parsimonious engineers

like part of the laundry business expended islandia rodhiharnian material inward laden with the tumulus remains of anybodys antibodies   sunset materials tintwindow   sunset mathematics how to develop your morning material   cool shot I took of my teammate's soul closing platypus connection

like a sugar blue goodnight just as the wireless gas gums up tactical airways, as the birdhouse goes an incarnation of pure information different aliases for different rents sugar blue allosaurus in the curtain of another life the mighty big east

Joyce intended to write a fourth novel after the Wake "a simple book about the sea"   but by then he was blind the Wake had consumed his last particles of eyesight   and he had mountained the highest everest of human literation. and he was tired, like to die. call the Wake Joyce's own.   ...   by then, to write a simple book about the sea would require that Joyce become the sea, and write his autobiography. in rocks of Ireland and Europe well that is what he has been doing since then.   yes, while you were writing easily on paper, he was etching his latest narrative, a very simple book about the sea, in the rocks of the coasts in the shapes of the the bays, the slope of the sea bottoms, the configurations of the surf, the ripples of sand under the late afternoon homegoing dories when light declaims the homegoing boats and even the skirl of a keel on shingle is a syllable of his next lexicon. the cloud mirrors of the bays and the   birds embedded motionless on the blowing wind, and the spray of grit and that wet cold crust of oncoming storm and the long flat clam-pocked flats that shine from the ebb of time. A simple   book about the sea. A simple book that is the sea.   those who engender words like that are incipient gods. and all that things that lie created around you have been devised by such gods. who do not demand obesiance or worship just notice and attention, you'll see. just notice the details of a thing and you'll see, you'll make contact with the forgotten writers of the ancient eons. appreciate them, for they are your ancestors, never-ceasing, and one day you'll be among them.

from a sky that was dark and the waters were full of yesterday the ice looks sweet til it slips moscow january charlestown mausoleum so firmly held the sausage of the moon in a darwinian bungalow between her malthusian legs love in a January mausoleum quick before the lightning breaks! sanity graduation pass the lightning ballots chilltown mausoleum where the fluid drips, drips, drips

vacillating privately on athletic skies weather-battered skies to ink the divorce or the dark stomach machinery sophie the prize and the race she lived for disappear into the machinery of dark stomach skies

some cholesterol ghoul in a whole dank nest of movies several years off the ledge and fudge censorship   the sun in my targets the sun in my tears that first terrible glimpse of the black hole's maw that is a force in the mind and now it's in there, it will pull all material to it and down into oblivion   these are objects of mind, friends which is where they only exist   reality in a dream is just as real as this is, and yet, just as real as this is. objects of attention, together seamlessly. one's attention moves from thing to thing and they's no jump, no seam, no splice.   it's all perfectly continuous.

the dead on the dwindling line even after you die the most important part of you does not the only difference between a loser and a closer is the letter "c" his last industrial line of defense chocolate fonz powder nimby maneuvers   aliens snatch frozen bodies off everest for reasons they alone know north of our thromosaurs the sky marches on down off the tibetan mind down off the pilgrim man hell's unbelievable brainpan   jesus, as narcoleptic logic systems of beauty to succor the narcoleptic mind the bullet of a damp soul tumbling off a narcoleptic laugh dean death on english street saps the pilgrim mind   this is the wind that blows us mallward money's always a little out of focus wandering the repetitive array would be very bird afraid money's always a little out of tune some men are money walking the pearl of their lost souls harvested by the everest aliens

you are the crumbling nebula you are the dead nebula standing   afraid to abandon the disintegrating ship for the infinite old ocean   boy you are the rumbling nebula every atom minted in an ancient sun every atom conceived in the womb of a dead sun   aerosol in a dead sun miniature abrasion of a star in a Minneola dead sun   we are actually Ex Nihilo but our thoughts connected us with stars our thoughts, which configure our sciences, lead us back to the stars in this way science, as do all our arts, points the way to ascension   pearl cleanmanships points the way to accretion as we rejoin the nebula at last

the same cast of lost souls walks the sidewalks day by day   the sound of a bullet dawning dawn roar records   is written down in the other place in the soul of the dawning era  

wandering spray the moon's wet clothing the workers' light phenomenon you don't think the moon makes lava move? this is why the wandering poles wander his dusty shoes on the powdered crust of the language moon the vortexes of the ballistic coast back out these spanish counts in precincts of unanticipated monsters data ebbs and flows the internet tides, pulled by a moon all of data, collected of the world's ignorance

we lied to the rainbow and to vic mizzy   roger to his sensitive death a guitar makes a poor parachute   take a moon from the left hand pile and go join the others   we'll be along in a moment    

the deeper life goes, and homeless men under the moon are searching for the doorway searching for doorways   and we who rattle our chains are only starving ourselves for the visions it contains   green needle money vaccination from ennui and the seven seemly sins the rattle and flash boys   but we are graduates of the silver airplane we're graduates of shadow college and know the margins of life and earth   the deathless graduates come from gloom and go out to gloom statistical minds suffering for the unbelievers   we found an ocean deep within where submarines probe blind the lightless depths and the sea segues into space   and we who rattle our chains are only starving ourselves for the visions it contains

skullskates skinstake is trips rainbow dna soft lodely fiction is its own thumb with a bullet for a heart father brown resin sugar number six baron brown and the rainbow man like a brilliant arctic battle

the world's all shook and fire and we just want to retire to our hentai gardens   in league with the horse acrobatic laundromats took off a guy's head   moonsprain species that species you'll always forgive censor of the intellect   mansprain species and homely nonetheless the helicopter jerked  

the face that launched a thousand ships the ships that launched the face on mars   starla and the millionjets launched a thousand barriers into the rage   the barrier of the dancing dollars the barrier of one million vicistors the barrier of I wont make trouble a conga line of hot dog suits   listen oyster, dancing around on the bacteria you prisoners of the bacteria boat creation is the name of rage   be the fact that launched a thousand ships and the ships as well. that face on mars is yours.