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Saturday, February 04, 2006


precipice court summons, a boy with wild hair reads me his poetry

suspended in glue, keep the variables at bay, my common place is everyday domestic violence, its what i know and i know what to expect, it keeps the variables at bay otherwise i might have to board a ship or a plane, buy a ticket and risk some fantastic adventure, i would risk death so its better to eke it out in my slow death where the variables are kept at bay

low self esteem dogged

i thought i saw a ghost of a footprint but genica-pussywillow was nowhere to be seen, i wonder the circumference of the horizon, i have a high point rocky outcrop but not even a sign of a vulture, there is a high sun

i am swimming backwards against a current, i carry his indictment as bricks and rocks stuffed into my waterlogged clothes, fluids lapping away at my nostrils and pooling at the back of my skull

what shape would you take by dint of certain pleasure, imagine gingham and an apron a fifties forced americana smile, i am confused by complexitudes, trepanning deems only logical and why would i subject you to this terrible outpouring? and i do mean terrible

wake up katiejane

blind eye
was here one time
vacant and unuse of space
no vacuum in response
to your leaving
just the tension gone on the
in breath
best not to look
as her stretch is overstretchedand
lying limp somewhere
diminishing desert lines
Nasca lines
she had a wing
but i didn't pull on the string
i would not reel her in
and the fish died
at the end of a line
with a hook through her lip and eye


Anonymous kontrary said...

its better to eke it out in my slow death where the variables are kept at bay

I'm not sure why this line puts butterflies in my stomach.

For a moment,, it all cascaded down to me,, a moment of clarity prehaps? Then I lost it again,, I'm left feeling dumbfounded once again.

Comprehension comes in waves today.

Apologies for this little intrusion.


1:17 PM  
Blogger AvaMai said...

I had a dream last night, someone was pulling a spiders nest from the ceiling above my head. you appeared in the doorway and peered in through the dim dawn light. 'just checking'. with that the dawn chorus began, clouded over the trees in the back yard of car parks and sky ways. never saw the clock pass four.

12:11 AM  
Anonymous Anonymous said...

here we're prince's piece (princess peace).

2:16 AM  
Anonymous Fishman said...

They are calling from the bottom of the well. From the bed of the sea. Go to them. They find without seeking and yet all this time the inky hair grows beyond definition...

3:30 PM  
Blogger KatieJane Garside said...

avamai, been working on music's with spiders guarding the door of course, once i asked the spider to fast track me through fear, a fuck load of earbleed in two years, bit of a prolapsed synapse the result so care at all times and don't free dive without the lung capacity i learned

sarah-leigh to cut the strings with love lipseed, butterflies don't fly in the grease, have to keep the wings with dusting or we get stuck, i'm prone to forgetting and flaparound at the bottom of the well

2:05 PM  
Anonymous inkling said...

oh rainbow serpent, they was shining blue torch light for sleep when all the time we were sewing and stitching somewhereupstairs

2:28 PM  
Anonymous dead fishman said...

inkling: I remember, I remembered last night. I was frightened but I would not be now for they knew not what they were doing, and they knew not what we were sewing and stitching

8:45 PM  
Anonymous Kontrary said...

I fear the butterflies wings have been dusted too much.

To think they can fly in this grease.

Drowning not waving indeed.

I thought this was going somewhere,, but I just like to pretend.


10:25 AM  

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