Oct 20, 2009

the land stands still, the water keeps rising

both moons, those milky eyes
dissolve into soft focus

Nina is dreaming. her hair a tangle of mischief
blue veins pulsing starfish highlit thighs hand painted
skin

bubble b, where did you wander off to

far away giggle
broken static

just /// beach

are you wearing the repellent

i found a cove full of ***///*

get back to the villa before dark, i'm picking you up in a few hours

foamy shadow - flagged

Nina!



ok // tryin to send [image]


~<~<~<~====~<~<~<~^^~>~>~>~====~>~>~>~

Oct 14, 2009

Nina starts crying at the same time the rain begins to फाल - 10/01/09 11:09:51

not so much out of sadness as from frustration.

she closes the window and gets out the ice.
take that, eyelid 1 and eyelid 2!

frozen swirls of radon on frozen planets of ice?

'forever afternoon (tuesday?)'

the fairy land of love .. i know u are smiling .. i always make u smile with my love

It's smoke only when no
longer visible, everything around
it, shiny, blue, and naked, odd parts I notice and
claim.

lick-spittle of thought, brainwell, shadows of my soul .. imagine it is a blue world's other weather .. rubbed on your knot .. my finger-flower close the blinds, concentrate, u know the vanity of the carnal world. but that is not what i was talking about..

well.. i am talking about the enormous stillness of dream-taste.
a fatal autumnal afternoon.
why fatal?
just a deeper magic. .

the
two-lane highway, recognition?

before the re-pass.

lol


..


your hair smells good.

your lips are soft.

i'll stay.

who will save us now?

Oct 12, 2009

with a hint of plum in her hair

i love strange places

strange places or being a stranger?

ha..

they were staying in an abandoned villa overlooking the ice cold ocean. there were other small villas in the area but this was the only one with electricity, hot water and a working jacuzzi bathtub. the place was overflowing, with dark, cheap mediterranean furniture spotted in places with a strange florescent mold (?). Nina had discovered what seemed like, hundreds of bottles of wine, underneath the ornate bar. each small, round bottle they pulled out, had the same handwritten label:

Robertson Winery
natural sweet red
South Africa

Nina was already opening a bottle, using her small, personal, vine engraved corkscrew.

i hope the corks aren't all crumbly, who knows how old these bottles are..

pop!
Nina laughs, grabs a small plastic cup and says
this one is fine. i'm taking it with me into the bath. why don't you check out the kitchenette. so-so said that he left some decent freeze-dried meals in the pantry. or.. you should see if you can get that old vhs player to work, he left his 1960's classic tv shows, collection. her voice trailing away as she turns the corner to walk down the hall towards the bathroom.

he decides to go out on the terrace to get some fresh air before tackling the ancient vhs situation. the place had a weird odor. not really unpleasant but the fact that it was, unidentifiable, bothered him. Nina said it was just the regular, musty-dusty closed-up-house smell, and suggested opening all the windows but the windows were screen less, and he wasn't sure what kind of insects were out there, so they agreed to leave the windows closed for the time being, especially at night. the view from the terrace was spectacular, 2 moons, each one surrounded by a bright violet glow, which was never visible from the city. the seagulls looked like regular seagulls only much larger and they seemed to move much slower, than he remembered from his childhood. he wished he had asked so-so for a map of the island, but it was too late now. he suddenly felt uneasy and went back inside, locking the glass door behind him.
he finds Nina still in the bathtub, her hair pinned up, jet flows turned way down, and a washcloth over both eyes. bubbles in circles bumping up against her skin like white bursting flames.
are your eyes hurting again?
emmm.. especially the left one. feels like it is turning into a migraine.
relax, i'll go look for some pills, knowing so-so the way i do, i know he left something good behind

Nina sighs to herself. she was sick of all the poison. sick of the running & hiding..

~~

back in the kitchenette, he finds a blank envelope, and starts to write:

my heart is only a muscle
drained and flattened or
fluted and electric
depending on the umbilicus of your climate,
the smashing of your void.
your heart is a forest, where
if i'm not careful
mine may disappear


~~~~




as they slept
the ocean grew colder &
thousands of stars
moved closer together

Nina dreamed dreams she would never remember
they flowed into each other
becoming one




mouth

moose-mink monogram

monogrammed

Marcy Playground



# #


i really like that line:
eating a face

who wrote that?

i don't recall

recall?

lol, i always use, 'remember' .. so ..

ah.. so .. so, you liked that song?

not really. just the songs it reminded me of

alright.. open another bottle.

i can't i am having the strangest dream.

i'll do it

k

where did you leave your insane goblet?

i don't remember

Nina.. did you go out on the terrace, while i was in the shower?


no.





heh.. you know... i came here with you so that you are safe.. please don't lie.

there weren't any insects! i wasn't bit! i just wanted to see the sea turtles. so-so said they use this beach! they have developed a special protection!
i just wanted to see!!

alright. it's ok. calm down.


Oct 8, 2009

playing. atomic/blondie


no helmet sensation today
only a neon smell

Nina gets out the old keyboard
unnecessary but her fingers want
the comfort of the plastic keys

he had cushioned her & traumatized her hips
had insisted that transition was still possible

outside, a large tracker unit rolls by
its blinking lights turning the raindrops
pinkish-white
silent deaths
his lips

she felt cold, & almost wished she was huddled in a cafe full of people warm with drink



~~~


Over our life - then shalt thou, smiling, touch the keys, And draw me softly with thee into Paradise. --- ee cummings


~~~

whatcha doin?

watching 'Willard' on the idiot box

claustrophobic fur smothering victorian fear

LoNeLiNeSs

write something

crumbling

prism of rain *** whisperling,

stop. the world is hateful and you know it. i am sick of it.

no you aren't. remember that time we ended up in the other space because the TR malfunctioned. how we sat on the naked beach watching the strange bird like creatures swoop down into that odd shivery silver water to catch whatever it is they were eating. how we laughed at the odd jubilant trilling sounds they made while flying back up into the sky. how you sat perfectly still as my mouth found your neck.. the cave we slept in.. the things we wrote on the walls..

~~~









Oct 7, 2009

~~~

subtle as a log.

Nina reads the words on the screen. Uh huh, you should definitely stick to what you know. No doubt about that, Mr. Writer. King of the Samples.
She smiles.
It is dark outside but is it night?

_all circuits_ are busy now_ [error 815-71]


she felt like sliding across the carpet and touching the screen just to hear those little statical crackles. but she didn't have carpet.

she resumes reading.. yadayada..

'that unfortunately mistake smugness
for being refined and mistake lack of sympathy for clear
sightedness.'


oooo.. now, that is creamy.

wall sprites move quietly near the walls, and wait.

Nina wakes up from one of the best dreams she has ever had. The entire theme was of dinning room tables. She couldn't decide between the oval shaped blond wood that looked like old school desks of different heights pushed together or the round, dark cherry wood with all the tiny, secret drawers. Both easily seated 12. &

for the cat named, Big Bridge:

who takes me there, hands me a glass of mead?
a lock opens, dragged out organism,
red grass burnt feet. all is that didn't
to be of some old neither, was moved to Am
in My.

Top: where he's @ and what his stillness means:

beep beep .. across the screen:
slow down you are going a little crazy there and forgetting your own rule, barbarous..

'The Beautiful Lady is cardboard, the sky--where the happy lovers fly away--is tissue paper. Liquid flows from the wound of the poor abandoned lover, and the "mystics" who jabber their "theories" in chorus remain open-mouthed, become quite flat and disappear, while the author, pestered from right and left, doesn't know what to dream up to explain to the audience what has just happened.'
http://www.sovlit.com/bios/blok.html

i thought the topic was drowning?

i am struggling between fantasy & the basic,
between breaths, of nerves.


my stomach is a lost exit, how about some spaghetti and texas toast?

i realize that what i write is for the most part inaccessible and interesting to maybe one reader at the most.

highlighting:

tears, & voids.