The Planet of the Texturians opens the lines of communication. They worship the Word and the Line, but few can find their way to their intricate interpretations of perception and constructed realities.
Pages & Maps: Archival Reports
Soft Phonemes flash by-
making hard Morphemes tremble,
a gentle rain falls –
thoughts pool up clear reflections,
ripples expand directions.
A Cartography of Thoughts from other spheres can be used to find a type of meaning in uncertainty. There are shorelines that touch Memory; this is where Time translates Experience into foreign tongues. Hyper-Temporal drift creates parallel identities. Which One is the I ?
A DADAIST POEM – DIRECT COMMUNICATION
Are smiles damaged – was transfusion ?
And then,….. before stool house,
lightning hounds cry.
Sleeps too, my doctor frozen,
they think wool stones with known woods,
A Jacobian opinion –
farmhouse horse, nose village,
tool twine tools –
ashes sorts One Sleep –
evening,…. eyes broken,
modify, respectable I am;
A Transformation Theatre……
Between,….. often these wings,
then get sand off;
Go two up, Fate Green –
some soften his years,
as a starry vegetable woods.
{ Sadly this intercept was beyond their orbit, now arises the uncertainty of simile vectors on the waves of a sudden discourse. Perhaps the tachyon ships will arrive at a point of singularity,… if their metaphor propulsion engines are intact.}
In the garage don’t stand,
Only Silence before Behaviour Lakes.
Snow miles out-numbered stiff vagabond;
Go knee woods of bells;
Calls shaken torn bands perfectly –
it watched it in a thesis of her darkest skin.
Sins are stopping by the scales;
Assume full-soul-song;
Toe just is so.
