Postmodern return

No grammar of us no more me in theorizable sight only a site for more and absent all my work is all my life he you we are how and so nothing of them to persist or retain only remain if and only if these hands shortening to time doored fraying not ordinary but wigged or protrusion off ending nor traceable ginger giver girl live alone a beautiful place to take your eyes off me put my response in the inbox reuse dignifying thought and we. Though you are now, algal and loping as always. If for, then three.

It is true we undo each other

Our rooms decorate us

It is true

You brought with you an aspiration for the silver screen
Stowed delicately in your silver purse
Stringed

And loping
You travel a direction
Fated to be multiple

A Californian for a girl slung a carefree arm through mine on one of the first warm spring days. A true warmth, the kind that makes you want to kayak. At that point I had no superstitions about writing about the past, and a lack of interest in prophetic lines. Immediacy, orgasm, drugs, that life precedes my lateness. The Californian (she) didn’t pretend or flinch. She drank a canned beverage as she made offers. I conceded to her strange ways in all modes except sexual. A romance bloomed between us through winters and springs. I wonder if my two Californian friendships benefit from the coastal time difference. The 2 times. Now, she maps her route with regard to water and wisdom. I strive to become a better listener. Less anxious, I think. We contact each other from time to time. 

Note

When you're making an improvisational performance, it's the state of mind that you choreograph. Your materials become your thoughts and emotions and memories. Your body and its sensitivity are tools that help shape material. A measure of goodness becomes a measure of authenticity, honesty, patience, proximity to or distance from your self. The work becomes a self-knowledge and development of tools to bring you to an improvisational state.

The simplicity of chaos blew through my window last Sunday

Now I'm moving slowly out of necessity. I have rediscovered an indefatigable fascination with time. Faith in the visibility of moments surrounds me. I am looking at darkness as merely an expression of that particular moment. From this place pure confidence and self-respect arise.