#vss365 #monotonous ...and it hasn't even begun to settle in where I'm sure mountains were lined along the shore: the monotony of calling every wave a battle, every grain of sand a world waiting to be counted and thrown to the swell, crashing universes pushed aside one sunken footprint after another

#vss365 #matters How much matter could be placed on the head of a pin in the pockets of the angels there enjoying the way strands weave this time into a jumper, a scalf, a rug of floating seaweed, anything not to know what stitch will come next, which way the matter will turn, and will be

#vss365 #health <all things that follow a cough> was it the singer first, or the guitar, or the drums on the recording a reminder that anything can be sound to a microphone a gentle bump, air between points of contact with the amplifier or another cough more air, more pollen, more smoke music

#vss365 #reflection I found the sun today, where the horizon should be a hill or some ocean, burning clouds to hang a world not ready to land. Black spots through those unreal colours to points without stars, drops of rain on glass, dancing around the unseen, where the sun should be, a plane

#vss365 #achievable It is hard to think of anything that isn't fire. Minds and mouths burning the endless time taken to get all of this here, now The breath of beautiful machinery, the weight of the sun after mid day how anything can be squashed momentarily into a star: brief & bright & burning

#vss365 #transport I dont know where the busses go anymore now the construction has begun over. Everything looks unfamiliar except tiredness and dust on the machines and people in machines, tearing up the old intetchange, and an old woman looking, like me, on for any sign of what will come next

#vss365 How hot does it have to be for the far dancing things, dying in the faintest breeze, like they're trying to stop the next sun and the next from rising, so a moment of mercury fills the glassy night, and the #arid words of the things i could be as clear as stars shining from a screen past me

#vss365 #blur sliding on to a highspeed train and a mountain, a thumb covering so much of the world it is hard to tell if anything happens if there is still an opening cut for the train to move through or if it crumples into the unseen part of the screen, where i rest after flicking away more & more

#vss365 like two days ago a truck shook windows towards addresses stuck on whatever is in the back and what I'd written on a pad I've carried for long enough to forget where abything on it could have come from except i guess me and a nameless world that i try to fill with a #sonorous truck

#vss365 #perhaps it is not on the other side of the window, and there is a world just as it is: posed, as I find a few words amidst "coming soon" and tomorrow's hammers, dust, and noise, the holes in buildings that whoever that man is sits in front of in the sun, dressed like he is already there

I wish t building behind didn't look so easily crashed in2 t easiest part of t bay 2 anchor a ship scrubbed over t seas 2 whatever this land once was, when in a few thin black bushstrokes in a building even further a painting hangs unsure how 2 show light almost everywhere but a few unsure people

#vss365 #extrusion As if the car ahead pulls the leaves with it, a world dumped anywhere it stops, the brittle leaves falling as the engine settles silent and a breath pulls us behind out the open doors to stand on earth that could be anywhere if always for a moment of peace

#vss365 #seethe The city as once seething beast settles in to whatever expressions could be found and sent home by the new seasons tourists. It finds so many times to be grateful so many wishes sent away on the backs of pictures written you here, once alive only by the sound of war

#vss365 #bionic Like you have to open a chest to find how it works the thing that turns the world to machine - bone to steel smoking myth of a horizon obscured by a breath beating shores to the erosion of wars and the promise of the openness of death in an otherwise fertile field of machined words

#vss365 #pixie And it flew in on the dust of what used to be my mother the magic of the world fed to me by spoonfulls by herself, the milk & perfume of everything i couldn't understand yet flown dust by what i hoped was more than just a flicker of caught passing car light in the quiet city

#vss365 #elm On the way home this time of year I walk into the sun & find a man & fire dim leaves flickering through the light, the air is filled with cars, & I ask "can you repeat that?" to a fired engine, flit birds & his lost words, & the light bringing us all together to a moment held still

#vss365 #enigma I pick this thing up like there'll be a hole in the table where it lay and what could be holding it up now that it's in my hands as if a table isn't used to holding everything easily, was built before to expect words, stop them from rolling away each time a hole opens in the world

#vss365 #liminal Like you could chase sunset any other way but up & away from the evening streets in an elevator stopping at occasional floors to see what people are doing when they realise the sun is going away, how they hold paper & shield screens with their hands, as you fly away from the earth

#vss365 #scrape like a word pulled backwards a hand looking for the start of a time when it all makes sense these disparate sounds taken from their indifference by a person on stage calling themselves dj, scraping through history each carfully selected record full of carefully selected recordings

#vss365 #stop What gave it away that time has passed these words scrolling by like credits waiting to be named for "this beautiful afternoon, and the gentle winter." Or any name picked from the noise of a crowd clear as your own called by your mother, or you calling out as any mother

#vss365 #sunbeam Just one like a blessing chasing words around bonfires and rare nights a sign to go home, someone has already been this way and given it a name and another like closed eyes anywhere warm and dark the electricity of memory as a tram chashes into the edge of a dream

#vss365 #defense There is a little too much light today, the floors are a little too clean, there is too much of the world shining under my feet like it would prefer to be marble, separated, safe from the elements, or maybe i just want to feel the wind through my hair when i swing hammer anf chisel

#vss365 #immunity As white as the walls must have looked in the scientista mind giving the sun a little immunity from the blinding summer, the famous melting of streets to afternoon to burning roads into the night the stars - grains of white, pigments pricked through a tar viel

#vss365 #soporific <a shopping centre like no better place> & a conversation i want nothing to do with [dream here] could just be 2 people talking to 2 more people talking while [dream here] I wonder when they stopped playing music [dream here] in these spaces, how loud it is to now [dream here]

#vss365 #scar left by a water trail that was so close to being a stream if the sky hadn't moved on with the day, the black clouds on the earth lost to the night and the dripping myths of tar that claw the way earth is when a seed lands, sheltered from the wind where water might flow again

#vss365 as the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle thrown onto a scene it's needed to complete a hole burning into the table carved like coal from harmless land set upon by machinery asking to be left as #free as anything in the distant landscape that can be covered by a thumb outstretched

Friendly reminder: Royalty is akin to racism.

#vss365 #customer I fill my memory with a little more carpark tar, some women, & the way there is *a way to cut light with people *along from grilled strips of white paint between cars, & people ŵ cars & bags from the super market they carry lightly, & the prams they have to push into traffic first

#vss365 #marketing <waves before they're gone> a sea so still like no fish swim below the surface like the sun has sunk itself completely into the water and the heat is perfect to float belly down like an island in gold a few marine birds flying like they did sailors looking for a place to fish

#vss365 #pressure ...and like a morning i saw you pass with the others, arms rested on the sill of car windows, the news of another part of the world flying past with torsos, heads, detatched from the other limbs detatched from this world framed perfectly, in a rush to get to work, to be done

#vss365 #bounce I #bounce in and out of a bird to peck at the world, feed chipped lands into your eyes chewed mountains, drunk rivers and so much ocean then watch as i fly away like i have done forever before there is nothing left but a spell where this was me and a bird and you and the world

#vss365 ..& i pack the world into simple #luggage close my eyes & it all fits neatly away together so i can rummage around & pluck out what i want: a sunset orange burnt trunk thin leaves on its branches the rest of the evening passing in the shadier parts of a peaceful suburb a peaceful street

#vss365 possums moved in upstairs & immediatally started going on about bills & the #euphoria of a room that's theirs, privately & and how much closer they are now to the heavens & who to contact for emergencies like gas leaks & if they should come down & meet me down here & how to say hello

<war already has enough poets> why can't we die in more interesting ways

#vss365 And maybe like that there is not enough road so the city stops crawling into sunset and i have to stop thinking of what it can possibly be as if it is impossible for a city to be a city and light receeding like it could only contain #passion if, i don't know, it is a me or a child like

<a carpet layer> In heaven, I wouldn't have so much glue left.* I wouldn't have so much cleaning tomorrow, waiting for me and carpet, carpet still needing to be laid in heaven i have no idea what I'd do tomorrow *this wouldn't all be stuck to my fingers like my fingers have nothing better to do

#vss365 How this child holds to mother sunlight mother breath mother warmth mother food, moulded plastic chair, mother pressing earth mother mother hands, mother spit damp cloth, cleaning dirt mother, gentle mother & this autumn a #lullaby by that summer & by that me & now that you

#vss365 It would be the softest way to approach a city: as slowly as it moves air through tunnels, tubes, pumped with exhausted, burnt fuels, on the skin of leaves, burning stoves, vents, paper, cigarettes, coffee, information after more information, #flocculent breaths of people on a cold morning

#vss365 #wier As tradition was the easiest of things, the river was let through town to clear the last of the celebration's muck. Anything left outside catching rubbish like improvised wiers, becoming mâché monuments to crisp packets, advertising fliers, brochures, the occasional important thing

I see sad people everywhere & think maybe it's better to forget all this* Go back before all the worry kill the needless stresses but i havent seen a picture of a person on a battlefield, smiling, who isn't surrounded by piles of corpses & looks like they werent asked to smile; just once more

#vss365 #copse The last of the last suburb of city long behind rolls into a #copse of antennae clawing the sky, holding on to the edge of the world by whatever is in the gentle clouds gathered where today we'd swished past like a breath of endless land does a drying shirt on a line

#vss365 ...and a few people with nothing to do #balustrade the platform lighting themselves by phone against the commuting evening lined like silhouettes stolen from a temple forgotten and unfinished leaving Athena to blaze the night above Athens look up at this city towards to sound of trains

Instead of a 5million$ visa rich people should pay oval office journalists to say "fuck off trump" at random. A million a pop. Priceless

#vss365 <how to convince an audience this is not witchcraft> climb as deep into a pond as you can, then wait for it to become perfectly still sink your hands in the gentle #contour between ripples & cup the sun in your palms ask the audience to climb in & see how you do it how you hold onto them

#vss365 <#interim coughing> there is something cobbled on the deeper part of my thirsting tongue a nagging plæce of whatever my lungs reject from the air & whatever world lingers, carried on yet-formed words about down-the-way & a bit where whatever is built as needed by whatever i hide there

I understand why, when I am sweating, why they stopped digging. Clouds if dust don't hold back the heat like whatever is in those clouds already in the sky. There is nowhere to sit and not feel the earth burning, no cool rest except by chasing a shadow no cool earth to crawl in to and nap

#vss365 Banjo Patterson finds a #thoroughbred shin deep in clay mud. He calls for a rope, some help, anyone to lend a hand; a beautiful creature is fatally stuck. He takes photos. Posts them online. Gives the horse subcontext, meaning, tries everything to save the horse, and it drowns in everything

#vss365 ..and the sun sunk into the hills like a #petulant child pulling bed covers over their head ..and the students poured into the school's street as if a marching parade of petulance, taking photos, and waving to anyone maddened by impatience ..8:50 #petulant, pressing the elevator button

#vss365 #reservoir months after the dam sun broke people finally leaned to swim in the last trickles of summer, they glide through the wet-grey pressed metal buildings & dusty currents of city-slowed cars, gold flashes of passing shops and occasionally a beauty, bright, & gone like a gasp for air

#vss365 No one said it was so easy to #displace land rock by rock stuck in the tread of tyres and in the gaps between teeth, while taking a rest at a highway service station to lick at the grit of black coffee & films of dust breathed up and down the country in thin clouds of tail lights & sunset