Assaulting and liquidating with the language, into a freeness that merges into its own usage of forms
The more I stretch it, pull at and blend, the more my curiosity gives into it.
Freedoms over form. Overfreedoms.
Admittedly, I become besotted by overfreedoms of usage.
I love them.
Not just free — beyond free, assaulting and liquidating with the language, into a freeness that merges into its own usage of form. Oh and shape, The shape of meaning. The shape of its turns well, extra especially.
Yes yes to a stickness it may be. I used to call stickiness of words and the gutteral qualities, a beloved sickness. Still do at times…
The more I stretch it, pull at and blend, the more my curiosity gives into it.
Overfreedoms. The more of it I take in — Well, the more it becomes planetary. Becomes part of an apparent endlessness, encircling airy and long-headed, to a vibrance, that keeps track of itself, that annotates, expands, transforms, constructs.
Sadly, often badly, even miserably, become enthralled to the “likes” of its reality. Who and that\-what created its somethingness, bargy argy over making any sense of its . Is it physical ?
Yes and no.
Its a thing that lives at distances. Goes after “the bone.” Its oddly horribly beautifully physical. Permeates, quakes like a storm. Why consider a part of the love monster. Who demands attention. And wants cover. Or something.
If its a singularity your fucked. Even if try to let go of its power hover me — I cant ! So what the hell ! Dont ! The Dead in their esteamed and thatched, tell me, hoe for it, yes. The religious in me kneel even. Fee fi fo.
Instead, designate: its a preciosity, a gift of abundance says the maya angel lou factor y bell et bien — born that way.
Attingent and a tangent to its mecca with the impossible, a love that is monstrous, that is bigger than life.
Though, at its resistance to and fro and from existence — belies a gulping breadth of death. A shame a horror a sacrifice. Around and around a near religious perversion to the "likes" of its infinity.
Infinity only exists as a symbol, is only a possibility never a “reality." A way to describe continuity, edging up to cuts, glowing expansions.
And death can assume proportions of a cavalry — horses on the march — Arrows and quivers.
Also dissolution, a killer delicious gluttony of faith.
Me and my reprehensibles, again and again, devoured by awe, the bloody and the weightless.
I want some of that power hover me too:) Gorgeous work.