the missed spaces, the missed places, the missed times, the missed rhymes, the missed persons I could have been or will be, the fear that restricts me, the choices that elate me, the food that prolongs, the life that kills and opens and winds up and scares and tears and screws, inspires and heightens and pitches and rolls and drowns and crowns and takes hold of and molds and breaks and pours into and empties and burns.

and here we steal away together

recorded 19.3.18

I went to the center of the black hole. I searched it out. I know the way. And upon my arrival, I found the center of thought. Before, I wrote of physicality. I knew only the physicality. Now I know the mentality of the center. All possible actions and reactions. All light. And none.


I went to the womb and I found a cage. I sat down. And the cage became a drum and I felt the resounding beats from its interior, from all angles. And I accepted them into my skin. I accepted my mother’s heartbeat, and her pain as I broke free. And knew it would stay inside me, the pain and the pleasure of blood flowing from my center. And I know the other side. The splitting of the atom. The smallest bit of the universe which we searched out and sought to break. And it received our pressure. And it did break. And it gives a poison of decaying matter, in return, its opposite and equal reaction.

recorded 26.3.18

recorded 12.3.18