what's this st-st-st-stuttering? i know you revealed an acute consonant combination, but you didn't have to ensure it doesn't exist - i am familiar with the way humanity doesn't need theological crutches, and wants to go at it alone, but sometimes an individual example of a human begs the question of God - look at than Blue Indian language, it has plenty of hatches that are nothing but dead-end corridors (h t'chess) - ghee - for example, the h is inserted for aesthetic reasons, not phonetic reasons - alpha bravo, alpha bravo, come in alpha bravo! romeo, over! and the theory of stuttering goes along the way: consonants primarily, definite sounds, like the articles - they hide him in the most obvious places, for aesthetic purposes he's there, but when spoke of, completely silenced.

*******...

one - why say tsar and not say gnome?
in England you don't say 'sar like you might
say 'nome - or 'nosis (gnosis) - nose-dive on this -
γνῶσις - again, why would the Greeks add
diacritical marks and the English haven't?
too busy up a monkey's *** crack for all i know -
doggy dodging the debate -
leave dialectics like a derelict house and
soon enough everyone becomes so
opinionated that it's hard to discuss any
opinion, given the defences of the person
ideally suited for politics -
Channel Four daytime t.v.? scarier than
any horror movie - *come dine with me;
but still, while st-st-stutter with the other
form of grapheme ts and not with the grapheme
gn? it's perfectly suited given the
original graphemes æ and œ -
you say agnostic perfectly, but when it comes
to gnosis people cut the g off and never bother
with the rule they apply to ts when a wet drum kit
snare if hit for hot when uttering the word
tsar.

two - the incident of a 91-year old woman in
Berlin, in a gallery, oldie had the chuckles
doing this one -
did graffiti on a £67,000 work of art with a biro,
reading-work-piece,
a 1977 work by Arthur Köpcke of the Fluxus
movement - prompted by the "artist's" instructions:
insert words - granny did goo goo good -
that's how i see Hebrew -
a perfect twin image - Hebrew, apart from the
two Adams (aleph and ayin) is a bit like a crossword,
vowels are only inserted for a Bar Mitzvah of
practising Kabbalah - perfect'oh comparison -
and you begin to wonder, why didn't the Hebrew
have a pronounced E if they had an A?
after all the sacred name has Adam and Eve to
imprison - which is why it'd explain
Islamic niqab - hidden from sight.

apologies for a telegram style of writing -
i have to make dinner, take pictures of flowers,
water the garden, trim my beard, wash myself
and then ******* to see a ballet of Don Quixote -
you get the picture.

Chance Operations are methods of generating poetry independent of the author’s will. A chance operation can be almost anything from throwing darts and rolling dice, to the ancient Chinese divination method, I-Ching, and even sophisticated computer programs. Most poems created by chance operations use some original text as their source, be it the newspaper, an encyclopedia, or a famous work of literature. The purpose of such a practice is to play against the poet’s intentions and ego, while creating unusual syntax and images. The resulting poems allow the reader to take part in producing meaning from the work.

The roots of using chance operations to generate poetry are generally traced to the Dada movement in Western Europe in the early and mid-twentieth-century, involving writers such as André Breton, Louis Aragon, Tristan Tzara, Philippe Soupault, and Paul Éluard. The Dadaists were deeply interested in the subconscious, and they believed that the mind would create associations and meaning from any text, including those generated through random selections. In one section of Tzara’s “Dada Manifesto on Feeble & Bitter Love," he offers the following instructions to make a Dadaist poem, here translated from the original French by Barbara Wright:

“Take a newspaper.
Take some scissors.
Choose from this paper an article the length you want to make your poem.
Cut out the article.
Next carefully cut out each of the words that make up this article and put them all in a bag.
Shake gently.
Next take out each cutting one after the other.
Copy conscientiously in the order in which they left the bag.
The poem will resemble you.
And there you are--an infinitely original author of charming sensibility, even though unappreciated by the ****** herd.”

The use of chance operations in contemporary poetry has been used most famously by the international avant-garde group Fluxus, poet Jackson Mac Low, and the poet and composer John Cage. A good example of a poem that was written using chance operations is Jackson Mac Low’s “Stein 100: A Feather Likeness of the Justice Chair," which also includes Mac Low’s explanation of the methods he used to compose the poem.

I think about the horizon feeling. As a moment of understanding what living is for, and why our momentum is forward. My horizon was peaks of mountains from every point of view, 5 friends, cold winds, orange and pink skies, and expensive gas for a van we made home. Was it the only time I felt this way? Or was it the first, and this is the reason for its presence? What will be new to me in that way? Can it repeat, if I strip it down, make it small, then smaller, if I find its essence? A dusty thing. Small parts to fill the cracks. We are not meant for eternity, but the horizon is of a world of forever. It makes sense why you are so wanted. I can't be against her, as in many ways I know her. But does she feel the horizon? Sand running through the crevices of a palm, you running through red dirt, sticking to leather boots. I used to know the minutes of the sunset, the angle at which it shifts in spring, where it stays steady for summer, and how frost can leave patterns on the soil. Now I know where to find cultural accumulation, density, diversity. I know cement and metro monologues. Where to find the most authentic curry and soft-spoken poetry. How to tell apart Dutch and German. The sound of all things industrial. Pillars and also arches. How to get your phone to work. How to love another language and how to find home in your mother tongue. I've learned how to remind myself of who I am. When to be within chaos and when to be within the city. How to speak without voice, how to hold others. How to love without looking and how to feel without touch. None of us knew we would stay. There was never a plan only an intention. Then the leaves came and went. We saw spring twice and felt the shift of sun on our faces. Home was constructed through curious minds and a distance far enough from the origin to make necessary a new water source. An appreciation for something out of context, random and resourceful. Leaning toward sustainability. The acceptance of flux, the knowledge of family that's not your own.

Maral took a Polaroid of me in my new shirt that Niko helped me pick out. She said 'This shirt is so you, I don't know who you were before this, but this is so you'. I felt it too. It's black velvet with big sleeves and shoulders. I have never felt so new. Like I really am a year older. Age has hit internally. It's an accumulation of all of my past selves and a new chapter has hit. It's full of supporting beams, internal and external structures. Naturally, there must be release, holding on can make things messy. My closet is full of pieces I haven't worn in months, it's sentimental, not something that feels right to give away. All of these pieces have been on my skin when I was the person who got me to where I am now. I love each version of her. So tonight when I arrive back in Barcelona, I will take the ones I love, that I've grown out of, and put them in a box. As a time capsule, ready for when I need to remember a part of myself. Change is the growth that fosters flourishing into one's most authentic self. I am me but I am also refining my desires, thoughts. Facing the self that is of benefit to my family and community. Giving for nothing in return but receiving it anyways.

Like myself the past is within the present form I take I will never feel what ** felt like again. It's Fluxus and can only be similar. The seeds I planted then are the roots that ground me now. It can feel similar but will never be the same horizon feeling.

It was after I found what your mind likes did I realize I like your mouth too. You smell of warmth and felt soft on my fingertips.

But I only want to crave myself for now. Energy as a stable feedback loop, from myself into myself. Wrapping both arms around my ribcage to fall asleep. A new awareness of my desires.

. small items .

made without regret,
yet red cotton to
give away on thursday
and saturday evening,

the first word being welsh.

i remind thee, free art,
do not eat me.

we had a meeting yesterday.

fluxus

sbm.