(disrepute) p are the s of h d. it is no wonder some become cynical.

because, it is so easy. with distance we begin to re-assemble our identities.


speaking words i only half understand. i can count days down. i can wake my heart up. she's not so far, its not so hard. close your heart and cross your lies, gives up before she tries. looks down and won't look up, always too much and never enough. things won't end if we make pretend.

don't read these words out loud.

astonishing
astonishing
astonishing
astonishing
astonishing

i have moments of terror where maybe i can't go on forever like i have been. that i will give up the difficult, ridiculous things i love because the struggle is too much.
stairs lead to roof. and sky!
up, because the sky has room for us and more than we can ever make :
(We can always find...waiting for us)There is always a roof for us with a city full of lights mostly sleeping below. One giant shoe pile, a house full of pictures and people, feeling alone in the middle of it.

(Empty streets always seem nicer)

Three of us, on bikes so far from home.


This is traffic and also a jumble of lives tangling themselves together on their way to what they need. (what brought them here, what makes us) If they can find their way then maybe there are things lurking among their world waiting to be found which can connect us together through history and time and what it means to be alive.
Making our own maps of the world...you, radiating out among the crush of people

(dreaming after houseboy...)
ours is a world apart
he sent forth snakes (they arose from his stomach)
we came to help : tears

dark highways take us near and far from home
I pick up countries and scatter them down
Somewhere down south worlds collide
we find ourselves among the cities and roads again
trail of crumbs

i am hungry for your words and dreams again but the waiting is somehow good too. somos brillantes y desastrosos

All sparks and melting everything around us

beneath the streets monsters and tears and dreams and longing and fire and gravity and curiousity and history lurk and vanish

(we stayed up) so late we watched the moon get tired and go to sleep. down under stars coming up, we are home again. this is our time : what we find before the sunrise.



in time we will look different, but i think we will still make the same shapes.


longing for you has so many different shapes and kinds

......................................................
(more words I can't quite let go of)

......................................................

(from me to you)

On being home, and wondering how I got here and was I really there.

Oh it's raining so much today. It makes the evenings so gloomy, but the garden loves it and I think the trees in the forests and all the fields love it too.

(summer's tunbledown into fall)

They cut down the last of the tall trees in the neighborhood. All diseased and rotten on the inside while they were still standing. Home is starting to look as ugly and brutal as all of the rest of the states and cities. Its all coming down, but will anything notable go up in it's place?

Amitav Ghosh tells us "foreign places are all alike in that they are not home...are foreign countries merely not home or all that home is not"

And I think that is true for moments in time, but we also build things every place we go. The people and parts begin to feel familiar and a small sense of home grows within this. Home in the way that it is so good to be back among it after we have been away.

It is bright again, I felt so present for the first time in a long while. Like all my fragments have come back together again.

We have the same moon and the same stars.


(you are so much)
......................................................


http://www.emmawillard.org/academics/curriculum/reading_summer/recommended.php



It feels good to clean up a little.



WE WILL BATTLE TO THE DEATH! OUR SUPER-MEGATON RAGE WILL ERUPT THROUGH MINIATURE PLASTIC FIGURINES!!!!



Oh, I can see all kinds of cleverness you aren't letting on to

I am working on my thousand mile stare, but it is only up to eleven feet so far.

(desert hills) For a period of time I was fascinated by intense and vivid colors. I remember a friend mentioning that she was very taken with pictures which lacked contrast, ones with bland and muted colors. I was not able to relate at the time, but I am starting to appreciate the vast wisdom of that perspective. I still love strong contrast, but the beauty of minute and subtle variation grows on me each day. (variation on many scales)

What disturbs me the most is probably the impermanence of everything high tech. As a medium for knowledge and art, it's lasting power into the future is flimsy at best and likely to erode even further over time. will all of this become nothing at all?



(dreaming) Somehow we ended up talking late into the night. She was eager to put things in an order that would make more sense to her. Cute dark short hair, lively, abundant smiles snuck up even through the layers of frustration. She wanted to know how to find the right person, I was giving advice, encouraging her to seek other people when I really wanted her for my own. She was pretending to be interested in others and the advice being given, when she really only wanted the same. Something prevented us from admitting it, though it wasnt embarrassment, shame, or any kind of friction. Just a playful game of ignoring and dodging the truth. We kissed briefly and quickly pretended that it had not happened, how do you know the past is true if you cannot touch it?


(through the bombgate, at the airport terminal : 1999)
I feel like I don't know her for a moment. It passes.
Note to self : do not fall asleep in airport terminal when meeting people from inbound flights.

I can be stubborn. I know.

::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::


july 11, 2002

Biking to work past the liquor store, there is a single halogen light on in the parking lot. In the cone of light radiating down there are hundreds of moths, small and large, all swarm swirling around reflecting super bright like fireflies. It is a little christmas-light hurricane.

Three a.m. dead quiet down town and there is a girl all alone, all her own. She is dancing slowly in the middle of the empty intersection.


Life Buried in the City


Freedom :
His world is ten feet cubed, this is just barely enough. It is not nearly enough. This is a small room with water stained walls and splinters poking up out of the floor, there are cracks in the molding where ants crawl out. He smashes them sometimes. The other ants panic and swarm the dead ones touch touch and communicating back to the nest, sometimes they bite off little parts and take them away before the carcass dries up becomes uninteresting. He spends most of his day in this room. That's a lie. He spends all of his day, everyday, in that room except an hour on Sundays . His mother wakes him at five in the morning and serves breakfast from a five pound bag of generic cereal with acrid milk which has been watered down to last longer. Usually this mixture turns to soggy syrupy mush in the bowl before he is even halfway done. She makes a limp pale stinky tuna sandwich on mangled white bread and leaves it locked in the room with him for lunch and dinner. When she was seven her twin sister fell out of the third story window and died small below on the sidewalk, she blames her mother for this. Her son will not die a five stories falling to gum and trash encrusted sidewalk broken lump of bones death. There is no window in her sons room, there is a fifty watt light bulb and bolted over closed power outlets. There is no furniture, he has discovered making himself dizzy by smacking his forehead against the wall, the room falls out of focus and slowly returns while an indentation grows slightly deeper two feet above the baseboard. He will not die a free falling or any other freak accident prone natural disaster horror story death. He will one day be discovered. He might have been a genius or an idiot, it is hard to tell. His mind is far off and wandering his own world.

Hope :
She rolls off the bed in the middle of the night sometimes, a muffled thump of tangled blanket lump dropping to the ground and waking up hungry at three am. She holds little secrets in her heart, buried treasures of past, picking her nose and wiping it on Billy Claston's backpack in the coat room when the teachers weren't looking in second grade. She sugars the coffee but never stirs, savoring the grainy sweet sludge left on the bottom during her fifteen minute breaks from fielding toll gate express card recharge calls. Courtesy of commuters ten hours a day of hello sir thank-you ma'ams and then it is distant eyes unfocused staring all the way home. The streaking lights and faces may as well be years with the way history has that tendency to smudge and one thing becomes another until she wakes up fifty-two still working and sick of it all. People snap like that more often than you think, reality takes a collective lunge and teeters there on the brink of shattering collapse. Most of the time something saves it before falling, a little catch me now wont let go and bring it all together again part of the world or daily life. It was touch tones. Who knows who she was calling while she moved her fingers slow over the green glowing rubber nubs, but the shimmering superimposed frequencies sang a stable clear and purity that smoothed out and gave solid to everything around her once again. Brought her back and settled down to drowning in the monotone loop of breakfast work dinner and sleep with the occasional intermission.


We selectively edit our past to give it a unity and cohesion that allows it to mesh with who we are, how we live and think, and what we believe in. We are made of our past but are also constantly remaking it to fit our present, the world makes us and we remake the world. We must come to terms with a reality or choose to go mad, this is what drives many of our choices. The half-mad live in a dream world that frightens us, the ones who failed to reconcile the two tipped over the edge into oblivion.

-

kisses on my shoulder like little stars sparkling.

-



this is not what he meant
this is what we understand
this keeps me going
this keeps me from going cold
the crushing weight makes me strong
couldnt you tell
you knew all along


december 20, 2001

A and I lost our way with words to each other, it would be nice to think we moved above or beyond them, but thats not how it is. We kept sending packages to each other, but eventually stopped writing. Now it is more like little surprises and treats in the mail every now and then, oh look what I found (that I knew would make you smile or cry, that I knew would find you when you needed it most). It is alright too, our words were always much better when we were addressing the world with them instead of each other. It is strange how things change and evolve, they go from what they were to what they are, what they no longer can be and never will become. There are hopes and aspirations built into nearly everything that touches us or which we set in motion, but it is often the things we did not expect (and which come in lieu) that become the most endearing. I like expectations and I love to have them broken. Shake me up, tear me down.




m 12 2002
On our way home, east over the ocean we passed through night at twice the normal speed. Early morning sunrise on the clouds at thirty thousand feet while stars pace us to the left and right, little impotent half-snowflake crystals form on the window. Its cold out there and only slightly chilly in here.


dream a little more for me :
feb 26, 2000 I was living in this huge old renovated mansion with a bunch of other people, young hip people, they must have been advertisers. Wandering down through the stories of the house, there was this part nobody could get too because they had built a doorway to a room over the staircase. Well it wasnt really that hard to get to but it was somehow.

I said that I had heard of a way to get in secretly and we fumbled around until one of them found a secret passage in the fireplace. They looked inside with a flashlight and said they did not want to go in. I said that I would. I got on my back and squirmed in a litte, shined the flashlight in and there was a puppy in the way blocking my view. I passed the puppy out to the other people. Suddenly there were a lot of dogs in the room, getting in the way really. I then looked again, this time with a clear view.

A huge room with a simple metal rung ladder going up one wall, a huge rusted boiler in the center of the vast room. I climbed up the ladder and it lead to this small room with several beds and a window at the end. Sort of attic like, but with a bunch of doors at the entrance. I walked to the beds and then someone was with me, they thought the beds had stuff in them, lumps like. The beds had containers of chocolate milk on them. The person I was with poured the chocolate milk on the blankets and it turned into some kind of monster, it was an angry monster. So we tried to put it out with kool-aid and it got bigger.

The other person ran away, I backed off worried to one of the doors at the entrance of the room. There was a bunch of writing on a piece of paper. The other person picked up a bunch of metal things strung on a band and said "these are tools used by blind people". I said, "the lady that lived here before must have been blind and deaf". I looked once more at the paper, the text was raised which I thought was odd. I opened a door and we went through. There was a person behind us in the room still, I asked them to test whether I could open the door from the outside (like a trap door). I could not open it once closed, they then opened it and came through. We all walked away very scared and nervous.


feb 11, 2002 lets dream some bad science fiction...

He was in the ocean, not swimming on the surface but instead drifting upright deep down in the murky green. Small shafts of light filtered though and reflected off the little specs in the water, he watched his friend and his friend watched him. They were both dressed in business clothes, well ironed suits and ties. Something approached them quickly, it sent out little tendrils in advance. It could not see him but it knew exactly where and who he was, it closed in and enveloped his body. It had a body vaguely resembling a human but it was bloated and white without eyes, this gave it the appearance of an enormous larva. At least the little jelly-like tendrils werent touching him, there was something disgusting about them. Changing from the inside out, it accelerated and sharpened his mind while strengthening his body. Now, for the first time in his life, he felt an overwhelming sense of purpose and drive.

On the beach he had trouble shaking the haunting head from his mind, the bulging jelly white with no eyes that he had been face to face with. With his new capability he built factories and invented fantastic devices, he became powerful and respected within society. There was one incident where ten children had escaped and made their way to the police, they had refused to deviate from their story even once despite repeated interrogation. Authorities found it hard to believe that inside one of these amazing new factories there were thousands of children shackled to devices which decomposed their internal organs and converted them to electricity. Bearing under weight from his clout and because the story was so absurd, it was relatively easy to bury the incident. It would be important to make sure it never happened again, which it almost did. Two hundred-twenty children nearly escaped, they would have if he had not been at the security console by pure chance. The garment laundry for the factory workers was being done that day, the children had managed to convince one of the factory workers to unlock and sneak them into one of the huge laundry baskets. He noticed the alert and had them captured and locked back into the machines, he exacted brutal punishment on the sympathetic factory worker. Given time there would be enough momentum that trivial incidents like these would cease to matter.


Dreaming : january 22, 2002
I was walking on campus with anthony, we were passing by the craft building with its five story array of light and dark blue plastic side panels. We both noticed the fire escape at the same time, it was a huge and slightly rusted maze of metal and wood attached to the side of the building. Anthony wanted to tip it over and send it crashing to the ground, I had to argue with him that it was a bad idea. What if there was a fire and people needed to escape? Instead we started climbing on it, moving up and down, around inside the jungle gym of interconnecting walkways and ladders attached to windows and roofs. It was very old and unstable, it was swaying a little in the wind.

Someone who was walking by below noticed us, they pointed up and started beckoning for others to look too. Soon a large crowd had gathered to stare at us, this was bad since we were trespassing. We monkeyed our way down and started to run away, when we looked back there was a mob of people chasing us. They let out a pack of dogs and the dogs ran so fast that there was no chance of getting away. I was by myself now, one dog had my foot in its mouth, then another dog did as well. They were flanking me on both sides tugging and biting at my foot through my shoe. The crowd caught up and surrounded us, watching as the dogs worked over my foot. Somehow I managed to pull my foot loose and extract it, shoe and all, from the thrashing mouths. The dogs didnt seem to mind, in the absence of my shoe they simply mauled each others faces. Side by side they tore at each other, breaking open their chests and tearing bones and skin in a frenzy until they were both dead and gutted, lying next to each other. I had watched the entire time and now that they were done I just walked away. The crowd dispersed.


january 18, 2002
My landlord had done some bathroom maintenance, cut out a rectangular chunk of the wall and then plastered it back over. You could still see the shape of the cut by the mismatch of the texture and lack of paint, there were a couple of these over doors throughout the house. Then he had started building something in the living room, it was composed of hundreds of gears large and small, brightly colored and interlocking. They lined the walls from one to the next, and we began to turn the crank at the very beginning of them. All of the gears began to turn in a cascade of rotating forwards and back and ratcheting, the the motion spread to the right like a tidal wave waking up the sleeping mechanism. And then on the last wall it seemed to reach a point where there was a disconnect, the motion failed to carry forward despite our continued cranking. And we watched, stopped, and then realized that it was something winding up and as the cumulative motion finally reached the threshold, it spun up and over and a large chain reaction ensued. So we resumed cranking with more patience than before, watched it waiting to see what would happen.

There was more, but I can't tell you. (the part about the landlord by the way, it prophesied the massive plumbing disaster that I discovered after waking up, damn.)

The night before last :
Making a movie with a friend. Animating, drawing characters from different angles, watching them expand from small sketches to ripe individuals on the paper before us. Rotating and erasing, passing back and forth between us, jumping up and down and laying down plots, schemes and scenes.


Dear Mister Gordon Smith, please do not release accusations to the press based on "Secret Information" which you cannot reveal in order to substantiate your "claims". For instance, I have "Secret Information" that you like to stick your finger up your butt and then smell it, yet I refuse to disclose not only the origin of this information but also the actual proof itself even as I continue to make further slanderous remarks. Fun! (you are an 'lected 'ficial, now act grownup like please)

I explained my dream, the important part of it, and you got it all wrong. Damnit if I tell you the first true vision I have had since I was all velcro sneakers and shit, do not be manipulative and superimpose your own scheming on top of it. I was quietly angry, I said no thats not how it is.
I was in a bedroom. There was a large window in this room that looked in on a common room shared by another bedroom, this other bedroom had its own inward looking window as well. In that opposite window was a sad and quiet face framed by a drab girl. She might just be saddest girl alive. Some people grow up horribly poor, so destitute that it marks them for life. They spend the rest of their lives just happy to be alive, that is all that ends up really mattering, that they made it out. We both opened our doors and stepped into the common room. She held out her hand and it was on fire, flames were curling up from the underside and licking orangy white hot at the top. She handed the fire to me and it engulfed both of my arms. I stretched them out and it spread over me until my I was all fire and burning upturned flames, now I was watching myself from above. It was not hurting me, it was coming from inside. I was lighting, I was new.



i am too easily tempted by the dreamworld that rests on top of things which makes it seem easy and simple. it makes it seem possible to want only the good without any of the bad. i know that is not a reasonable to ask for. i want it anyways, but i dont ever expect to get it. i like the divide that exists between them.






october 10, 2001 - dream

Making my way along the walkway of a bridge over the river, there is someone walking behind me about hallway back. Off the bridge, I head straight for the thicket of bushes and vines. There is a matted down entrance and path which burrows further in. I wait just inside and watch the figure which had been following me walk off the bridge, over the gravel road, and make its way to my thicket. He crouches down and shuffles his way inside, I can see now that he is friendly and will do me no harm. I point to a tent nestled towards the end of a path and ask him if he knows whose it is. He shrugs and says yes, but that they have been gone for a long time and will not mind. It begins to rain lightly while we remain dry with the leaves and branches covering us. Down the little arched path to the tent which turns out to be very spacious and pleasant, it is pastel colors and a soft floor with blankets. Sitting around watching the ground slowly grow damp and glad that we have more substantial shelter. The person that the tent belongs to shows up, she says that it is okay to stay for the night. The man who I was with earlier leaves and is replaced by another girl. We pulled the covers up to our chins and curled up, it was cozy and pleasant. I was walking through my house, Amanda was there visiting and came into my room to say hell. She brought a package that had just arrived from Jennifer, it was a nice new calculator. I had no idea why she would send a calculator.






i was searching glass for
salvation
i found only
my reflection


* Not Included In This Offer
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climbing trees
the best ones are those that have limbs which radiate out from a reaching center trunk instead of the kind where the trunk subdivides as it reaches skyward.


october 16, 2000
This evening golden sunset fell through windows behind me leaving even the sterile office surroundings with a soft edge. And at least for that moment things were clear and simple again. Thoughts of the weekend washed over me, plans changed and rearranged, still nice end results. Considering whether we adopt the frenzy around us because we are absent a sense of history, past, and heritage. Filling voids. Out the window the sky was so pretty while I was buying gas, it was pulling me south forever. (i wanted to drive south forever)


The history of apple trees :
Damn, some other fucker already did it.


fuzzy sweater time.

Dreaming...(dec, 18, 2000)
when she woke up, her hands were still dreaming

kessenich says 'We saw red kangaroos, koala bears, certain birds, a platypus, a wallaby, an emu...and we've eate most of them.'



aspens lays down some gospel,
"you know, home just tugs at you when you're away, and when you come back it all seems so samey somehow."

Ive got all these wounds, but not really wounds. And I keep trying to put my hands over them, stop them from bleeding. And when I think it is just kind of healed over I move that hand to another wound waiting, and the one that was covered and almost alright starts gushing again. So I throw my hands up and let my insides splash out all over the ground, running off into little puddles and wondering what if anything is left inside.



i was so close to dying : again, and again and again.


providence had plans for me

The gap in the rocks, the tracks, the mainline and the engine.
The urge to jerk the wheel left into oncoming traffic. I am not certain that it has anything to do so much with death as just wanting some kind of spectacular catastrophe. A strange curiosity and the allure of something rich and saturated.


(Stolen from Heyoka's lists)

Paul Auster
The Book of Illusions *

Christiane Bird
Neither East nor West *

Richard Brautigan
An Unfortunate Woman *

Robert Byron
The Road to Oxiana **

Annie Dillard
For the time being **

Bill Drummond
45 **

Richard Flanagan
Gould's Book of Fish *

Jasper Fforde
The Eyre Affair ***
Lost in a Good Book **

Pico Iyer
Global Soul *

Giles Waterfield
The Hound in the Left Hand Corner *

Yann Martel
Life of Pi *

Paul Lefarge
Haussman, or the Distinction *

-----------------

Guy Gavriel Kay, the Fionavar Tapestry (grace)
Winter Birds (st/a/b)
The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay (heyoka)
Philip Pullman's amazing trilogy, starting with the Golden Compass
Ghostwritten, by David Mitchell
Raymond Chandler
Martian Chronicles
Not Wanted on the Voyage (courtney)
The Alchemist, by Paulo Cohelo
Tim Lahaye (dani)
Invisible Monsters
Ender's Game - Orson Scott Card.
Then Speaker for the Dead - Orson Scott Card.
"Phantoms in the Brain" v.s. Ramachandran
Blind Mans Bluff, Sherry Sontag
Wuthering Heights
Going Postal - Stephen Jaramillo
Juvenal .. Ellison .. Yeats .. Poe .. Lawrence
Broke Diaries (laura)
(watch) Rear Window (ryan)
Let's Compare Mythologies - Leonard Cohen
Jeanette Winterson (particularly Sexing the Cherry).
Bette Greene
Morning is a Long Time Coming.
Book of Laughter and Forgetting - Kundera (sonnet)
A Lesson Before Dying - Gaines.
It's Called Hope - Glen Duncan
Helen Cixous - Three Steps on the Ladder of Writing (anna)
Fernando Pessoa (anna)
Yehuda Amichai (anna)
Jean Giono, Horseman on the Roof (anna)
Clarice Lispector - The Passion According to g.h.
An Apple in the Dark
The Hour of the Star
Gullivers Travels
Clarissa
Francois Rabelais - Gargantua and Pantagruel
Powers of Ten (movie)
The Book of Yelps and Growls
Survivor by Chuck Pahilnuik (jackie)
biographies : Diane Arbus, Montgomery Clift (esther)
mole people - jared




Cycles. My life in seven stages
(the madness of half awake thoughts).

writing is terrible and wonderful and hard and easy and dangerous and gentle and so much more
i will write them in the fading wash of memory (that is all)
he made the stars speak to me in morse code (he was so powerful)
as much as I wish, I cannot
a thinly veiled disgusting
what is your finest moment? (tell me)
she is wimpering like maybe he is dead right next to her and she can't get up without touching him
what if we could pluck songs on the stars
i was asleep but now i am awake and my mind is wont shut up spilling all over the place
(half asleep i was thinking of ideals, thinking...) when you trigger this latent trap, this hidden beneath my skin dangerous
already paid for goodbyes that we could not return

blackberry picking with my kids





YOU KNOW, FOR POSTERITY.



I am not a sun, or even a moon, I am just a burnt out little star.


toss some toasted salted cashes in the bottom of it
throw in some soy milk
blend till cashew butter goodness, thin with soymilk as you go along
grind in some red pepper
then toss in some tofu, not a whole lot, half a package?
then add nutty yeast to taste
and whatever delicious italian seasonings you have roaming around the house.


Words I like?

supine
burlap Croissants Ingredients: pastry flour gluten flour 1/4 stick margarine yeast flax seed Directions: In a large cup, combine pastry flour with a few heaping spoonfulls of gluten flour and mix well. Add a heaping spoonful of yeast and several tablespoons of water and incorporate into a dough. Kneed for 5 minutes. Take 1/4 stick of margarine and loosely fold inside saran wrap. With the palm of your hand, flatten the margarine into a disk a few millimeters thick. Freeze for 5 minutes. Roll the dough into a 9" circle and place the frozen margarine disk inside. Bring the sides of the dough over to encase the margarine like an envelope. Quickly roll the dough with the margarine inside into a long, flat ribbon about twenty inches long. Place inside saran wrap and freeze for 5 minutes. Take the dough out of the freezer and fold it in thirds, bringing both sides together. Turn it a quarter turn and roll again to about twenty inches. Refreeze for five minutes. Repeat this process twice, so you will have rolled and folded three times in all. Always freeze the dough flat, not folded. The third time you roll out the dough, cut the twenty inch rectangle into two long triangles. Holding the base of the triangle, pick up the point and roll while stretching the dough. Make the triangle as long as possible. At this point, you can roll vegan meats, vegetables, tofu cheese or anything you want into the croissant by widening the base of the triangle and tucking it into a fold. Carefully roll the triangle from the wide side to the point. Place on a tin foiled toaster tray (ungreased) with the point on the bottom. Repeat with the other dough triangle. (You should stretch the dough until it is nearly two feet long. After the croissants have doubled, glaze them with water that has been boiled with several tablespoons of flax seed. Use a pastry brush. Flax seed water acts exactly like egg glaze. Bake in a toaster oven for 15-18 minutes at 360 degrees. These are great frozen. Wrap in saran wrap then tuck into tin foil and fold up the edges like a piece of gum. Reheat in toaster oven only 8 minutes for a plain croissant, 40 minutes on defrost for croissants that have vegan meats and cheeses hidden in the center. A proper croissant should have distinct layers of pastry when examined cross wise. Try to keep in mind when you are making the dough that you are essentially forming layers of margarine and dough. When the croissant is baked, the margarine gives off steam that seperates the layers and creates a flaky pastry. Serves: 2 Preparation time: 45 min indiepop-list@eskimo.com cold-storage and waving goodbye to : unexplored Realtively so, it is nice to think of them that way. Abandoned is close, but not precise. Made, once inhabited worked lived died in, set adrift. Cut back open, changed and shifted, neglect the most beautiful caretaker. New and uncharted. Holding treasures to be found made of the time spent there, exploring with reclamation.
Relatively, 
   so.

It is nice to think 
of them that way. 

Abandoned 
  is close, 
  but not precise. 

Made, 
once inhabited 
 worked 
  lived 
   died in, 
set adrift. 

Cut back open, 
 changed and shifted, 

neglect
the most beautiful 
caretaker. 

New and uncharted. 
Holding treasures to be found 
  made of the time spent there, 
  exploring with reclamation.


achan / adoxograph / ailie / a life in hell / ansate / anthropod / aphexious / ariels / artfuldodger / Attache

belle / Beltane / BigHoliday / bindlenix / birdonmyshoulder* / bitter_engineer / bozon / bunky / Byzantine

cakewalk / Chester / chevette / Chihuahua Grub / Chras4 / chromaticblue / claypenny / cobweb / coffy / CrowJane

datagirl / dannye / deep thought / dem bones / Demeter / dolphinboy / discofever / disgruntledwren / distractor / doggles / dpride

edebroux / Electric Mollusk / enth

factgirl / FelonyMPulse / flamingweasel / flyngfish / fondue

gahachino / General Wesc / girlotron / gnarl / Golem / graceness

Halcyon&on / Halspal / hamster bong / hamstergirl / hatless / heyoka / hoopy frood / hunt05 / hyacinth gurl

icicle / ideath / igloowhite

jessicapierce / jet-poop / Jinmyo / Juliet / junkpile

kessenich / knarph / Knifegirl

lawnjart / liha / Liz Lot / Lometa / lumina / longwinter

Magenta / Malicious Kitten / Mer / meta / mistero / Mojoe / mrfwiski

N-Wing / Ninja-Lad

Pedro / perdedor / Phyllis Stein / pingouin / piq / PJ Jules / Pocket Mouse / prole / Pseudo_Intellectual

Quizro

RACECAR / Rancid_Pickle / ril / rischi / rummage

Saige / Sarcasmo / sensei / ShadowLost /shapes / shmOOnkie pOOnks / sneff / soberty / soliloquee / stand/alone/bitch / Starrynight / scout finch

tandex / templeton / TerraIncognita / TheFez / thelonious / themusic / ToasterLeavings / Torque / tres equis / Trina / Twiin

Unstrung / Uberfetus

WickerNipple / Windigo / witchiepoo / whizkid / Wintersweet

Xamot

yossarian

zari / zgirll / zot-fot-piq

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