Box Kites of Four Dimensions.

your head is closest to an oval.
there's no pure geometric shape that's more of a match
but let's not assume an oval is a good fit, either.
I can only look at it in two dimensions
and so it is difficult to verbalize it, it, it,
there's a nose in the way,
but I can make myself ignore that if I need to,
and there're several sockets spread along the surface
but I guess it's necessary to have them

stop nodding, girl, you need not apologize

3423981827371:.

Nigel! Eh Nigel!

There's no part of this screen that's not moving. The screen here is so soothing, so soothing it's nauseating. But it wasn't always like this and the blues and the greens have a habit of making me think it's the first day all over again. I know it's happening, I can't stop it, I don't want to stop it, I hate that screen. All the acids flying. All the colours flying.

She's going to die. She's not, and neither is he, but she will. He'll die too.

Nigel!

'Where's my drink, mate?'

Unimportant, Nigel. Listen to me.

Why is retrieval so difficult?

'I'm still thirsty!'

'... yes, I know, Mr. Nigel, just one moment, Mr. Nigel...'

Nigel! Nigel!

She was only fourteen. Well, I do what I do.

The Future is Predictable..

Well dag. I've still got that cold. I realised that I was hungry last night in all my blowing my nose and so I cooked myself a potato and it was all cold on the inside. To think we can cure AIDS and cancer and public transportation is everywhere for cheap and we still haven't improved on the microwave oven...

I've been using that telephone. It was fun for awhile, but no one's reacting how I expected them to and you know they have this new model (like, in the present) out that improves on hologram technology, so maybe this was my entire technology archaeophilia era. And it's over. Dag, it's not fun and it doesn't solve my problems.

I'm going to go eat out with my friend here in a few minutes. Honestly, I just want some hot food. That's not unreasonable, is it?

The Future is Boring..

I felt sick, so I walked to the pharmacy, and I picked up the cards for the Sudafed, which is kept behind the counter, but then before I knew it the cards for some albums and some futons were also in my hand, and they too are kept behind the counter. Maybe I was planning on lying on the futon while listening to the music while my sinuses cleared up? Why do they even have cards for those things?

Maybe they need to have, like, maybe, a card for NO CARDS. That'd be new.

I've been thinking of trying to find my old wireless landline telephone. I think it's in one of the boxes out in a garage... maybe going back to a simpler technology would be better for me. I don't know.

Earthquakes Call Us to the Things of this World.

My future and my past are slightly jagged corkscrews,
all my adverbs accordioned across that path,
which, itself, always wants to keep moving!
But forces keep it, along with me, encircling
(a simple machine if I ever saw one).
All my dates and times and places reduce to segments,
coordinates along a the rocky schedule.
Intangibles, in prisms, in atmosphere, inertia.
So if I want to see you, I have to scout a point;
orient myself so I fall into place,
the jigsawed system, we the final pieces
slam with enough force to knock some earbuds out.
Reorient what swings me to vertical
and we are falling, or sliding, sick and standoffish,
crusty, with old plans and trajectories latent on the mantle.
It's a good thing that I'm used to this climate,
for I know in my core that I am never exiting:
ad nauseam 3-D timecircles lack the momentum
to swing me free into uncharted, open space,
oceans, prairies, deserts, Fridays, encounters.

Vector: 11 November, 2007..

I'm on the verge again. I'm on the verge.

I'm not extremely close, though. But I am close.

The Tinted Word I.

Your Grand Sublimation..

Waves and wind and nebulae
(aeronautics, astronautics, oceanography)...
If I was to traverse you, would I find you agree?

I'm afraid for your evaporating soul;
as you delete, I cannot shift to alternate control,
nor can I enter, they've locked a cap for toll

and I don't have the means or homes or ends
to pay for liberation for you, for my sake or your friends'
and so you will just disappear between the exosphere and catch the bends.

DASH 'EM!

If I was twice your width, I'd kill you.

(to be screamed)

'All music is repetition, which is a major problem.
What is repetition for? For? Seven—eight?'
'Correction; the world is not constructed wif dashes.
Today's pioneers reside in hyphen-houses because
with the same supply one can make twice the
punctuated projects in half-time. And besides,
aren't we about reticulate-community, and isn't it selfish
to demand that much space? With the em dash?
Cut yourself in half or convert to hyphonics.'
'That's ridiculous.'
'What a waste of a good line. You could have said
"That's ridiculous, and I feel sad about it."'

Convincing Points..

Fully charged Quantumsex, irreducilbly complex

yellow laterostreetmarkers, Fridays

—

She formed a bloodstream reticulatorium
(after the skeletal moratorium)
and I could see in her...
eyes [?]
... .

—

ENCAPSULATE MUSIC, LINGUISTICS

—

In America, bread® comes in sticks®,
consumoresearchquantumtestedorganicoined,
bred in Styx.

—

Your honor, if I was and still am doing my duty for the genome,
if you really think about it,
how am I in any sense, guilty?
We don't wish for the best parts of our species to die
and so if I have, in my time,
slaughtered a few enemies, or perhaps
fucked a few good Christian girls,
it was for survival or reproduction,
plus, between you and me, aren't they the best kind?

—

I don't know what perspective to skew anymore...

Five Minutes in Dawkins..

'...seductiveness raised power explain improbable unlikely evades improbability riddle stupendous restatement grotesque amplification anthropic answer general discussing capable producing existence determines therefore zones physicists vary everything unknown imagine numbers freer diameter needed twiddle unsatisfying plausible setup eventual almost theoretical analogy sentenced reflect missed bribed suggestion universes multiverse megaverse constants bylaws plethora alternative presumably happen propitious intriguing theory ultimate values destined stabilise equilibrium reverse culminating models expansion cycle billion serial initiated terminated previous understands singularities conceivable forever accordion parallel biogenic daughter mutated selection reproduce predominate...'

Почему? (Илья, не знают. Они некрасивые.)

A.
—How would you relate that line to the rest of the poem?
—I understand, but to do so would require a poem in itself.

B.
—An imposition of decode. Colourly chatterbox.
—But flip back and look at the date! Commentary abound!
—Focus. We zoom in. A-F, stop, G-Z.

C.
—You shall, then, connectit.
—Why? She is trying to make a statement.
—NO! I have made a statement already!
—.... but we... we had an argument together...
—No. Too many statements.

D.
—Unfortunately, your time is UP.

50,000 Appreciations!

November, you elegant, relevant, prevalent, marvelous, torturous, tortuous, splendid bastard!

Welcome back, old friend.