1913issue6online

89 Away in the angled ostensible clean lines slide and cross.She carried the torsion of the space with her for hours af- terward, occasionally lilting, resilient against the warping in her middle. Alone and less alone. The resentment a bright screen upon which it’s all projected. A sucker for the mind/ body divide, the long river that cuts it deeper. Foreign agents, see? Everything done had a tint of the criminal. Something so disturbing about the machine’s autonomy. The head a factory for an agency. I can see multiple blurred outcomes, the pres- ent scenario only a weak prelude to a long chain of verdicts of variable intensity. Solvent, somnolent, thanks to another scripted exchange. I’m not your problem solver, baby. A man is based on a longing to be a man. Never changes the nature of our brief conversations.But other, closer sounds carry a more immediate weight. Is it me or is it the room that feels fatigued? I can see multiple buildings under construction. A worker in a red shirt I’m sure is saying something. The dying plant seems to be reach- ing for the open window. The environment in last night’s dream wasn’t fully rendered. Of course the best thing one can do in a case like that is keep one’s space and one’s body clean. As if everything has the ability to know better. That last cigarette left me feeling numb. A whipped and skinless tract of land. It is ok to kill bugs when they are in your space. Can one claim such ownership or the authority to attribute it to anything else? She got into the cab and I thought, there she is. What will keep them from tearing around like maniacs? I have to walk this way for now. At midnight, new meat. Point at the moon, point at the pointing. Tie your fingers in knots and shut the fuck up. Those moments, weakening the ether,

1913issue6online

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