Monday, 12 July 2010

Toeless trailer trash. Shipwreck. Urchin. Lost child. Looking out to sea. No more wheels. Person powered kinetics from now on. Maybe we should push the caravan from place to place? Maybe that would be better than art, better than electrics or engines or anything like that.
It would be something to talk about. Something else to dream fever for. This is a performance, but no-one is watching, and that makes it better. Not this fishbowl life, not life imprisoned by the internal organs of houses. no, not i.... I.....

1 comment:

  1. I wonder what you mean by soon
    if time is illusory
    and memory
    some kind of side-effect

    I'm not crazy
    or possessed
    or even obsessed
    it's just the circling of the stars

    everything I miss
    is so close
    the future is a breath
    until it slips through your lips
    until the oxygen
    your heart