– Top You had a Bullet hole in your chest – the man that would not leave your side slept with us the whole night – you told me a little story - you were shot - you told me another little story about the man in the bed with us - My foot brushes against his leg – he does a crossword puzzle drinks coffee in bed ignores us and our conversation about him -With us – he likes it he likes To be around you all the time all he has to do is give the word to make it happen - In days he’ll arrive in Europe to sell his country’s new openness to trade - heads of state - are traces of this – we are strong enough that we remain traces – there are people in places who hold this world together – I believe that – I believe I will never experience what it is like to be human to live a human life – there are a few places left – and they don’t need me to visit them or be there – I prefer to travel while appearing to be perfectly still --- all that I don’t know is what gives me hope all that lost knowledge and dead practices --- we are progressing backwards and to the end – it is also true we are progressing forward and expanding – and that something beautiful is happening – the story of white nationalism is not the beginning of the story – everything in relation to this story - I want the periods of world history back - we cant apply what we learn from this location –during dreaming there are no fixed words for images – the images are mine but the story is ours Love is who - we are an interruption - before anger – sadness is what love looks like isolated and helpless – sadness is the love one feels suddenly placed in bondage – isolated unable to – sadness is love knowing it is not enough - a healing forms unexpressed – the crows are landing closer to my window - their wings – the body remembers accumulated sadness – a collective sadness being silenced language culture history - who gave the world its first humanity – what happens when I listen to these stories – how do I do that alone – do I must do I– listen to what speaks through – the movements of liberation are light - transforming interior layers together – public space – why can`t we - give me our body – to dream pleasure for the first time – to know it between each breath – to fall with the unnamed - human story – Peripheral Visionary A specific rejection of the whole story was how my story began – if life is a cut-up than so is memory I renew my renewal – What is the story it tells itself about itself - the ones I can`t escape – A clean and ironed white shirt – I am made nervous by memory – how can something so disturbing communicate so little – what belongs to me when you are doing the dishes - be careful not to splash up water - of isolation wild laughter and confidence - in our dreaming - What makes a true story untellable – writing at once belongs to the old ways - broken new direction we are making – the unseen world is - not linear - call us something when we are born - this has nothing to do with it – we are born into story – our being is its breath - the continue written in layers - no need to know anymore - take the - words away for a moment and start screaming – release knowing entirely - this too is possible and it allows for some distance that I may turn toward the night less distracted - that which has been buried speaks another language - deep down in the dirt - time is a factor – I am surrounded I remember that I am made of the substance - searching finding and destroyed – I am made -I experience not knowing with a particular certainty – I continue other words
