Diary of a fever | Haphazard | collection of thoughts | call it a | ship | Five-pointed star with an era inside it | bar | neon | A place to put the | mountains | A place to put the | wells | Entry for January 25th: | Tied up my mule outside the saloon | No dollarz, nothing to trade | but | ah, I need whiskey | Built a thirst | A place to put the churches | A place to put wrecked | cars | Left the road, here | you see? | went over the edge | Birds nested on it | It became something else, outside of language | floated | floated a long time | maybe | it’s still out there, in the | darkness? | Still | floating?…

It’s too early to say | I tried to explain to them | but they wouldn’t listen | They always put my words | into their words | put my thoughts | into their thoughts, or their | not thinking | Fate of everything, I guess? | everything, at least, that touches | on the human… | Spent 50 years | on my philosophy | relating the place | we put the animals | to the place | we put the ghosts | Heroes in China, strangers | in Cannes | Carried a mule | across the rocks | just habit | I suppose | The driver | was drowned | the girl | beside him | sang, and sang, and sang…

 


from the series bliss point | angels of disorder
(open-ended, 2012–present)

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