Thursday, 27 August 2015

The equations are as barbed wire
lines of denial

cutting across our way.

Both this way and the equations require roundness, and only once they 
no longer snarl and snag 
will the potency which can mathematically strip flesh from bone
transform to become a pattern of path lived under flashing
sun.

So much for supposition. 
In the meantime language is aligned to landscape and to body. As memory is lengthened by the corroboration of landscape and architectural theatre, so the images of words reside in the theatre, and so word-image is set alive by the way through a landscape.

In the meantime we are presented with a prison and a cryptogram; corporate ennui encultured as an aperitif for conspicuous consumption. 

The tangled wire is all around and boredom is stripped of the right to mean boredom.

Through the constant application of engulfment, conspicuously so, the round emptiness has been swallowed. It bowls along, and it voids all the voids. We avidly continue to avoid, this is the circulation of an exercise yard. 

These equations must be complete for that which they describe is already here. How is it that they bar our way to their own conclusion? Turn and turn again, this is the exercise. The snares and the stops; an algebra of liberation.

Suppose my voided centre glows in a soft expanding sphere which encompasses the limit and continues, merging and delighting in the delicate shimmer of your growing endless edge. 





Suppose infinite curls become infinite straight roads.

A breath expanded over these lines lights up like music, notation appears in each direction. 
A resonance returns we know not from where, and yet it sings. 

Thus by breathing do dimensions resound.
The knotted dimensions untie, this is the humming sound one can hear on very still nights. 

Now the wires snarl at their own dischord.

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