Text */ by Kathleen Ottinger, Alan Sondheim /* http://www.alansondheim.org/around.png ============================================================== boundary is a body an outside outside there is no body outside there, is nobody outside: there's nobody filtering through wet sand which is everything I'm not and quality of worlds. ontologies the opposite of a text is an unravelled sweater - nothing's in the sweater we appear as an afterthought an afterthought, outside, is already forlorn while we're writing this, people are being killed, brutally people are brutally killing beset by the real, i'd say the blood is real as long as i'm able to speak, as long as i have eyes, the blood is real nothing's in the sweater always already beset by virtuality if it's not empty, what should it be sack bottom sack top sack circle filtering through wet sand beneath this world which moves the sand is a sieve the sand strains the body the body turns to broth it dries out the hardness of the desert once there were trees there was language now there's no language there was language now there's no language there was language now there's no language we appear as an afterthought with vast expectations we used to be able to speak we had tongues and hands we anticipated we had hope I cant do anything but adjust software, filter, text borders on the way to cold death and evanescence if it's not empty, what should it be i'll tell you it should be stunning it should be beautiful it should be beyond beautiful sack meat strung-up look, you see there, it should be beyond beautiful the body is a temple, a shrine, a holy place the body is contrary, untoward so beautiful is the body so ver beautiful filtered through wet sand the first place is always that of the other with vast expectations and ways and means of taking for granted things and the world they come from the second place is that of the other and of the third the third place, is that of the other cold shallow in the breathing labored the speech which rides the breath and quality of words. grammatologies with vast expectations while the true world gnaws my dreams and fears of dying I can't do anything but adjust software, filter, text active filters are maintained through the energy of the other through the function through the function the other has made of me through the object and token the other has made, of me of me, the object and token of me, the function this makes a new and wild thing which is everything I'm not nothing gives way but plasma cut across spermatozoa, limb, and limb and limb multiply, submerged, that is the time and quality of worlds. ontologies we appear as an afterthought here at the light altar I am Architect if it's not empty, what should it be what worlds to build and raze what dances, what poems? and the world they come from a filtered, flat, gone world, enlightened, black closes that sphere that I am multitudes are there divided pains divided hopes close against them and then among them I burst won't it hoping parcel paper brown a parcel a parcel which arrives for us a parcel which is not too late or early a parcel which arrives burst for them will it close for them with vast expectations and the worlds they come from inside scars marks, scrapped sphere, shattered if it's not empty, what should it be _______________________________________________ NetBehaviour mailing list [email protected] http://www.netbehaviour.org/mailman/listinfo/netbehaviour
