|
Tight neurons pass on in favor of the fight. This is the way to move and fro styled frenzied palm fronds finger the wind of glass, in a tropic place somewhere. Wind-formed faces look as frozen mirrors, in that wind of glass, a dead sea wind. Keep a standing body intact, with feeling for an age of null and bliss. There is no clamoring rat-cage wetness of multiple presence. There is no full thick five-lunged breathing now. Not here, not now. Nothing shared but unstained violet air. and sleep.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
When God gave the first humans consciousness, he whispered advice under his celestial breath as they shivered their way out of Eden; 'obscure thyselves'. Every tribe or half-simian with the ingenuity has since learnt to brew or distil fluids and vapours to occasionally relieve themselves of the intolerable jabber of thought; to numb their magnificent senses just enough to sensually smudge judgement and nerve.
A good bar is sanctum to this need. ...
|
|
-- Brian Catling
|
|
|
your input is necessary for neoscenes to maintain a presence. join in supporting the neoscenes webspace and the ongoing work of artist John Hopkins -- many thanks for those who already have!
|
|
the neoscenes mailing list is a low-volume announcement list of streams,
projects, and bytes of info culled from the neoscenes in/out box: subscribe
|
|
|