Mycelia of Whales

Let’s get greasy.

Once upon a time I was born into the blue world. You should have seen it. Every morning ran across the walls which ran across the hills. With holds full of spermaceti the boats pulled into the harbor. They chattered in different languages: fine and low Italian, something German and Chinese and Japanese.

Fragments, tatters, the little moments, a register:
-A boy astride the frame of his bicycle, peddling through the ages
-Persimmon: branch: she picks mushrooms for her yellow soup
-The ink scales, alive for me.

Can what rearrange them? Now this intaglio, not this drift.

Watch this piece of the world like: do what you say sand say what you will do early on: let the world absorb your Word.

The lives you know will drift, go on, write them: scrimshaw for someone somewhere. Their lives now: deposited in me:

-Mother and father
-the Presidents
-Arches Bridges
-Bi Gone
-John Rott English

Ah I think that I’m done for now. See these imprints.

Five black witches with yellow skin. Materialized on the corner where I was born.

-Hey what movies were those?
-Hey Goodbye, goodnight
-With all the letters
-I thought for a time I would get rich off my notes, delusional:
-But now I speak with a mouth full of rust
-Come on get it out come on get it the fuck out.
-Hi, Naomi.
-You’re leaving. Your work attire?
-Yes. Yes. Yes

Fucking fool.

Now the eyes tangle.

Back and back and back and back and back. Aye some brainwork this is! Loose cannon, dust to settle: more? If I die? Last will and joke of a testament not yet printed. Jarring to read the nothing I had bequeathed the world. Working on it.

He walked in proud— Try: he woke up that day… Not not — yes, this: outside the moon was blue. No dammit, no! Buried.

Forestwood. Used to recite:

-and in the Darkness bind them

The deep, deep woods. As you approach Hauppauge Highschool from Veterans Memorial H.W. you see the green island as far as the Northport smokestack. Fucking trapped in forever Forest. 到山顶俯视;这岛我卜居, and I’m trying to carve my name, soul, love for us in the changing face of clouds and waters.

Went in and ended my two year voyage around the world last week. Had to see a bit of the territory. It’s mine it’s mine it’s mine it’s mine. 我ith the ballad of the stars on my lungs.

Floss obtained from the undersides of leaves. If not at 2 am then never. What would she understand about the fire wrapped around, my aorta? Wouldn’t’ve from a glimpse: in which knots had tangled. I disguised myself too.

Women who know these men from the second they’re born until the moment they die.

Cooped up in Hen frigates for a year. No other friends. Neither mwah. Blorder glines. Bian, bian bian bian stop. Stop. Bian. Nice water animation.

I gun that fucking Jeep past the cameraman and assistants standing around. Hi Beth.

-How fast?
Exhale blue smoke
(Ava are you taking these notes)
-I don’t know.

Nicotine melt tar puddle. Not my style of note-taking either, or writing. Deep in the laboratory.

Drive and turn and inhale: again.

Cole drops his hand. All of the world is in my veins. Their lives at my fingers that they know. Chugga-chugga

-Was that scooter?
-Goodjob dying.

At the time of his death I watched the sun droop into the trees behind the highschool. All of the twilight air seemed to contain your atoms. For you and for all I shake myself out of these cinders. Rising and rising and rising. Gone now: she’s gone and everything. Nothing holds up, not the scalp atop the world. But for a single moment to sustain a note of violet and dream, could end.

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