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Jolon Dixon -

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QueryMe He would fit in a box if he could find sticky tape FeedMe ]

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11/19/2012 12:48:00

Here is a manual
on handling the closing in
of these day-time hours.

—- 2012/November/Bruntsfield

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11/08/2012 13:33:00

Lethe
Do androids drool lithium while they sleep under tin foil blankets on oil-beds.
—- 2012/November/Bruntsfield

Lethe

Do androids drool lithium
while they sleep under
tin foil blankets on oil-beds.

—- 2012/November/Bruntsfield

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10/21/2012 00:02:00

Chivalry is undead
As time is a line of the beatsOf your heart counting down, reserveMe a number of places in that queue;To love with chivalry as Don QuxioteDid [or as Sancho did for his ass]On my journey of unravelling loops.
To Lay my cloakOf a body faceDown on a street in the rain to save you from the mud;Rather than to love in the darkAs a child does for the light.
- 2006/July/Vratislavia

Chivalry is undead

As time is a line of the beats
Of your heart counting down, reserve
Me a number of places in that queue;
To love with chivalry as Don Quxiote
Did [or as Sancho did for his ass]
On my journey of unravelling loops.

To Lay my cloak
Of a body face
Down on a street in the rain to save you from the mud;
Rather than to love in the dark
As a child does for the light.

- 2006/July/Vratislavia

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09/18/2012 14:07:00

It’s a eggshell day.
He stares at the concrete
Speckled it is
Like a sea-bird’s produce
Worn and showing its grain.
The white glares when above
The sky is blue

and he feels the hard surface
in his bones.

Now the sky is orange and black.
The product of a kiln
Above the pines.
This time his eyes hurt from consumed wood
And he looks with watering eyes
At the charred remains
And the flames
But his thoughts are frozen
Stuck in the attempt to remember
A word for those orange dying specks

and he feels his socks will
almost burn.

Here the sky is truly black
It’s a few years back
And he watches the crash
Of the water - whatchamacallit -
Against the front of the ferry.
Leaning over the rail
He tries hard to keep his eyes peering
Through the stiff wind and salty spray
At the dark hills
Mulching krill.
People below lay down - no seats -
And hope they will not hurl
But a lone woman joins him in
Joy at the storm;
Later they share few words
And to him she doesn’t sound foreign at all
Then she is gone

and he’s sick
tying the right knot
to keep feet snug
while he thinks about Godzown.

- 2012/September/Bruntfield

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08/26/2012 23:46:17

And so I grabbed
and pulled with might;
maybe I would
tear off the skin
around it and leave
its pure flesh to brown
in the fresh air.

But perhaps one
certain innocent would
be blind to that
leftover
on the pavement
and wouldn’t that
go all pear-shaped?

So being left to wrestle
with dear cotton
I could only fumble
one faded T-shirt off
over my head
and leave that buddha belly
ripening in the sun.

—-2012/August/Sciennes

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08/02/2012 23:30:00

But this unbreathing
music crunching fine fabrics
within laughing gears

an act of futile
sabotage or perhaps true
prostrate sacrifice

to a cog monster
spewing hot smoke from both ends
while we stand dazzled

motley half-naked
in flesh and fluorescent tubes
fools breathing all sweat

— 2012/August/Sciennes

***More on Futurism***

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07/05/2012 11:59:38

elephantsareweird:

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

elephantsareweird:

Pyotr Ilyich Tchaikovsky.

(Source: twerkyvulture, via no-tritones-for-you)

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07/04/2012 11:55:01

MOONDOG stamping ground 1969 (by Duyntje3)

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06/23/2012 23:58:00

Not the Claws of a Bird of Prey

Gérard Grisey : Talea (1986)

Isolated whines
the fresh accompaniment
to store-bought pizza

Isorhythm

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05/20/2012 12:00:14

That motley creature flapping cool air, escaping bump bump bump bump bump
its undercurrents bump bump bump bump bump bump bump if you leave your heart
ashen behind onthe ground and sail the high seasbump incandescent
bump bump bump bump bumpOne’s wings may wither and charin a light storm bump
against siren curvesand bump from your body somebump bump dark bump bump
bump inclement bumpbump precipitation bumpBe careful children!

That motley creature
flapping cool air, escaping
bump bump bump bump bump

its undercurrents
bump bump bump bump bump bump bump
if you leave your heart

ashen behind on
the ground and sail the high seas
bump incandescent

bump bump bump bump bump
One’s wings may wither and char
in a light storm bump

against siren curves
and bump from your body some
bump bump dark bump bump

bump inclement bump
bump precipitation bump
Be careful children!

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05/17/2012 19:18:35

Those dark satanic contact centres

we touch ourselves
each time
you call to find your balance

we mouth each number
and caress
our lips with hot breath

maybe you can hear
us smile
but you cannot watch us

we flick our tongue against
wet teeth
to add that word pounds.

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05/17/2012 18:31:14

those mornings

On the face of it

red colon blinks

Pour a spot

watch tea

clouds form

brown toast crumbles

love, you’ve drawn the short

One

sharp red match-stick

finds a new spot

on the face of it

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04/25/2012 12:02:38

Dust Unsettled for voice, trombone, cello, piano and percussion (2012)

Mauricio Pauly

Text borrowed from ‘Hombres que se caen del caballo’ (Men who fall off horses) by Gabriel Montagné Lascaris-Comneno.

Performance by Eunoia Ensemble on March 16th 2012 at the Gare du Nord in Basel, Switzerland.

JOHANNA GREULICH - soprano

STEPHEN MENOTTI - trombone

ELLEN FALLOWFIELD - cello

CLEMENS HUND-GÖSCHEL - piano

LOUISA MARXEN - percussion

[Broken Consort]

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04/24/2012 17:37:00

Paper for your wall

Can vegans listen
to the mother’s father
of the buddha Dada?

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04/24/2012 12:03:11

Broken consort breath! What violence so doth moves the air by horse-hair?

Broken consort breath!
What violence so doth moves
the air by horse-hair?

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