John Deere Model 520 Pedal Tractor

life of Marcel Proust - a autobiography finish.

not write a poem but a series of

phrases one might say

to write a series of phrases that will
though not in verse but a discontinuous


person imitates
especially not believe either one is original


reveal nothing at all
continue to be wary of any
to start with ourselves

impressions

descriptions of what is around you

night lights
congestion in the bus that crosses the river
fatigue under my beard
she will not because of me
neither fatigue nor beard
silence still
despite the absurd speech in low voices in telephones
I do still want to murder


envy of Apocalypse
envy of radical evil
unsuccessful but released
something other than themselves
something other than me
always want to fuck difference

want flexibility
desire for appeasement
finally released but not chosen by me
forms of joy

not stop the joy
better let her take the top
c ' is thus that life must end

to end the book
look elsewhere in the book which would be even
traces
book


clouds umbrellas on the evening star
face the extreme point the evening star
I left for love
not a city but a girl here is
paris
here is not the conversion of life
here is the same desire to live that is not
ie write
ie the opposite

parades stars
long chains of shame
affected display of vulgarity
that are thrown on the face of misery
writing is foremost a political
to escape after they are put
feet of Saint germain

remember though love turning a blind eye by not closing

not see anyway
I am more than
marcel
perhaps any
but it is not an end

Hemorrhoids Am I Pregnant

nothing, 3

often seem to have listened so hard that if you put them end to end it would take years to listen to new ones in the background those not aware that they refuse to listen if you had a choice as we listen to those that would regret having known in advance so as not to suffer they instead are never tire of hearing again and again and stopped only because the attitude of the stream is still unhealthy and also the idea obviously you're never alone in this case that we are many and these discs butt form a sound version of our lives, not their soundtrack more than that a version that sounds that is to say such time as another thunderous noisy to some other room and how that music is played primarily instrumental leaves room for his own voice it is not necessarily high but it is present it talks about the music speaks for it music in the midst of hours of music in making it clear that our lives are in the midst of hours of music, stating again that our lives are not exactly in the middle they are somewhere in these hours of music including when there is no music when we stopped the music because we can not go on because the head is hit by these hours of music all hours of music are a way in the middle of my life more than that in the midst of all the lives you can imagine the moments I lived I would have loved those live ones I shared the ones I'd forgotten if only I could forget about the ones I know only too well that I love so now my head is struck by all those hours of music and this is not an author who writes but his skull that speaks his skull that makes sounds that echo the sounds when they are no longer audible my head is struck and resonant that I wrote is I broke even in the midst of these sounds

Photo: © Nathalie Siek ( http:/ / www.flickr.com/photos/tinemfou/ )