étant donnés (there was something very queer about the water)

étant donnés: 33

étant donnés: 35

étant donnés: 34

étant donnés: 3

étant donnés: 37

étant donnés:43

étant donnés: 38

étant donnés: 39

étant donnés: 40

étant donnés: 41

étant donnés: 44

( ) title from through the looking glass

étant donnés (your skin is black metallic)

étant donnés: 4 (your skin is black metallic)

étant donnés: 49

étant donnés: 1

étant donnés:27

étant donnés: 3

étant donnés: 24

étant donnés: 8

i still can't guess what you're after

it's the colour of your skin
your skin is black metallic
it's the colour of your skin
your skin is black metallic
your skin is black metallic
your skin is black metallic

i think of you when you're sleeping

it's the colour of your skin
your skin is black metallic
it's the colour of your skin
your skin is black metallic
your skin is black metallic
you're turning black metallic

it's the colour of your skin
it's the colour of your skin

your skin is black metallic


(images of death and post-death, from silver falls ore, by riccardo mutt)

without feet i still can follow you

extinguish my eyes, i still can see you,
close my ears, i can hear your footsteps fall,
and without feet i still can follow you,
and without voice i still can to you call.
break off my arms, and i can embrace you,
enfold you with my heart as with a hand.
hold my heart, my brain will take fire of you
as flax ignites from a lit fire-brand—
and flame will sweep in a swift rushing flood
through all the singing currents of my blood.

from rainer maria rilke's the book of pilgrimage
image - i honestly forget, some book cover i scanned....

eagle-owl, vanished into higher strata

recto

verso

a rose is a ripping off scraps of flesh, eagle-owl
the lamb-eating vulture, lovely as the law vanished into higher strata
the alcoholic's trembling hand, dissappeared on the horizon,
for i no longer knew what i was doing



text bastardized from paul knight's translation of lautréamont's
maldoror
my copy found in a trash bin in sf in 97, by the tower of light
who passed it on to me as he had it
god bless his soul, maybe i remember it wrong and it was just
in the street, i think with colin wilson's the outsider and a few
other life changing books.
this scenario reads like poetry from corman's a bucket of blood....