STRETCHING

slowly and comfortably we got used to the way things used to be. there was neither love nor harvard in that intensity of the variety there was inert, and so to speak, without action there was loveless script and thrift and if not, something totally less encompassing, and happenings like rain fall on the digit sundial score, through without a sighted reverb, to look around is not nearly the shore, nor shape of things nor position or distance or panhandling, nor anything at all.

infact, spotlike in the nakedness of trouble storm lookout, a windsealed screen of vision and settlements aboard there is frankly less than one another to bother afore-mentioned- and to lie, to satre like that, to stand, this business all becoming and readying and thanctifying for what its worth to be involved…and like lightning – like intuition, like drum- drawed and ignored , without grammar and season, and instance all the more, there is just writing and tether, terror beyond that, there is seeing what is teething and recognising that, there is nonchalant and shoelace and a bottom to be bored and anger like a dishrack, simple science makes the score. there is hatred in that thing that you think is all here, there is trust and envelope in that, there is too much on the reverb and not enough of that, and then there isn’t all that there is don’t forget about that , the obvious and the disorient, who knows how to forget about that. and outdoor research like a lisper in the snow, is deafening for entering – for even trying to be [part of the show, like seatbelt and anyways and hordes of worth within, hallway out to wear its necessary yet are never allowed within. and if i think about it i hate it, if i think about its me if i think about a carnival the plot thaws out to me and winters – simmers freezing, like a backtrack on its lot and if i come away to start it there goes all the lot and mateship, company a someone in the scoff is all that’s necessary and efficiently blows it off, i hate it, i hate it, i hate all that’s me, i want a tiredness unending that will just let me be, and not think nor care nor be or are or peruse of where i stand…-no bicycle, no backdrop, no remedy, no reason to explain, no why no how no where no do,

just done.

STRETCHING

061202

nicolee ferris