[NetBehaviour] from the herebefore the hereafter

[Alan Sondheim via NetBehaviour]

from the herebefore the hereafter

i feel increasingly feverish, more often than not 'low
temperature,' wondering how to get through this (brain fog
yet again), how to speak properly what to say, if i can
speak completely, if there is 'complete speech,' if the
chills are 'real' temperature, whether the room is shifting,
if there is 'real' temperature, if my memory is correct that
my memory is correct, if there is memory, if i repeat myself,
if i repeat for you, where is that sound coming from, what
does it mean to cohere, why a sudden or transverse interest
in my music, why i am drinking maatcha, why it feels as if
those fires in those hills touch me from afar, why i feel
as if i am still living near the burned out scrub near the
sign, whether the sign was meant for me, why people feel the
need for gods rather than batteries, why there are batteries,
whether what works works rather than batteries, rather than
not, if i am hollow or too hollow, where is my annotated
blake, why writing without capitals runs under the thin
light between the door and the outer world, the light, that
is, that is under the door itself and the floor, that is
that portion of the floor that has no carpet, so that light
emerges, as if flooding a thin area between the door and
the room with its other light, that is the light from the
ceiling or the light near the windows, why, and this is of
importance, the cacti are all dying, for example the one
that is thirty years old and is mewling, losing its arms,
i am still in mourning, i know i wrote this, almost a pale
scale of sorts, nothing seems to stop that, branches now
broken, i know i mentioned that in a previous post, not
just this one, now five lines ago already, look up you
will see them, the floor pale the room pale, now i return
to the musima guitar repaired of offered by yet another
ghost in my life, i will drink maatcha forever, did i
mentioned the burned out scrub near the sign, near the
sign of the world where celluloid cadence is the great and
fundamental ecology, is see it everywhere now, o the
distance of the tasmanian devil, arroyos, mountains, sand
and everywhere implicit, here, now, x,y,z,t, i repeat my
self, i repeat my mind, repeat my body, stop me if you can.

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