nyc

I started to live here. In my own cave. In the mourning dice. Of not knowing know-how it is supposedly what’s known. What we know forgotten, never the maw. Wide open. As mauvais the most. This maw after barking. After the spectacle of throwing dices into the abyss. The infusion of odor and scent in wax as the skull’ starting point. Of double origin and ignoring the duration. In transcendent matrix, my language is voices receding gestures of non-known. Double voices in genetic radical. The apex of inverted horizons. This static element of moving neither. Of no outer reversibility. Of ancestral chirruping betwixt flesh of stones. I suddenly live and die here. I suddenly began as a tsunami acknowledging the seas of flesh and fishes of thought and limps of horror.

name

sentence signed. contingent marriage between water and abyssal bed. revered fulguration of motives running through the depths of the pixeled sun, liquified cosmic interface traces the surface of an exterior pointillistic vector, once again signs husband and wife. a pillow too heavy to sustain dead stars swimming with whales of excommunicated fishes. fire is the alternative affair. a dark universe is a solution for a proper family name. no lines in this family. but a dead end. crashing. flooding. inhibited by its own festival of numbers.

coma

Code is a code a slice of cope fluctuating through manifest canvas reaching a single dimensional nigredo rotating a ribbon-like interface from tether, where prism resurrects incandescent input down up surpassing gate of color and essence an axiomatic maw wide open razing waves of black and white reaching a single self without qualia no one is but one, lens of –

restos

Quiebre polar de varias especies, en diferentes orientaciones discretas de la postura, allá se imploran los rezos de un sermón axiomático que se revela en la puerta hacia los pasos sin olas. Y en ese mismo océano encuentro el ruido de un cráneo disperso en el barro, como un remolino de arcilla que remueve la geometría del grupo acefálico en el rincón sonriente. En su juego leyendo a Pessoa, blandiendo su sombra esposada en el caserío que resguarda la danza aniquiladora que genera cada uno de los movimientos, el polvo que se vuelve un remolino de números ruidosos tamizados por la piel de la red de la que escapan los lobos crepusculares como una medusa que se posiciona en la órbita del rayo fotográfico que pisotea el fetichismo de los astros en aspersor jugando a las damas, frente al juego de ajedrez, en un extremo inconexo de la pradera en la que participan los cíclopes jugando al póquer como el cuerpo imaginario de la percepción abstracta que borra los trazos de la perifovea anal.

smoking twist

Against, or exclusively inside a straightforward attack, it is remembered as a dissonant gesture. It was registered as a non-sens between several sounds and signs in a vision-en-nom, such excessively accelerated position. But who could think of something else but an alphabet at the beginning? Nothing but stones cracking could be heard at that moment of sinister gnomic contemplation. Two faces inside an eye a night vision, a deserted polis. No new old matter recomposed as noise. No chaotic rocket twisting a circumference segregated as darkness enchained in a cave, as a foot of no decision. Not a code laying, but a mountain of pure opacity. That chromatic mountain, an impassable arch of infinite expression. Silence unsurpassable.