a longer spare moment

None of the poets in the ninth circle had eyes. I was
climbing a ladder into descending a staircase,
watching the spokes on the wheel forward it to some
professors in the Library Science Dept. Among the dust
of books, lightly glimmering as if moths had in this
very room shed their resistance to earthliness, I get
a longer spare moment. Asking us to try and reclaim
back our imaginations, our minds, our souls, the
missing of orb-shapes in a blistering white matters
like clots maim when, manic with fissures, I work in a
space here of relative confusion, consuming what could
be light but only (I find just when it's in my mouth,
just before the ultimatum swallows) turns out to be
every page created in an edition of 30 copies by the
contributors and then gathered and bound (every 30
contributors). Jesse, I am interested in this project
being a collective result, though I myself sit here by
myself, selfless and pre-determined. The
dematerialization of contents, as well as the
monitoring of bodies and places; there is no
distance, only proximity, and sitting near you as I do
too often to jog with memory through Tralfalgar Square
(I enjoyed these four poems quite a bit, and would
like to publish "Orphans" and "The Siege" in the
January issue of a newly sprung year, caught near the
hub of the bicycle where your hand spits damage on the
grain), I really love Basquiat, and dubuffet - in fact
I've been rereading Dubuffet's 'Asphyxiating Culture',
it always cheers me up that someone else distrusted
Institutions like I do.


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http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/


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