Everything’s future’s past’s present, everything’s falling -forward’s backward’s downward’s upward around here, still, constant, shaping. One leans into the other and shouts something in the other once, twice, a loop, a balling: “- ME!” “WHA?!” “HU- ME!”. Theyahuhug, then it’s a game where the rules are revolving, ahuhhahau, refolding around again then unleashed, leashed at last; everything’s future’s past’s present, everything’s falling around here, still, constant, shaping. One leans into the other and looks upon the river and murmurs a blowing sound in the fresh winding air, a creek, capillaries, estuaries swaying of branching out spindling into everywhere white, grey, a pale blue: “!” ?!” “-!”.
The dancers in the clubs then the dancers by the river, always either.
The other worlds
came to me in an e-mail sent with “big love”
from jeff schofield
a man from TYPE, a PR thing from Brighton
intending to precede this Auriént above that will be “on February 23rd on van Drumpt” [an album in June p.s.]
where van Drumpt is a record label in Stockholm, Sweden: their logo and logo is a cloud above that speaks to me and helped me talk back.
oh god that was a serious ungloop, somewhere real, the introduction, then struck up once more into the slot of a stream of a scroll one-way into the meta-data of a group of people doing similar things, promoted to post-hood, uploaded to the spongey canvas of an idea unraveled, screen-shot, music
toward some point where my right ear slowly nears to nears to some so murmurs -jolt
Trick! Heels hooked onto the same space, as the thoughts delineate … joy …