slips

“right now, looking at the ground, distance was the first thing to go, rolling”

“snatch, snatch,
a heightened handshake”

“rolling so far, yet a great intimacy told, hinges on barter”

“disorder gradually stores unanswered necessities – under an unmade bed was a painting of an unmade bed”

“smile, name, ask,”

“hinges resist with such virtuosity the painful patterns – you sketched on a scrap of paper some natural condition, it looked like we could invent initiative or at least a mock-up, practically all the rest of the world was based on mirrors, that is what you said, there was a faddishness to the way you faced first things, almost as if the word first was itself pure whimsy”

“from the sure side of disorder, based solely on a painting that is, it had never actually been witnessed, the sure side gradually laid claim to untaming”

“point of calling, water of time, crawl out from”

“snatch, snatch, grab”

“the ground from a distance, was that something we could be sure of? the slightest whiff of a guarantee convinced even the greats, I had heard you describe slips in right now, they sounded like epigraphs”

“such moments do not take practice”

quiver,

“then you noticed a bringing back, consistent with the postponement of finally – double-decker opponents blew bubbles at each other’s smokescreens”

“a pair of boots, a spoon, some hot water, a drawing pin: ah some inventions still allude us”

“attacked by a suggestion of everything, cool reconstruction of the impossible, a mixup that broke down your persistence – is that why you often did not laugh at the comedy of it all? but opened a compartment, blew smoke into it and called it a lung”

“you said exceptional things can happen, and that whatever fell was on the whole more chaotic than those handmade sincerities… little by li”

“twenty-four hours, a red rag”

“chosen in sleep to feel the palm of replica or is that another story carefully embalmed,

can quiver ever be?"

“arch of one way
cackling truth told
mood making two”

“you said exceptional things… when I go into a dark room there is a man lecturing incredible colours on priorities

such times did sink the long night
it’s not easy to talk about”

this mosaic

“maybe you remember the sacrifice one-sunset threw
like the last party, half-broken from lack of use, lethargically sealing daybreak into afternoon, and do you remember how you tried to be proud

it was the way your hand wrapped around anything left falling which I vaguely recognised

sinking, you would read books overflowing with questions and play content

in a roundabout way sense made since reach within

passing underneath all thinking

coming to, while the others went on; everything had been clothed in trivia, whole chunks of phenomena were brought to bear

and little by little, since you may not remember, this mosaic, disassembled over time”

“moving around between humour and confession, but also making a gradual entry into a silent culture, maybe.. why not… those days so used to trying, so used to imitating, can this be all there is to it? what had taken place in the grooved mania was anything but, then at other times any pillow any familiar vacancy shaken to emptiness

then a paradox: talk is blind”

“leaving the street, stopping, looking at sky, sitting, smoking, stroking hair, inventing sighs, ah this upright life”

“such moments take practice”

one P each

putting in a crouch
where appearances cross
back, forth, float, s
ss..slightly
it was quite natural
to step over steps to narrowness where over is over used

she was convinced the careless were apt to be just the opposite, got-together by surprise, making up dates for days unwritten, as some kind of need that lines paper and limits eople to one P each

who peeks, runs

around does go around

“just the same”, [deafening pause]
“just the same”

… pay lip service to

vowels, the unscaffolded aeiou
lambasting their own clique for
queueing to be certified in Hawaiian: hooiaioia
these record-holders of the consecutive
hop me to the lipogramarians –

feeling a bit constrained I muse on the sometimes absent y
the sigh-born awareness of incomprehension


“Did she say incomprehension?”
“Sorry, can you ask me the question again, I’m not sure I understand.”

… yawn -

a stream of vapour lessons
somersaulting to navel
in a stunt, a veritable feat,
of knack over knack over knack
to…

[somewhere she said: “exhausted by sigh, incomprehensible in translation.”]

to…

pay lip service to…

… does silence mature

into something visible across the grain?
with a table leg each, they smothered taking a stand

(waiting to steadily set off to live a craft)

(to craft a life, to set off, to steadily set off to craft a life, a life set off steadily, craft off set steadily to live)

leading stifle [1387, "to choke, suffocate, drown," of uncertain origin,] astray
as
yawn <
opens
proceedings

… a widely unknown

table, high up (but distinctly not “high table”)
where, as I mentioned, our foursome gather -
they have two routes to go by, (splitting their sides
with shrill humour)

ha ha – by either, or?

or either and or?

evidently some moonlighting takes place
(in the inaccurate notebooks I found this: “things can be achieved in darkness” – it surprised me, being as it was before the table)

(fanatic representation = i plus i minus you)

So back to the exits: http://andinfall.blogspot.com/2007/12/is-it-possible-for-two-to-go-where-one.html

“The opposite of an abbreviation is two going where one cannot.
In its longer form does silence mature?”

… a table for consolation

conversation consoled the elevated nuances of scribble
raising talk to the loft of nonsense

outwardly aimless space is not lost
on one hand
futile behind phoney fingers
tinged with cheat

the gaps between smooth [[[[]]]] flat [[[[]]]] support
widely unknown

… on the receiving end

scribbling “rcsao lowber dammd a pialn”
behind a hand, you complement the travellers who accompany
your delay
, tolerant (not really)
, postponable (always)
, persevering (reallways)

… as yet unfounded

the ground itself is less proven than we think, at a time when we walk two steps further than is necessary to reach the high plateau, to be confronted with a table for consolation, around which, from the beginning, there were four of us

one is on the receiving end, whose natural response, for the time being, is to conceal abilities;

the second, tirelessly perseveres in the name of movement

the third, makes equal by weighing all possibilities

and finally the fourth, when liberated from obligations, quietly follows all inclinations

… just about everything

is mine to hear from this view of ‘somewhere’, itself a chance thrown to opportunity’s casual high, that slightly traceable leaching of glow -

what still escapes her is set firmly in borrowed polish, the gloss of another, rapidly seized upon in a glance

charging wildly down slopes (that allow for no faltering in the nip of snap decision)

at the very edge of calculation, rises a collection point for clues, as yet unfounded

angeregt durch zwischenspurt - short burst/singing

... or sounds as if

"... klingt als ob

du noch irgendwo hingehen könntest, wo unser „gemäßigt glühender Rebell“ ein wenig seichten Eifer erkennen läßt für's Anhalten auf Leuchtreklamen, und doch noch dem Drögen, das schon an dir leckt, entkommst, und auf die Schnelle von der Tünche zum Abhängen und dem Augengeklimper für müde Ohren kommst, schizophren wie halt alles an der Geschichte."

thanks to Sumuze

... which steps me to say: sounds as if

on translating all sides of the story, our rebel, now glowing temperately, reveals, for clues, the light in nevertheless, or in spite of the clues, light reveals her still escapes, which already leak in you or lick at you, on the quickness slopes that snap just about everything

... sounds as if

there is somewhere to go, for our “muffle fervent rebel” vaguely expressing unconventional zeal for

thumbing a lift on tell-tale signs, scampering from a moreish stupor, taking a cut of whitewash to the dawdling hour and clapping eyes on tired ears, schizophrenic on all sides of the story

… of all time

the greatest recurrence of all time
is the dodged pitfall:
a sour-grape say

instead of an unmistakable direction, all the time taking the greatest mistake back to its origins in wrongly taking, or carrying a mis to a shut-eyed bearing

on the way to becoming a muffle fervent rebel presenting a portfolio of sound

… in preparation

[unmistakably;mingle;potent;and;and;the;angular;recurrence;a;stepping-
in;]

an unmistakably potent recurrence
steps in
at an angle to ‘and’
the greatest mingle of all time

… as dwindle knows

pining is an unfulfilled art
prolonged to epic length -

shy away, if you can -

or flounder, with volumes undeclared –

blank page = []

then again, gather up in preparation:

unmistakably;
mingle;
potent;
and; and; the;
angular; recurrence;
a;
stepping-in;

down pens (returns, rebounds and other hesitancies)

“…this page turned its back…”

(if you remember) and is now purposely closed – awaiting prise

(out of bounce
from clog commotion
obstructing regain… )

to salvage what might be there, that is all, nothing spectacular or ground-breakingly radical, just there: in or at that place, where you will find no-one exclusively paying attention to ahem. And in the case of every or any who, there are unrealised exchanges to be had, it’s all a matter of time, as dwindle knows.

do

from the word ‘go’
comes a sieve chartered for Bygones
by Bygones: “go through you hot-headed pastists,
boot-licking yesterday for a taste of ‘I told you so’ ”

embarking on idle
my up-to-the-minute fad
I stay neck-and-neck with myself

while they say: “what have you done donedonedonedonedone?”

missing in inaction

admitting
the stilled throat as clearing, before announcing oasis
that has waited out impersonation
where nobody would guess, even accidentally,
that I seeks I seeks I

as keepsake opening the word again
to a panorama safeguarding hiatus

a reinforced lack
which in this case proves the most positive of deficiencies