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Saturday, 23 May 2020

Partial Self-Portrait 24/03/2020

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lbrmtVHtuLw&t=2s

Implicate Explicate

An unfolding bird from 
curling forces flittering 
interplay infinity,
straining against 
enfolding, struggling and 
soaring amidst. 



Brindle greyhound 
explicating full stretch,
speed, a part of the air 
sucked, inside, streak 
stretched through
seconds, an 
epoch, through 
green blades, 
squirrel particles, 
traffic waves,
vegetal growth 
through decades. 
Squirrel reflecting
darting across brainfold,
brightfold, dimfold 
vague, image upon image.  




Bipedal moving 
smearing too
through seconds,
the epoch, through 
green blades, 
traffic waves,
a different trajectory, 
out of an other trail
implicated infinite 
complex folding
opening from known
and unknown; an 
implicit near-infinite 
complexity,
cultural dragging
in-forming muscle 
movement, ex-
pressing specific 
negotiations,
actualisations.




A head is there, 
Palaeolithic, 
expressive, worlding,
always opening but
tied in, 
down, crippled 
and knotted. A body 
captured, folds of 
matter and memory, 
bright images accrued
for a master of surplus;  
social ovens glowing
through chords 
entwined and binding. 



Fed for work
producing a store,
breathing with shining
green air, silver sky,
caught, in a field;
lungs aching; 
hands and arms 
registering a rapid 
sweep through mild
resistance. 
Tendrils of 
luminescent joy 
unfolding 
with a soft
diffusion of 
wheaten grass
scent particles 
alive, lusting
and hands  
swapping 
goods directly; 
an image of 
running across a 
distant line.



Rent is due, a 
summer scenting,
morning dirt; 
fire lighting.  
Rent rises
through strata, 
inscribing in
backflesh 
insisting power, 
carrying between huts, 
with cars and 
buses along
Wandsworth Road
past a chicken shop, a 
station, scored into the 
flesh of a 
disintegrating 
body,  a disparate 
urban morning, 
alongside a muddy
flow through inter
sections, early 
sunlight, a scent of  
blood and dirt and 
                         smoke.


Rent: always 
due for 10,000 
years, every
thing shifting
around  it,  
a million flows, 
a  million rivers of 
carbon monoxide, 
maintaining a general 
inability to just  
stretch, to unfold 
beyond basic 
configurations; 
pools forming,
lakes, seas, 
oceans congealing, 
an embarrassment of 
capture. They’re rubbing 
grainy dirt 
absently 
between fingers 
and birdsong
is regardless. 
Dirt is escaping 
them, like chilling, 
singing light.





Plate glass 
unfolding with wood, 
bricks and 
adjacent apparent 
emptiness,
dozens of shoes, 
boots unfolding, 
stacked behind, 
explicating as
there is passing, 
bearing down;
Keys Cut; 
blank sky 
breaking open, 
a squinting past  
piles of boots;
lit by shining 
through motes; 
            standing 
with crops, 
sky weighing
back of the eyes, 
itching bone marrow,
pine needles
sent through veins; 
vague associations
with a wyrded wall,
invisible, untouchable, 
knotting in         
                     breaking 
a vital circuit,
intersectons, 
blocking light 
through a  
       claiming of,
            capturing of
                       time.


In a life They capture 
They capture 
produce, symbols, 
They capture 
dreams They capture 
aesthetic perception, 
shape it; deny it - They 
             knot minds, Man 
places polished 
glass between 
fingertips and 
ears of wheat 
They’re proscribing certain 
names and prescribing  
others and Man is 
making judgements 
 - We police the models -
They insist on dead weight & 
Man is making 
full use of it
pressing down 
hard and pressing 
insistently; 
pressing down,
turning through a 
violent smear of 
primary colours 
We press  
                press down 
                                     press out 
violently eradicating 
gestural nuance, any 
leading edge of 
grinning clarity;
trudging 
               along grass path,
shuffling  
               along mud track half-packed,
moving with a gait of aggressive refusal
               along interlocked concrete slabs
and in and 
out of varieties of 
traffic, living &
not living &
there is some 
escaping
entwining with a 
blood supply of capture;   
the mild air 
shakes with desire, 
the sound of traffic and 
aircraft relaxes,
this person needs a 
drink 
                         but a moment of quiet
sovereignty is, also,
Their moment 
captured and 
transformed, 
clamping the 
base of a 
skull and 
pinning a life to a 
stiffening ocean
rolling and unrolling, 
judged according 
                          to Man. 



Along with Wandsworth Road, 
reaping toxins, reveries colonised,
Palaeolithic conditions echoing 
imperceptible  unrecognisable,
changed utterly & echoing,
each step explicit, implicit. 




Domed huts, all 
wood, straw and bones: 
one
       is
            a
                 store. 
A city of a few dozen, 
a vertical stream
of blue authority 
flowing up out
of a centring function
they bring in wheat
to feed the builders.

Light laying across brown
hairs from a strong, dirty arm.  




An unfolding of light, of
sight, of a gently floating insect, 
rapidly implicating and 
explicating one another with
unresting quietening.



Early light calling them to work,
laying, gently, across their work,
unfolding their work within the moments
(of low surrender) inside soft pale gold 
to be captured and kept in the store:
always already captured before cutting;
their muscles and a pounding heart 
captured & caged & wealth 
extracted by The Infinite Eye; The 
Mighty Fist and Foot; The Chief on
High - painting his mighty shadow along
the Wandsorth Road - They; He; the chief, 
he’s an old bastard but still he comes down, 
a kenotic invasion, infecting their assumptions, 
capturing desires, colonising dreams, them and 
they watch themselves, their own cop and priest
in an always captured field, on the pavement 
outside the chicken shop inside the traffic
waves, unfolding through sunlight, the popping
joy of living, into this energy; into a cage.  



They’re flickering, living crystals,
manifold across a life’s surface a
surface of a moment a surface 
of a century and an eon, a cloud
and a scent of wet dog, a feeling of
a reality of constraint, streak of 
light down a morning wall, 
glimmer in a sky, a video game, 
a smell of fried chicken, 
a drifting of thought and a 
clear, hard and sure idea lost,
unfolding, folding, unfolding
entangled and infected by power
folding 
             unfolding
                              folding 

Thursday, 25 July 2019

Material Wriggling - full text



Material Wriggling

Light walking a shining pearlised
sheer sheet, glass damage &
irrelevant intent skimming across a 
density of insufficient resistance;
an increasing cold red mid-range
whining of contemplative satisfaction 
plus a four-dimensional ring of
anxiety over unmade travel arrangements
drifting over slowly wriggling legs 
sticking out of a bin, feet in wet bed socks -
opening out a damp and shivering rent
in soft blue-grey air, self-care and self-
identity are tending to shimmer from the 
edge and then inwards - and then out, 
and, suffused with lust, the bright light
is full of saliva and electrical muscular impulses. 




Skin greasing dirt onto paint: a dull
smear, a shining through a diamond-
hard temporal absolute, run through 
with lurid impossible colour, infinitely 
parting with Planck-length cracking,
a movement to alpha centauri via every 
route along and out of the way; a fingernail 
scraping away a layer of skin inside a 
limitless ricocheting hail of waves/
particles/strings and a door swinging
through blocking and unblocking,
a dull shine passing back and 
forth across a satin surface, dimmed 
slightly briefly every apex, an interference of 
dirt greased by skin onto paint. 




Across a red brick wall a little winter light will 
fall successfully, wriggling to it in many billions,
processing the problem of a world like a 
universe in which it exists. A problem that 
subsists. A brief morning folding onto a past morning 
and a sharper, harder light. And when light lifts away
and darkness rises from the asphalt and pavements,
bringing coolness and the scent of living 
flesh, an undulating and a fizzing starts that is
loving every connective glance of a 
living collective joy in a heart of matter, a
rapid gesture of an appendage that draws through
another space, another substance and every
molecule of every mode, a gesture of defiant joy. 




A steel spring daylight soft in a corner.  Breathing, dim. 
A darkness smudging up white tiles glowing in 
and out, 
spun, astronomically, across glazed surfaces 
drifting shine drifting daily refreshed, slow under a rapid 
impact of drops of water penetrated by sharding  light,
splinters sheering off & imaging a window and dim 
shimmering. 
A body shifting through intersecting events, 
an obscure blurring across an individuation of an eon
and sharp inside a hour. 
A figure flickering across a million retinas. 
A gigantic torso eternally patterned with lichen,
suddenly crumbling across a millennium into dust and sand. 



A print of paint obscured by a  brightness bouncing 

There is a faint birdsound and a quietness in distanced cacophony 
but impressing in a body is silence 

An obscuring paint print brightness bouncing through and
a wind, a slight and light wind in pale sunlight
oddly dreaming, slightly,  curling up and becoming 
painlessly torn, exhilarating, ripped and new-scattered -
demon love outside any kind of eyesight, pulling 
away for a pan-plane galvanising joy by ugly shock. 




A plunging 
eyeblink 
exhausting 
a rain 
a crowd
a sea 
a city 
and a light 
that ricochets 
                between it,
a shuffling 
movement 
across 
a crowd 
a blood 
vessel 
spinning through 
a body; 
a dancing of 
energy through 
energy, waves 
and rippling 
inside 
rippling 
and waves, 
resonating 
forces and 
material 
shimmering



Entwining shuddering sound waving across red and gold air sillage, 
a tapping across a dirty wooden surface, splashing dark & sticky
thrilling liquid skin in rhythm and in sync, air pressure falling, 
high night air ringing warmly and crackling alongside street lamp halos,
a speck within a speck turning and shining at a periphery of a 
framing cut, evanescent, buzzing, burning, convulsions. 



Skin whispering inside a whirling of a variation of engines and a
depth of shining through darkness/
         moving always in process and already begun, skin whispering
through, like moving through traffic, a whirling of various engine
noises, a body of these several durations intersecting as a 
multiple one, this engine plus that one and that one plus an other and
always including this one, that one and an other plus a whispering of
skin and a depth of beauty of a shining through darkness. 



A street is vibrating and reflecting itself as waves are 
passing always through it, vibrating as they go and 
turning in the structure of concrete, infinite, complex and 
orchestrating itself vibrating vastly, anarchist, a music of  
spheres in a hair follicle on a dog’s back in a street at
seven pm, darkness full of colour and light, in April this year.  

Friday, 8 March 2019

Material Wriggling (so far)

Light walking a shining pearlised
sheer sheet, glass damage &
irrelevant intent skimming across a 
density of insufficient resistance;
an increasing cold red mid-range
whining of contemplative satisfaction 
plus a four-dimensional ring of
anxiety over unmade travel arrangements
drifting over slowly wriggling legs 
sticking out of a bin, feet in wet bed socks -
opening out a damp and shivering rent
in soft blue-grey air, self-care and self-
identity are tending to shimmer from the 
edge and then inwards - and then out, 
and, suffused with lust, the bright light
is full of saliva and electrical muscular impulses. 




Skin greasing dirt onto paint: a dull
smear, a shining through a diamond-
hard temporal absolute, run through 
with lurid impossible colour, infinitely 
parting with Planck-length cracking,
a movement to alpha centauri via every 
route along and out of the way; a fingernail 
scraping away a layer of skin inside a 
limitless ricocheting hail of waves/
particles/strings and a door swingiing
through blocking and unblocking,
a dull shine passing back and 
forth across a satin surface, dimmed 
slightly briefly every apex, an interference of 
dirt greased by skin onto paint. 




Across a red brick wall a little winter light will 
fall successfully, wriggling to it in many billions,
processing the problem of a world like a 
universe in which it exists. A problem that 
subsists. A brief morning folding onto a past morning 
and a sharper, harder light. And when light lifts away
and darkness rises from the asphalt and pavements,
bringing coolness and the scent of living 
flesh, an undulating and a fizzing starts that is
loving every connective glance of a 
living collective joy in a heart of matter, a
rapid gesture of an appendage that draws through
another space, another substance and every
molecule of every mode, a gesture of defiant joy.