[NetBehaviour] Clar

Alan Sondheim sondheim at panix.com
Thu Mar 17 01:29:37 CET 2022



This is the closeness of your other

Wed Mar 16 19:04:36 EDT 2022

in the grounds of the sinter an odd smell, were it not for
covid turning the sensorium towards itself, ingesting itself.
your arms. your Arms would have written me. your arms writing
your Writing.one arms, carries arms. arms carrion arms,
derails. inconceivable violence to bodies: the Sinter. the
heat of the bomb, a bomb, a blade, something moving quickly.
amazing how fast the move. the speed of light. its
forsaking.Wed Mar 16 19:29:39 EDT 2022

forsaking of the light. land-granting absolution.
unconsolable, unsolvable. When I die I will eat the Dirt
around my Burial and Emerge. I will do that.Wed Mar 16
19:31:44 EDT 2022

This is the distance of your new Clar

Wed Mar 16 19:04:36 EDT 2022 In the truth of God - within that
- I write: in the Truth of god. What is the same of a child.
What suborns the presence of landscape? The war buries the
surface, sinters the interior. Prescient history turns
into/towards powder, broken DNA.Wed Mar 16 19:07:27 EDT 2022

grown old with every moment. already I work on my thought's
future. To what and where prevail? What lists, what
substitutions? Omissions. We are always omitted from our
afterlives. Already a terrifying sadness, those people in the
theater... Not to go on, continue, is a crime. Our last living
act, a crime. Whose, where: no witness no testimony, not even
a split-second after cessation. Not to abide this, I cannot
abide this, breath sucked out of me, criminality. Our lands
are never ours, never have been ours. Our bodies, theirselves.
/sub return as the dispersal of ash.Wed Mar 16 19:12:14 EDT

molecular skins, broken codes, dead stars, ash, dispersal and
expansion, impossible breath. sound is a bothered wave.i
bleed. i beg you for life. my head at your knees. a little
lower. the floor is my love. the ground is my love. i am never
I. i never will be what i never would have been. look, there
are tears. something patters along the floor, scurries through
the corner of my eye, enters me. what more could be in the
valleys where the guns reach. writing is always an urgency,
mostly unacknowledged. i lay claim. i write _Thus._ thus _I_
write.Wed Mar 16 19:16:16 EDT 2022

our body renews themselves 60 times a second, hexagismal. how
can i think when it is always the Other that declares war? you
turn inside out, don't you? Prevarication! Time is always a
defect in time.Wed Mar 16 19:18:00 EDT 2022

Time is always a Defect. to live is to defect. one Attempts
breath. One, broken up, Breaks up the meeting. The Meeting
comes to an end. The End is the beginning of prevarication. I
say that opportunity knocks one but once. the burial after
that. the smell of burning flesh in the sky, burning bodies
falling through the air.Wed Mar 16 19:20:12 EDT 2022

the fall to the Ground in time. in Time there is the failure
of falling, rise to omnipotent dreams. the Omnipotent dream.
someone is confused, murmuring a name. the Name is withdrawn,
inconceivable. tail end of Withdrawal, scattered flesh, the
bones are eaten. flash Bomb now, up to the sinter.Wed Mar 16
19:22:43 EDT 2022

on the ground there are stories to be old. on the Ground,
something else, as if there were an order or substitute for
perfection. of Perfection it is said, death, while there is
time to say it. as of now, no Time at all. what would have
been a luxury. this abnegates, contradicts, contravenes. what
was said before. what would have been Said.Wed Mar 16 19:25:40
EDT 2022

the derail. a text always off-track, derailed. gone,
forgotten, unburied. the hardest to grasp while there is still
tTime, no Ttrack, derail. no forgotten.Wed Mar 16 19:27:45 EDT

Dear dead dear, please by my Other. please the great
Subtraction. please the Ligament. please the nomenclature. i
dream i am a liquid in a funnel. now there is a _shoulder._ so
thin i disappear. what I did was horrible.Wed Mar 16 19:33:45
EDT 2022

Wed Mar 16 19:33:46 EDT 2022

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