.

When Im consumed by sleeplessness I imagine myself to be moving through a hall, I start with an office or hospital but that feels bureaucratic and hellish. I try to let my mind find something peaceful and removed from Man. I end up cruising down a dirt path with a canopy formed by parallel rows of large trees on each side. Somehow I know this to be a long driveway for some kind of English manor. I dont think I?ve ever been to a manor. What I?m picturing is a caricature that is insulting to beauty. Its like the house in the movie Bridesmaids. The main character's best friend is marrying someone very rich. She pulls up to the gate of where the engagement party is supposed to be happening in her shitty car thats a couple decades old. Right away she is given pink lemonade in a glass with a straw and is asked to get out of her car, because there is valet and its part of the party experience for her to get on the back of a white horse and drink out of the glass with pink lemonade all the way down this construction of trees in order to get to the party. Picturing this is not helping me on my path to fall asleep and imagine myself seeing past lives?I need something that doesn?t feel like a product of internalized bullshit. I settle on a beach cave. Rocks are outside of time. The beach caves aren?t really caves because there is light flowing through them, but from certain angles all around me is rock, with only maybe one or two openings ahead. After some time following the cave-like rocks along the beach, I find myself positioned to either turn back to the last place I was able to walk freely into the cave, or to make myself quite small and crawl through a oval shaped window cut out by a millennia of crashing waves. As I make my way towards the small opening in the rock, the sunlight shining through it gets caught in my eyes and everything becomes too bright to see. I?ve made it through the hall.

and I hear the word corm:

a becoming,

this corm is flat and doesnt smell like anything ; -/

!

Typical Corn-shucking day, 1939 (Library of Congress)

And in every kernel is the architecture of the corn

Figure: Quercus Robur English Oak

the sound?s very thick leaf fell and is with the bottom         still

Forming a fabric

Tiny black bug on thin fabric

dangling at the edges of the weave is the potential for its unravelling

overflowing - Paper Towel basket weaved into the continuity, the These Come From Trees!

Bright Sunned me on the grass earlier

the fabric covering me from itching legs

and

the way         2                The Worm?s tunnels, The Trees, The pipes to the pool

Why can?t i drink the pool?

Thinking on the highway

our mutual enemy

Hears us laughing at

the way

the rushing happens

As long as locks keep taking

White pigeons look like they?re rushing

landed on the smog resistant shrub, a bramble patch swollen by power

She thinks

time = sun

Asking for you:

Iam curious