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MINIMUM INVENTORY OF ENCLOSED


the ambiguous path of light each day wonder.
fire husky fever.
the dry bed of the breath, the breath of fire invincible.
exhausting the futility of any note.
my life in the bush of ghosts.
the mission of a taciturn mother.
the morning, an archipelago of music and milk.
dripping flower life behind the window.
insects in a jar.
wandering bewildered wolves spotted Rivalta.
wave of bread one body of thought.
as anything can be devilishly steep.
entropy, the desire, the thirst, the compulsion to repeat.
and unable to stop this pencil

(EAQUARTETT listening to the music of a ship without a rudder, visions in the ice)

(myspace.com / thegrimorchestra)

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DERIVE RHETORIC

the ship sank in the immense white Caucasian afternoon, just when the clock sounded the hour of the day.
sailors saw feverish light traps in the air on, and feelings of primitive landscape, where sculpture of the man was yet to come, even inert matter.
tried last breath in the light of the sad look kinematically cormorant, nell'orma ephemeral dolphin, illusion property of a moment made of water.

the embrace of her ocean, inevitable, and deep sea where the light comes every 10,000 years.
fish moth, giant squid, krill, whales, perhaps.
all fauna silent negligence.

what is left behind?
tracks in the forest, a crumpled hat, a nail with soap, only a word made of salt.
E 'the bread of the beggars, the garment of the saints in the mud, their noble, memorable fall.

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EU ME Lembra

Saturday morning in the center, as for years, do not even remember quanti.Il usual path, the same sense of quiet remission, the same front edicola.Lì C, which yesterday we were at dinner to celebrate the 45 and 32 of the pappus alessandro.L 'I have known more than 10 years ago, C. The first time I saw him was hidden in the trunk of a car in front of the Be Bop a canna.All to roll' era was an enthusiastic, smoking gave me low pressure and impressions and I enjoyed a high sacco.Parlammo jazz of Steve Coleman all evening.

Steve Coleman made me feel for the first time the red, the album "The tao of mad phat."
A mailbox on his gray one, and I remember well a time when the music seems to stumble, slow down by mistake and then miraculously return to the same, black, geometric fury.
Or that time when we came back from Bologna, Rome and I am the red, and light in disbelief after the storm that flooded the highway we heard a loud "Three Days" by Jane's Addiction.
I could go on, I like to remember.

Eu me Lembra mean I remember in Portuguese.

C is 20 years older than me but then he had an energy that I felt very fresh, and began a friendship that lasts ancora.La second time I met him I was just on a Saturday, in the center, and asked me if I wanted to do a ride in the mountains with lui.Sì, I say, with the piacere.Andammo Cerreto, I think, and walk after a little while provided me with great nonchalance a quarter of the trip, which I accepted willingly, being both a happy, unconscious entusiasta.Da then the experiences were different in the mountains, until we went with two other friends in the U.S. and California in the Sierra eighth day of trekking I froze for a whiplash bastardo.Eravamo two days' journey from civilization, Simon and Jim went to warn the Rangers guarding (accomplices marmots) and lakes that do not explode with the phone incendi.Loro satellite called in the valley and-hey presto-a helicopter arrived to prendermi.Non was not bad, at least I have something strange to tell.
Then one time we went to the fields of Sara and there was a pregnant mare morta.Avevamo taken of mushrooms, and that scene made me very impressed.
Only after he knew it was an omen of something about to happen.

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DADA # 2 (old one)

of Shanghai looks.

must continually

start from the end.

Oh, yes.


1959, Sun Ra, the Cold War.

Sphinxes upside down.

The fear is there.

A large bundle wrapped in red paper.

winner is the first

the exit.

Tricks of radiance

inner balance.

The right cheek of the city.

What do you know?

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"Squatting on old bones, excrement and rusty iron, in a white blaze of heat, a landscape full of idiots bare stretches to the horizon.
Absolute silence the speech centers are destroyed - with the exception of a crackling of sparks and the popping of singed flesh while applying electrodes along the spinal column.
A white smoke of burning flesh is suspended in the air still.
A group of children tied to a pole an idiot with barbed wire, has lit a fire between her legs and looks on with curiosity bestial as the flames lick the meat cosce.La leaps into the fire like an insect dying .

p.36, Naked Lunch, William Burroughs

sound a little nasty.