There is absolutely nothing more important than being alive. Than this journey of discovering what it is to be alive. Then sitting in wonder and awe at the existence that you are. Than being present with this unending, ineffable presence that surrounds, sustains and plays joyfully with your strange bunch of cells.


nothing and everything and everything again. the soul of your soul of your soul exists not merely within your body, but within every cell that bounces between this jumble of consciousness and the huge vast breath of the breadth of the universe that spreads expands like herculean lungs and sends shivers down the silvery spines of all that stands, shouts, reaches towards the beginning and the end and the ultimate, unending union we are, have and have been. we are the reaching. the unending feeling. we are the nonsense mongery. the word beyond all the words. the trust beyond all truths.

we are rooted, we are flying we are fleeting and we are everything and nothing. we are hungry and we are raining like every last word we are. listen to the words, to the intention, to the direction of directionless floating and flopping.


don’t you know what you are? don’t you know what great rivers run through your blood? don’t you feel the quake inside your shaking underside as the mouth of the moon touches your silver sweet skin? don’t you remember the womb of words that pushed you through the branches of your limbs and lingering soft smiling secretions of sound. the great yalp that crashed down around you as your tore your spirit out of the trees, ripped your heart out of the sleeves of meadows and surrendered your infinity to the new voice of temporal time? don’t you enjoy the tick of the clock as it bounces around your brain, making shapes out of sand and clods of clay and creation? don’t you want to feel the furnace of boiling, building blocks of new thought sandwiching your skin between the ground beneath your feet and the grounded earth laying flat and foundational inside your great hurricane of a body? don’t you feel the sides of your eyes crack open when the light filters through the sound of morning? don’t you feel every inch of your knowledge crawl towards your flesh like a spiderweb of screeching and searching and seething? doesn’t your blood turn milky and wet when you hear the echo of your voice hitting pavement…the sheer weight of being a sound? don’t you radiate through your ribcage every time time leans over to give you a kiss- to force your head back into the hurricane of being powerless to the power of poetry, prose and the perfection of being part of a part of a particle of the sun. don’t you ache for the quaking, quivering voice of love to rush through your spinal cord of connection and creation? don’t you WANT to be ALIVE? burning and breaking and seething and tasting and twisting and twirling down the tongue of time? don’t you WANT to feel the want to want anything at all? to desire to dream to pulse to devastate to be laying in the middle of the street covered in bloody ruin and disastrous, disgusting truth? to taste with your whole stream of wind? don’t you want to do ANYTHING at all for any reason at all? don’t you want to be infinite?

find, follow, and EXPLODE.


I live on Earth at present, and I don’t know what I am.
I know that I am not
a category. I am not
a thing — a noun.
I seem to be a verb, an evolutionary process — an
integral function of
the universe.


Only on condition of a radical widening of definition will it be possible for art and activities related to art to provide evidence that art is now the only evolutionary-revolutionary power…to dismantle in order to build a social organism as a work of art.


As our minds will attain the non-linear associative powers that will do away with the static mold of analog information we will finally break through the speed barrier of thought.

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