Thanks to Curate for posting “Now I ask Myself.” I’d like to think it’s a reply to my reply, but I’m not sure if that’s what it is, exactly…

Reply to  “Ur Gnomics” by Matt Hill, from Parataxis.

1.

Buddha / Heraclitus

contemporaneously wondered about

being, or some such shit. Right, the stuff

under our feet. No, stuff we’re made of.

Stuff ever changing. It’s all in yr

          comix. I like the tangled-up

          part. Can you blame me?

Disporting in the woods, they

lose their way, and forget

                   the dispute. Something

magical out there at the horizon —

let’s eat it.

going somewhere: reply to waste management, marina, ca

transparency

a text over lay

particles lit

intersection

fallen pieces, 

                    a name  a   window   into  allegories  of  bodies

                     intent on strategies,     dissembling the solids

                     ”reality”

Am I polytextual? A serious question

if you are haunted. 

phrases call out. They

are many.

They even

provide comfort

but

not for long.

Recalled, rehearsed

over and over again.

“Prepare to do

battle. ” So I ask myself —

Would it have come up

if I hadn’t read this book,

my boundaries

undone with a kiss (and

another book)?

“These things

frequently gather

and disperse. One word

so easily borders

upon another.” Did I

say that?  

Other books are

“speaking”

to this book;

it’s getting noisy in here. Is this

a book?

The spines, side by side.

~~~~

Can I help it if “dominance,”

keeps inserting itself between pages?

For example, there are

interviews. The C___’s

lack of vanilla. Sawing

the wo-

man in half

Filipina vampires (no legs)

their hunger for

gravity

(read: texts? more than one?)

“at the edge of the plural, almost raveling.”

self’s frayed ends

                        if only

you (they) knew

             how easily it

 slips

imagine your self

a doll, perpetually

five. Repeating

motions, same flicker

of bright eyes looking left, right. She is afraid of dolls.

What does she see, looking into the mirror?

                                            If

                                            All zombie

                                            encounters are

                                            little deaths

                                            then

Roy Baty

slowly

winding

down                          

          is

                an epic

love?                                       

your very own

personalized

zombie

koan:

whose teeth are these?