The weather is thick, chirps and squeaks from Japan.
All the night, the insects gurgle. Listened to Schimpfluch-Commune Int. this evening
in headphones, from the inside. Eyes go funny with such lunacy, wonderful sounds
by Eb.er and crew make for an enchanting Monday evening meditation experience.
Also, this evening, old noise from Emil Beaulieau as he ravaged the Relapse records catalog.
Such a delightful way to start the week.

Twitter is only a heartbeat away:
Eyeslit-Paradisial Twitter

Wind scatter blown from trees far away from here fall at my feet.
I link myself to the apple garden, to the oasis, that
warmth of fresh beginnings and the pleasure of subtleties once felt.
How the tree in the field now shines, the vast field as
large as a lake, a solid green lake.

rumble tumble plane-train to
the suburbs. a taxi in Japanese.
Second day, sleep without food.
Sudden urge to rearrange the furniture.

orange night mucous
neon pink glow of skin alight and
smiling under the haze of that orange night.

the electro-lights, under the glimmering simmer of summer
unto roads paved black, a light black.
shiver, she shivers, teeth clicking, clattering.
flesh steaming orange night mucous
neon pink alights the depths of the woods.
this night.

heartfelt-bloodlet in the afterglow of the afternoon.
Shivering slivers of slime sparkle in the sunshine. Yet,
a collection of spines rattle idly by the doorway, the entrance.
Someone dropped lint, pulled lint, rather scattering the ashes
of a pocket in the mezzanine. This, my love, my forgotten one,
this is how I tremble.

last night, the moon full peeked out from behind a splatter of clouds. the water in the afternoon, the pontoon and conversation. faces of old, perhaps ten years, aging gracefully. you sat quietly for some hours trying to feel yourself in the space of the day. a conversation in Japanese and, again, the cool calm surround of the lake. the sun disappeared and a black zone of summer arose through the woods.