2005-10-15 - 6:54 p.m.
positron emission
the night is thick with both the meat of eyeballs and the thick cross hatching of observation.
the space between things has not been seen, the cutting length of your gaze emerging from the light bath, has crossed and re-crossed itself, stitching dark from strands of light. the sheltering pause has limited itself. the flotation of morning, reaching a boiling point only in dark, has crossed over into itself in a non-delineated motion.
the moon could have been an eye if it too was meat and would burst under the same pressure. the tongueing forks of flame have never melted anything like what they are melting now. the thick hooves pitted with gravity and starlight pound and logic departs ungraciously. your night has become a question and violence seems to grow inevitably from this uncertainty, but the positron emission continues. light, a flux, passes through you and boils you. you are melting like an ice cube in a kiln.
hesitance expresses itself through this. a decision not made is a lit stick of dynamite. the earth and stone are transparent to your sleeping eye.
