I made fresh pasta with hand cut veg.
I ate ice cream instead
I put on the new season of stranger things.
I fell into a sugar sleep.
I dreamt I was your dream.
Like young skin
You are smooth
Like young skin.
It is this present, separating the two.
Coarse still.
Contained infinitely
Keeps
You always new.
Presently
So í present me as í will and wilt be.
Your grains grew.
Became rough?
Hard to go against.
A backwards shove.
A cat pet the wrong way.
Your backwards glance, surreptitiously noticed.
I told you
I pay attention to your punctution.
Paints dried as fast as grass grew.
But, never as fast as the weather changed.
Everything happened so quickly
In slowness.
Living with punctuated equilibrium ages me in bursts.
The course grain leaves red rubs on skin like indian burns from childhood.
Asked for and still bemoaned.
Like saying: I miss you.
Dreamed
I ran with you in dreams last night.
There was a small bit of lace hiding a bit of my clavicle.
When you lifted it
The notation for
a song was below.
Then I remembered
The lyrics.
“Oh yeah.
I wrote this for you
Before we met.”
Another start
Splash the water on your face and remove the split of confusion.
Spit out last night’s sleepy breath.
Open wide into the mirror
Let it swallow all of you into today.
You reveal
You reveal.
Why i call you a revelator.
The revelation, you dummy, should be your own effing libidic power.
Your blood, smell, adrenaline.
Desire, anticipation,
Your submission is not persuaded.
It is inexorable.
Watch “Lou Reed Ride Into The Sun with Lyrics in Description” on YouTube
The right song for a dexterous night
And for one I think of.
No rights:homage
Thump
The issue is psychic unity of intent?
Can you not see your ally, lily, and enemy
In everybody?
Your lover and your birth
And your death?
Fractitiously cohesive
Paradigmaticly nightmarish.
Delight.
Dining with the whale
The day ran past without a backwards wave.
I found myself, coffee in hand, at four p.m.
Dreams of the red whale re-meander through my mind.
Recall people asking what we do?
You would say: meander, me and her.
I would smile. I would try not to, and I would fail.
I smile right, exactly, now.
The whale was larger than a breadbox
But, smaller than a tidal wave.
Blood red. No variation in shades, as though block colored by a child.
You did not even consider dinner,
the whale said.
I do not want to eat.
Why not?
I don’t know.
Just say you are not hungry.
Watch “Massive Attack feat. Mos Def – I Against I” on YouTube
A diabolical combo.
These are are two of my favorite…
Dig.
Used for good, clean energy boosts.
No rights: homage.
A question I asked in last night’s dream
Would you eat me piecemeal
Or all at once?
Management of expextation.
R.N. looks at me from across the table and grins.
I know the answer.
Watch “Ian Dury & The Blockheads – Peel Session 1977” on YouTube
No rights: pure homage.
A gent friend introduced me to their music a year ago or so.
Do it yourself.
Instantly endeared them to me.
Such a unique, sound from an innovative guy.
Original.
Looks good in denim overalls too .
I look forward to digging into them more.
I’ll Let The Stories Tell You: Parçigal’s rant
i/i
Sweet man, they have been telling our story all along. I’ll tell it to you as I heard it so just sit down and:
“Hear the sad rhyme of how love turned to lust, and lust invigorated love, and love shone brighter for the stain it rose above.” 21
Sugrbeat, it is day one and already are you floating in your peaceful, wet c/sea with “all foolish loves of men” and suddenly you said, “Thither I Fled.”
While later you said “Come hither” to me. And, hither I came.
You later told me, “I followed like a dog…tied by some soft bond of twinning.”
I saw your eye sparkle while you spoke it. I hear you in those moments of desire unexpressed, dear. It made me think the “perfect sage could make the perfect lover.” Singular purposed in their craft as I try to be for mine.
( “Fool! Later on. Not to tell her. Triple fool to fly away.” )
We met because “she read-and saw him but a beardless boy…quite powerless to destroy her life’s long peace; the ten year-walled city,
And then I said, “I think the poem is pretty.”
Howl we endeared “under the dim glory in the shrine of Artemis.” She is ally to me as Aura was to my sister. Do you remember that night we stayed over in a b&b? I told you a filthy version just to try to get rise from your denim, button fly.
“The heart’s pulse quickning; the fear; the increasing ecstasy of this. The foolishness of love”. And, yet, we “give love one chance before its wave retire,” and “Maytime shone in us; with words of art.”
“Unless my Alice be the sea,” you kept repeating.
“As you yield you
To love that is stronger than shame, no music but kisses, that pealed you their paean, proclaim: the sound of the sea is made still
The climax shall come unupbraided, obedient alone to our will.”
” it was impossible that she should come,” you said,
“Over the summer-coloured sea, alone, with love and laughter and tears for me.”
Therefore, not fearing anything, I came; lit my love’s candle at my body’s flame and fought with the fevers now that swell.
From Alice: An Adultery
Watch “Public Image Ltd – Peel Session 1979” on YouTube
No rights, just homage.
Peel Sessions stay on point.
This one is top form.
The bass line and where it sits in the mix. Nice and crisp.
The room sounds spacey.
Off-daze
Hello to this simoon. I slept eons and have been half-awake even longer. Stalks from plant scatterings litter the ground below scales and scaffoldings.
My eyes narrow. Harden.
What did you whisper? What don’t you remember?
Did you intend to forget? It simply sounds like something you’d do, darling.
Out of joint and harmonizing on some strange frequencies.
I remember the steps to the dance, though.
Rather easily.
And a clear recollection of
Anticipating that beat
You always drop.
Knowing
The recapitulation of skipping one step.
On Music: Glass Bead Game: Master Ludi Quote
Music does not consist in those purely intellectual oscillations and figurations which we have abstracted from it.
Its pleasure consists in its sensuous character.
In the outpouring of breath.
In the beating of time.
Certainly, the spirit is the main thing.
The invention of new instruments,
altering old ones.
The introduction of new keys.
New rules, taboos, regarding construction and harmony, are always mere gestures and superficialities, as our the fashions of nations.
-Hermann Hesse
Watch “R.E.M. “Circus Envy” (Live at The Olympia)” on YouTube
No rights, homage.
A 4th of July howl from southern class act punks.
From a car ride: Phoenix to a Grand Canyon
Sun-chapped, vermillion gravel lines the Arizona interstate. The smell of civil anticipation of draught conditions.
De-ride derision. Re-sent. De-ridden. Hostile.
Reproachful.
Regurgitate…come here, baby bird.
Under my wing where the sun does not scream.
Absolution awaits.
Abscond
like wild things run fast.
I run so quickly it looks as though I am lazy.
Because, I smiled all the time, my narrowed eyes confuse.
Rode hard but not to be
Put up wet.
I asked him not to say things that seem to be true.
Show.
A certain gaze becomes requisite.
A dis-focus agile like a cacti forest.
Look for the invisible shrub-brush. The one that may or may not actually be there.
When you see that you do not see it, you will know you’ve got off on
The good foot.
So scratch, scratch pen to paper. Then take tips to keyboard.
Pleas. If you cannot silence your mouth, write it instead. For yourself.
Spit yourself upon the page.
See what floats.
Mercury corresponds here, where air is the element?
Striations of stratifications.
I am not what you expect, because I am not as you’ve known me to be.
Newly transmuted. I let my stomach gnaw on it’s own emptiness.
Acclimation. Deceleration of mass.
A bob becoming weightless, still tethered to a Flagstaff.
Asphalt lanes crisscross terrain like varicose veins.
Little, red blood cell cars traverse. Scrub-brush grows on either side.
Entering Sedona. The elevation changes. Ears pop.
The energy comes on before you fully make it to the valley.
Invigoration as my heart beat hastens, my skin quickens.
I feel my circulation pulsing.
We are told to Be Prepared to Stop.
We prepare.
We are stopped.
My father acclimatizes to the energy but not the dry air.
My sister fidgets with her fingers in her mouth.
My mom crossed and uncrosses her hands. Fingers tapping on top of knuckles.
The four of us seem far too old to be in a car on a road trip. We do not mind.
Joe Cocker. Feeling Alright plays on FM.
Sharp. The energy is sharp. It will hone you.
Make you diabolical, I giggle.
I feel you giggle against my ear. Echoed back to me despite your absence.
Despite your presence on another curve on another side of the world
I magnetize you to my mind’s eye.
There is a church situated in an open expanse. Nothing surrounding on its acre.
There even an atheist might easily see some god.
The orange and red rest easy in my eyes.
Like short pants slung low on hip bones.
Watch “Five Man Army (2012 Mix/Master)” on YouTube
No rights, homage
Triphop flashback,
Trendy Wendy.
I take a small step….
People call me Tricky for a particular reason…
Now whose got the micro-phone?
S/crawled
I found a word on a notecard.
Assoil.
Present it between gritted teeth,
heavy lidded. Pleas
see before my snarl creeps back.
To acquit, absolve.
Solve Loose.
I call this word how we untangle each other.
You are Unmade and in need of collection.
Soft, sweet, slow.
Until inertia overcomes.
A harsh lunar body with love that annihilates
Your self-doubt ,
Ashames with kindness.
Pains with inelegant honesty.
You
Have
My attention and pulse,
sorrell.
Kept with you and resent but a moment ago.
And, I wonder where
we find ourselves
On this reading of what I just write to wrote?
To discern the coefficient of friction.
Re-scribed an umpteenth time.
For your inexorable sea, no doubt,
remains a’wave.
Unyielding. Relentless. Assiduous.
Paramour. Swoon over and give us some room.
Aragon and lavender, salty mists of sea tides
Aroma wafting through the scene.
A contention that new tangential elaboratorations
exert mild pressure.
“You are uncomfortably comfortable,” whispered with gravity.
So came I, cloaked.
Amateur ingenue
Feminine made anew.
I sow.
Sew you a pillow case all the colo(u)rs of Joseph’s coat.
You will dream of Argonauts. You will watch legion run
head first off the cliff.
They seek demise, but you have desire and
A dexterous handle with an au gauche moniker.
There is power in having a title, because to have is
To hold(,) dear.
To become the multitudes contained
within my circles.
The circles I contain.
The circles containing me.
A ruddy red demonstration of diameter.
Obstinte and obdurate at heart
I am a junkyard bitch who sometimes likes to bark.
Your home is no show place, but you are so fine
that lyrics write idylls for you
and scheme to catch just a sight of you
blushing. I’d sooner have you stern
Looking.
Æffect & Cause
The lost cause of
how you used to be?
The wilted cæmellia
tucked behind the hero/ine’s ear?
Wilt
wither and thither.
Return to stasis,
never static, sugarfoot.
But, what you chew up and
cannot swallow
will feed your
root structure.
Poison returns if you
leave it elsewhere.
Sum it up and send it
Back to the earth
Quake for rebirth.
You saw a wryneck
Hum
In shallow waters of a
Good place to be
Candide.
The best of whose
Possible worlds?
It is how you
See the question.
Just glad to hear
The presumption of my
Body is no assumption.
Getting ready
To be fretted
For being willing
To be the bay-at-sea/c.
A cistern formed by basins of shale
Far beneath and beyond
The pale where
Sun is always shadowed
But for somme.
WrittenCasey 