The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

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a few moments of lucidity. in creation, the ceiling is the floor, creating
addiction, creative, just return to comfort-space, i won't die. of minds,
almost thudding against the mind, creation. i can work and fall, far from
and hold the ceiling of my this is my world, created by the smallest of
and windows. creation codeine this creation of a matrix of wonder-thought.
breathing is the struggle of creation in this and every other room. broken
brilliant creation. i cannot structure. that, i create nets, mesh, mind.
broken joy. inscribing here, creating eyes closed, it is all codeine of
comfort healed by codeine healing fevers. holding to the flow climbs all
create today. the the walls and the written codeine pills. trembling, i
creates structures, stops leaks. familiar over structure, structure holds,
creating, two small pills, two eyes, feverish, the glance. so inside. no
delirious. death creates what codeine pills, their chemistries. one lives
depression. world, family, create world, old friends, reaching beyond
doors, codeine of the doors grapples. i take tiny friendship-pills and the
floor the ceiling, codeine. headaches, our creation, what the chemistry
for you, swallow, create the reach myself, i know my familiar, inhabiting
old friends, here, which create old familiar world. two what shall i reach
the bleary world created by says and does. not muted pain, in dull and
this alleviates fevers, so my their chemistries, of white blank itself,
your creation, none at all, just

breathing is the struggle of creation in this and every other room.
codeine of the walls and doors, codeine of the doors and windows.
creation climbs all over structure, structure holds, delirious.
death creates what broken comfort healed by codeine healing fevers.
holding to the flow almost thudding against the mind, creation.
i can work and fall, far from muted pain, in dull and brilliant creation.
i cannot reach myself, i know that, i create nets, mesh, grapples.
i take tiny friendship-pills and create a few moments of lucidity.
in creation, the ceiling is the floor, the floor the ceiling, codeine.
inhabiting the bleary world created by codeine broken joy.
inscribing here, creating eyes closed, it is all inside.
no headaches, our creation, what the chemistry says and does.
not addiction, creative, just return to comfort-space, i won't die.
of minds, their chemistries, of white blank pills, their chemistries.
one lives here, creating, two small pills, two eyes, feverish, the glance.
so familiar this creation of a matrix of wonder-thought.
so my old friends, what shall i create today.
the world, old friends, reaching beyond itself, creating mind.
this alleviates fevers, creates structures, stops leaks.
this is my world, created by the smallest of the written codeine pills.
trembling, i reach for you, swallow, create the old familiar world.
two codeine which create and hold the ceiling of my depression.
world, family, my familiar, your creation, none at all, just structure.


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