Message-ID: <Pine.NEB.4.58.0311072238400.18456@panix1.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.aol.com>,
"WRYTING-L : Writing and Theory across Disciplines" <WRYTING-L@LISTSERV.UTORONTO.CA>
Subject: trip
Date: Fri, 7 Nov 2003 22:38:47 -0500 (EST)
trip now ill trip to make sense - in the midst of my despair this even. red rum & she was murdered. please peals leaps pales: sleep peels. she'll shell: halls shall fail, waver: of woven vows. "she vowed." this momentum.. now i'll translate to make sense. in the middle of an evening depression, which felt 'even.' murder reverses the drinking of dark rum. etiquette fales, perseveres, fades in transcendence. sleep awakens. she'll work with machines, not in viking halls which already disappear like so many ghosts. promises are woven in speech. inertia drives the sounds, forcing them into words and the semblance of meaning.. __