The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

familiar wood

waves let your loves blossom, you fools, recording dictagraph sounds. (She
runs to find a better vantage point.) (A man walks into ghost town with
fungus.) 2 scatological terms reveal her bare thighs selfishness the magic
of alarms sound in a workshop while a family watches her with long pointed
claws. They're frightened by the sound, a girl's bare buttocks make water,
she deserves to listen to a loud sound. A dog urinates on a young woman.
Columbus: you'd hear the sound of chain-mail rustled against willows and
poem into sound, for which it materializes, that is, fetishizes, placing
nadir of bellowing sound, perversions of word and sentence and boys and
men. The basement sound of dharmata, like a thousand thunderclaps
simultaneously. This is the natural sound of your own dharmata, so do not
be afraid or bewildered - you have no physical body of flesh and blood, so
whatever sounds, colors; trusting in the sound of your words I reach out
and touch the sound of your words - she has murdered the boys while they
are asleep; she has murdered the family which makes sound; she makes
sound; she kills a dog.
                    you must be sound asleep. A boy and his dog stood and
we forget the sound of laughter and the pain of the legs' hinge, skin/nn
half what might have seemed unsound; i wept - she got out with me. Grunts
and moaning clatter to the floor of the bathroom; you might see her
disappear for a moment, hear the sound of motion, the sound bytes - i
generate nothing but sound, no appearance, no twists and turns, only
tatters. When I speak, my voice sleeps. I churn out sounds. She exclaims,
"Netsex sounds ....  aaaaaaaaaaahhhhhhhhhhhhhh" He says "you sound
unconvinced."