The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


moss textures from the atoll package.
moss is neither volume nor surface; maximal and exquisite, fondling earth
or bark or stone, it portends maternal fecundity, Julu Twine murmuring in
her sleep.
moss is temperate, comforting, meandering lazily among ants and lichen.
so many microbes, so much going on, in a pillow of soft and entrancing
moss in air, tendrils floating, almost, but not quite, hanging.
moss of mist, mist-moss, the very depth of organism!
neither object nor clothing surface lovely Julu Twine!
Julu Twine inhabits moss creatures, lichen, air-plankton creatures,
misted, glowing, submerged, subterranean, in the midst of quiet winds.
moss softens what was hard, blurs what was defined, obscures what was
clear, colors what was transparent, warms what was cool, hugs and delights
in stone and earth, embraces bark - yes, mist-creatures, the slightest of
moss is always an ellipsis, speaking of moss is memory of moss.
even in front of one, moss is a memory, close to disappearance,
close to disappearance, closed to disappearance.
moss is open and closed, closed and open - look, it's almost forgotten!
the sward, mobile and translucent; Julu says more organism! more organism!
Julu Twine separates hirself from moss and memory, lichen and bark, air
and water and earth. But moss separates itself as well; equivalence
tunnels through equivalence; moss and Julu Twine emerge; here's where
inscription starts and falters! moss jpg series

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