Noting as a frame of flimsy- miss Odysseys

The frame of flimsy courtesies the big nothing like a tooth over a whale hole in the gum that is waiting for a break in orangerinds and peelings of lime green syphilis, on the Mondays after. On Tuesdays the frame will probably fall incomplete over a gap in the consistency of memory in the woman as pink chenille ain’t taffeta to Wednesday. The day after is the one because of the frame of calender days that hold histories as hostage and opened up tomorrow as the time already had. So it was no surprise that the place of broad plains collapsed into shower curtains at the end of the week. That month just gone was conspiratored into peeling the space from culminious cloud and boiling them in the teaming rains of Calcutta. Canada was next. The bears of Nebraska ate looms and sundials for the fame of tea. Grass plains were subverted into algebraic-connotating
-tourist-haven-retirement-parks offering golf and the moment before twelve as a late night movie. The screen was at the same place the table of cornucopias for mouths of fur lined boots at summer camp, in winter ate and ate.

The woman was at first complicated…as one was two-framed compassion. Owing to the small opening her approach was fastened to shape but with intricacies of demeanour the spied line became ousted and the mink was soon on the right track of complete. She began by becoming ever the hero and tights were anointed then annotated. Big muscles rippled. Her bright melancholy was gestulated by her jumping up and down up and down. Up and down was annoyed by the turn-pike complacency of instinct that froze the wipers on the blade…small threads were eyed as cameleers. Never the less she reached the page of Normanby and held the door as wide as Candid, held and lapped-dogged the fold of reams of spun cotton and bodices of nipples. This was quite the reprieve she had wanted now the coursing of the insincere could disclose the merry. The frame held too for a shortened mile and spannered the hope of nincompancy at the belly lie. The tooth lay low and juice flowed down into the crotch seam of curtain at the cloud of the bears eating sunbeams at the table of lights. Sure you could be thought and one had only to say but to see the umbilicus of the date was admission enough. She had arrived at the first frame of flimsy, and she ate and ate and ate.

She who was it became them that was her, the bears were quite popular. Still. In frame was
she who ate custard, was she who ate the dryness in apricots, was she who held protons? was she who laughed smoke. Her past was becoming as the stream of words hemming her footprints. Cups were unlaying. Lift lids spoke…the flimsy was in tarantella a quivering in delight.

up-ending the…
and withdrawing only after the fight. Past portholes of fissure and globules of delight pressing inward, piano stile and an-eye-at-a-time…the serenata as sulphured yellow shine. Each dirge then was transfigured as wine purple. See. A loom is still sorting threading sties of reprieve. Frame. flimsy. Row home a line at a time.


a perambulation ofBlu’
Levina’s ethical relation to alterity
a dialogue (in the making) between self and mine other

blue /blu:/ adj., 1 having a colour like that of a clear blue sky. 2 sad, depressed; (of a state of affairs) gloomy, dismal (feel blue: blue times) 3 indecent, pornographic (a blue film) (blue business) 4 with bluish skin through cold, fear, anger etc. 5 having blue as a distinguishing colour (blue jay) (blue day) -n. 1) a blue colour of pigment ie, blue colour 2) blue cloths or material (dressed in blue) 6 any of the various small blue-coloured butterflies of the family Lycaenidae 7 blue powder used as a laundry powder to whiten laundry…in a dress...in a shirt…blue cuffs, collar blue folds blue sky blue quilt, blue noses blue stockings, 7 blue thumbs, deep holes in the ocean, frames of cyanosis…blue moons blue tunes…, 8 the underneath is blue… …beyond blue…everything empty…blue prose…slang slung…blue thoughts postures gestures blue words pictures…tattoos…love. inside a grove. a groove…faded violet…milk on a lip…a cord, freezing cheeks in …sea-berries, I iris’s, pale moons on nails…of the vein that runs up inside blood now…blue…to the body
9 veils to
heaven is too
blue, blue collection blue love…in relation

itself…palest blue baby blue, light blue, blue, pearl blue, grey, powder blue, azure, bluebell… cerulean, cerulean, cornflower, forget –me-not, lapiz-lazuli, sure. Sapphire blue, skyblue, cobalt copenhagen blue true, ultramarine, deep blue, gentian blue, indigo, perse, royal blue, navy blue-black, navy blue, slate, steel blue, nile blue, saxe blue …prussian…, cyanin, indican, indophenol, induline, smalt, thenard’s blue, true blue cold, cyanine, ice-blue pavonine, sapphirine, woaded, azure, azury, bluish cyanotic…black blue… livid, slaty blueness, bluishness bice...bite it off

take-make love
intimacricies, sliced held down up close to an eye cut cut cutting… cutting into fine
intensives with a cut to pull out the gap from 2D. to three then into the gap the round literally foreshortened…paraphrased as accord to lantern up to pull down and from
inside inside the outerside-slyde…

with presence given and taken away in one…like her you her…you have him not
with presence…error, fight…bruised seen, obscene, out of tune underdone undone…hole in the heart
blue eyed blue eyed blue print

impossible underneath, in the crack up under the arm close up folds the opened back to flat a little forward…blackblank lanterns folded into refraction’s carapace…eidola…consola
a…bility to strive fortoward as a space in the body’s in-ability to in-habit in them…
co-habitation enunciation

There is no one blue of substance no gesture enough to fondle love…so it is. Sooooooooooooooooo
Mr Rilke wrote…love requires a progressive foreshortening of the senses: I can see you for miles, I can hear you for blocks, I can smell you maybe, for a few feet but I can only touch on contact, taste as I devour. And as we blend, sight the sovereign sense and concepts chief content…blurs. The lover …is in such splendid danger just because she must depend upon the co-ordination of her senses for she knows that they (all) must meet in the unique and risky centre, in which, renouncing all extinction, they come together and have no permanence.

Displacement… blue the word the colour the condition the act continue to contain one another
The hand would touch lovers skin shapes allstead a blue cut through with blue.


...attending of conferences variously named torrets, shit…fuck, on a yearly or even on a once in a life time bases. fervour. could be considered a glut, a celebration of linguistic management gone to the dogs sort of extravagan-za. an experience of the sequested. attending as a margin of plots. first the signing up…if you are known as a ticker…the goodnatured nick…fuck name shit piss that is given to you by your colleges in arms on initiation into the family as it were…there is no hidden problem with getting in to these things…like a nudist colony you only have to be nude to walk around in one…and there …is no exception... (extract)



exploring correlations between sounded oralities or speakerliness, and obscenities as a possible point of departure for Language frames that 'allow' extra.