moon fountain

images from Puerto del la Cruz visit collide and kiss with this mornings bath-tub. demonstrate a day dream: 

they have seats outside the moon so you can sit and wait by the ocean...

alongside the rocks which are stacked up up

and are still your sitting outside the moon

(like you, they appear absent minded)

the carved totems from their poles have long since left for sea,

as have your dreams

the stones wait like you do,

faceless patience is their pace

still, at the very same time and not so far away,

waiting turns to lunar pull

 the woman outside the moon rises from her sitting genuflection

and is at the same time me turning my attention to her mouth

 gridlocked and inaudible

it is the constant O

that in turn says:

'return to me'

towards which the aquatic will splash despite themselves

and Speak!

After the baby shower I took home with me a soapy blue foetus.
this morning I bathed with it.

coming home she begins to honey-salivate on the soapy-blue
in the bath she speaks:
'I localize in the audacious moment of a this is for me'

mouth still O
turning on her stomach she echolocates melodies
and is the spontaneous generation of water
that preceded the box

it is perverse to wash with a foetal soap. it is funny. 

and I am reminded of my sisters collage when I do this.

so have here invented her a history. one of many. and that is how I like to play games.

This post is a spontaneously generated O

the tapas-verse

A proposal for a feast of a game.

It began with my perplexity when presented with a cosmic ultra-sound

'wtf, is that a bagel?'
so be it. time to eat and see for myself. this journey to the universe will take place on a saucer.

I slice with a butter knife into two. and spread with jam.
Then me and sister give initial readings from our time travels:

whilst taking my first bite what once was just tongue takes me to arid land. lead by tongue locomotive. bumpy and dry at first. craters. moments of sharp explosion. pinchy. start to spin. but not a dizzy aerial spinning, more a digging and turning in the soil; 'so and so would turn in their grave if they could see me now' ...above below; a rolling to be continued...

edge of a volcano.
tastes smoky.
a bit of heat.
gooey.
being drawn down.
I am being drawn to the centre of something.
I just keep going down.
soft and gentle

and of the finger cats that could have been born...

I indexed this one.

dynamical cat

Do you mind dynamical cat? I am trying to make something happen.
Monday happen.
Is it even Monday?
Well yes it is, because I say so. And when I say Monday I think it is the first day.
And I know you are the young man who I spoke to yesterday.
I showed him the Promethea novel I was reading, where I was up to.
(I am pulling a coil)
You liked it. And I wanted to give it to you then and there.
But it was a Monday and I wasn’t quite finished with it.
But don’t think I don’t notice you with your paw on my pen.
You are hardly discreet.
What I write will happen. Then you can take the novel.
I am writing you into it now.
And don’t you want to see how it ends?
I like the ending to have happened before I did so I can feel like it preceded me.
(sensation of filling up)
really It is a matter of husks. I am making and filling husks.
I once thought there would be no more Mondays after the fall of the tower.
Well there is. But Mondays are not always on Mondays.
In polite societies they will ask one and other ‘is it a Monday for you today?’.
In more forward societies they will say ‘I beg to differ, it is a Friday. I’ve got that Friday feeling’.
I wasn’t quite ready to go out in the rain as there is a time for everything.
It is just whiplash so dry your eyes Sunday girl.

rules

'my facts don't care about your feelings'
'my feelings don't care about your facts'
...

moon cat

It was said that the reactionary kitty cat, as they named her, refused to leave her tower due to a crippling fear that a giant panther would eat her. Knowing fine well she herself was a panther.
“your accent, my dear, is quite beguiling. It sounds like you are from a faraway land, always ready for a fight”.
-is that a wish formulated, fine sir? If not I’d suggest elocution lessons for people up north to avoid any unnecessary conflict.
“It is in you, the scary, in you. I have located it. It sits just behind that furry-wispy-ebony-oily mask you call a face. You are serotonin! Just say it and serotonin me! I am terribly depressed.”
NO

and here are some doodles I did today as a reactionary cat:

'could have blew stuff up but instead I drew this'

'could have built a commune. but I said no'

'I am horrible' 

Izzy's web

A lone spider in a box (found objects cluster)

oh oh, look who is here

'very pretty is the refracted light and little things'

'and very handsome is his majesty' 

'I must touch just to see'

whoops.

Izzy concludes:
'this I call war trauma box and it is quite good sometimes to let the curiosity allow the mental to fall. down down, quite alright. shifting is liberty is health. dreams will be realized.'

the passion according to femme-cell kitty

Once upon a time...

"lunar jellybean"

“feet, what do I need you for when I have wings to fly?”
so that is how my slipper slipped away.
Barefoot it is then.
a slip slip treading walks forth into….
Meanwhile, we could be anywhere.

It is because: vaporous is my attention to sea shells: each does something different to me. carries me differently.
And I barely know where I have been.
but I really seem to like them.

You could always sink back into the amnesia of my sleeping surface
a quiet humming
or the slow buzzing I hear when I look at you.
It is not even noise anymore.
maybe a coil in the ear

listening.
I touch myself from any distance.
and I take you in.

be a lunar jellybean

there is:
a baby bird with a head too heavy for its body.
still so young.
she crowns me as she tucks me into what I am.
tieing up loose ends
is like tendons straining to make a neck.
Keep still very still.
still so young.
and looking forward too.

you will have a brain!

if you like
I love you

and this succession names you:
Lunar jellybean