mon / restless / reading eric weinstein's vivisection just out from new michigan press
which makes me long for something i dont have presently. the cover is stark white w/ a heart, a heart just plucked from some crevice of somebody's body; the cover seizes you up; you're human: of heart.
i like this one, eric.
"Letter to Allen, 2:12 AM"
Tonight it rains over New York & the sky is rust--
you never told me that, Allen, that night's machinery
could rust--now the starry dynamo ground to a halt,
now everything wound down the way time lapses over
mattresses no one sleeps on. I guess entropy's got to eat,
too--eat the crystal singing heavenly sphere's like eggs cracking
up the way your mother did, the way all mothers do--
& I think I hear wolves, Allen, which are not indigenous
to my apartment any more than horse skeletons are indigenous
to the earth behind barns but still belong. I would have liked
to hear that hydrogen jukebox. To never see this sodium sky
again, this iron sky, orange as war: that's why it is, Allen, so I
can get some sleep. To dream tonight I'm back in my childhood
home. To eat an egg in the kitchen's silence. To colonize the night's
labyrinthine spine. To sit in the attic & carve out wish-bones of stars.
Thank you, Eric Weinstein. Love your work.
i like this one, eric.
"Letter to Allen, 2:12 AM"
Tonight it rains over New York & the sky is rust--
you never told me that, Allen, that night's machinery
could rust--now the starry dynamo ground to a halt,
now everything wound down the way time lapses over
mattresses no one sleeps on. I guess entropy's got to eat,
too--eat the crystal singing heavenly sphere's like eggs cracking
up the way your mother did, the way all mothers do--
& I think I hear wolves, Allen, which are not indigenous
to my apartment any more than horse skeletons are indigenous
to the earth behind barns but still belong. I would have liked
to hear that hydrogen jukebox. To never see this sodium sky
again, this iron sky, orange as war: that's why it is, Allen, so I
can get some sleep. To dream tonight I'm back in my childhood
home. To eat an egg in the kitchen's silence. To colonize the night's
labyrinthine spine. To sit in the attic & carve out wish-bones of stars.
Thank you, Eric Weinstein. Love your work.
