| 1 | Each world has one face |
| 1.1 | as is so often the case, nothing comes before |
| 1.1.1 | the right rite to write is inherited and spin |
| 1.1.2 | no satisfaction can come from a totality of facts |
| 1.1.3 | to expect any supplement is folly |
| 1.2 | too much, then, cannot be said now |
| 1.2.1 | without descending straight into absurdity |
| 2 | A mind saturated by money is void |
| 2.0.1 | inherited direction twines truth into text |
| 2.0.1.1 | systems osmose as they come unbound |
| 2.0.1.2 | the same errors happen across games |
| 2.0.1.2.1 | an end can only be invented |
| 2.0.1.2.2 | you take point – you take my point? |
| 2.0.1.2.3 | do we start when we start? |
| 2.0.1.2.3.1 | desperate identification of disintegrating forces |
| 2.0.1.2.4 | a statute of limitations on a charge of infinity |
| 2.0.1.3 | you are the beginning – the earth, the finish |
| 2.0.1.3.1 | your queasy uneasiness has me thinking about entropy |
| 2.0.1.4 | judgement is as clouded as vision cloudy |
| 2.0.1.4.1 | natives naïve to proper resource extraction |
| 2.0.2 | this thing is inescapable |
| 2.0.2.0 | charity is the most important ingredient |
| 2.0.2.0.1 | it is done nad now it is a text to be tested |
| 2.0.2.1 | a monument longer lasting than a statue |
| 2.0.2.1.1 | one has always marvelled at the new |
| 2.0.2.1.2 | I make a habit of randomness |
| 2.0.2.2 | certainly the wind will change the proximity |
| 2.0.2.3 | stop lying in the light – come dance in the shadows |
| 2.0.2.3.1 | to slip is surely to gain momentum? |
| 2.0.2.3.2 | explain in a few short religions fiscal policy |
| 2.0.2.3.3 | though we are unwounded we are unwinding |
| 2.0.2.3.3.1 | I’m glad that’s what it was – only slightly unnatural |
| 2.0.2.4 | in confidence we don’t talk enough of belief |
| 2.0.2.5 | to disrupt the automatic is the simplest form of work |
| 2.0.2.5.1 | to continue through conflict can create complexity |
| 2.0.2.6 | terminate this interminable internment before my interrment |
| 2.0.2.7 | what is a euphemism but a blessing? |
| 2.0.2.7.1 | humanity can breed appearances |
| 2.0.2.7.2 | only nature can breed a scent |
| 2.0.3 | assent is a whole world that is not your own |
| 2.0.3.1 | if it’s a more complete picture that you think you’re getting |
| 2.0.3.2 | I have only diverse kinds of laughter for you |
| 2.0.3.3 | don’t presume you won’t be subsumed by consumption |
| 2.0.3.4 | that self-sabotage is self-defeating is self-evident |
| 2.0.4 | we stop childproofing the house – why continue in the garden? |
| 2.0.5 | a dawn that is intended is spirit |
| 2.0.6 | a night that is custom is life-force |
| 2.0.6.1 | the role of darkness is not to be equated with |
| 2.0.6.2 | the moral of the floor is not the earth |
| 2.0.6.3 | anger leads to walls doors lead to |
| 2.1 | description begins with a line |
| 2.1.1 | joined in discontinuity is divided in articulation |
| 2.1.2 | I have stopped worrying about what people think |
| 2.1.3 | I relish the capsicum of the north and breast |
| 2.1.3.1 | I cannot imagine what everyone might say |
| 2.1.4 | the truism of individuality: experience is unique |
| 2.1.4.1 | I cannot manage to foster to tend or to construct but to harness |
| 2.1.5 | coloured bodies pushing a nuclear envelope |
| 2.1.5.1 | restrained anxieties except |
| 2.1.5.1.1 | what is the difference between time and evolution? |
| 2.1.5.1.2 | love is the eternal mystery |
| 2.1.2.1.2.1 | these two statements are equivalent |
| 2.1.5.1.3 | equivalence is omission |
| 2.1.5.1.4 | my knowledge is beside beyond – it’s self-adjacent |
| 2.1.5.1.5 | drowning in a black hole will be sucking in sense |
| 2.1.6 | what is a promise not made but still kept? |
| 2.1.6.1 | we evolve through collective experience – none is solitary |
| 2.1.7 | no agreement of fixed terms is without a loophole |
| 2.1.7.1 | before long I’ll be spun out by this love-revolution jazz |
| 2.1.7.2 | on behalf of my kind I salute your kind |
| 2.1.7.3 | adolescent civilisation always acts grown up |
| 2.1.7.4 | elsewhere skin is an eternally inherited sentence |
| 2.1.8 | dreams are the fiction that legends are made of |
| 2.1.8.1 | plates are the gears that shift key |
| 2.1.8.2 | these are the falsehoods of our spin |
| 2.1.9 | death is a transfer of energy to one’s reamining colleagues |
| 2.2 | objects made up of entities composed of things |
| 2.2.1 | all of this is part of what we need |
| 2.2.2 | make a conservative decision at this fork |
| 2.2.2.1 | replicate in part a cryptic error |
| 2.2.2.2 | I think more than you think |
| 2.2.2.3 | overcomplication and incompatible colutions are all noble |
| 2.2.2.4 | don’t believe everything you read on the internet |
| 2.2.2.5 | no cliches are good cliches |
| 3 | Every object provokes a thought |
| 3.0 | a feast is broken in half for the guest of honour |
| 3.0.0 | a patterned Persian rug sits on the flaw |
| 3.0.0.1 | the perfect collective is the dream of the free individual |
| 3.0.1 | adage plus addition equals adage |
| 3.0.2 | our magnificent examples of new money are lonely |
| 3.0.3 | conscience conspires to construct a cohabitation |
| 3.0.3.1 | everything is the cause of everything else |
| 3.0.3.2 | resample legality at various resolutions |
| 3.0.3.2.1 | protection violates but not the opposite |
| 3.0.4 | gifts hide a sacred taboo |
| 3.0.5 | perhaps civilisation is a bit silly |
| 3.1 | I absolutely doubt that children can understand |
| 3.1.1 | not improvised or instrumented but music of the mind |
| 3.1.2 | like this electronic composition classless and classical |
| 3.1.3 | my grand opening lacks theory – so bid more |
| 3.1.4 | if you listen you can hear the tinkling cymbal and sounding brass |
| 3.1.4.1 | note this symphony – it will be remembered |
| 3.1.4.2 | on a scale of one cannot comprehend |
| 3.1.4.3 | gently a first tone is played out |
| 3.1.4.3.1 | softly music is viewed ever less scientific |
| 3.1.4.3.2 | with force elating tenor of orchestra fades to bass |
| 3.1.4.4 | staccato syncopation risks excessive technicality |
| 3.2 | I don’t really think that’s appropriate in conversation |
| 3.3 | I’m relatively certain of complete doubt |
| 3.3.1 | resolving an image guarantees resolution |
| 3.3.1.1 | without going into lawhood – genetics is Nazidom |
| 3.3.1.2 | Father, why have you patriarchy? |
| 3.3.1.3 | each of us is capable of the marvellous disorder of genius |
| 3.3.1.4 | language is the mediator of all things |
| 3.3.1.5 | slipping through words to a chorus for a title |
| 3.3.1.6 | conversation of leagues is deeply shallow |
| 3.3.1.7 | may your genitals be gnawed for wishing that on someone else |
| 3.3.1.8 | I have never seen rats racing |
| 3.3.2 | you have forgotten the use of your own tools |
| 3.3.2.1 | keep spitting in its face – democracy will throw you a curveball |
| 3.3.2.2 | when I stop considering – it’s so stereotypical |
| 3.3.2.3 | a corrupt symbol on a steeple above a flock |
| 3.3.2.4 | there is great potential for unknowing to have a place in the world |
| 3.3.2.5 | big potion – big fire |
| 3.3.2.6 | sprinkle illicit seeds on government grounds |
| 3.3.2.7 | I enjoy this art more than you do |
| 3.3.2.8 | physically between you and me an archaeology of knowledge lies |
| 3.3.3 | emotion is compressed into junk punctuation |
| 3.3.3.1 | does playing computer games make you eternally young? |
| 3.3.3.2 | widespread panic teeters on its single foundation |
| 3.3.3.3 | whatever, Trevor – it’s not my buzz to get you down |
| 3.3.3.4 | our dreams outstrip our reality so desperately and direly |
| 3.3.4 | start small – that much is true |
| 3.3.4.1 | the harmonist is the hardest job no one cares about |
| 3.3.4.1.1 | you know I’m not long for this world |
| 3.3.4.2 | when the cat’s away – play |
| 3.3.4.2.1 | the problem with telling people they’ll all get rich |
| 3.3.4.3 | like genes – likes oppose – isn’t it fun? |
| 3.3.4.4 | my old dad would say nothing now |
| 3.3.4.4.1 | speak in a language we can all understand |
| 3.3.4.4.2 | desperation will always hatch a plan |
| 3.4 | I won’t be convinced of anything else |
| 3.4.1 | except that the cause of empathy is hunger |
| 3.4.2 | fiction is more fantastic |
| 3.5 | you may find it hard to ban something older than you are |
| 4 | Prudence, Faith and Charity are become but Catholic schoolgirls |
| 4.0 | we have avoided love until this point |
| 4.0.0 | and by whose standards of death should I live anyway? |
| 4.0.0.1 | I’m ashamed at what I’ve come to terms with |
| 4.0.0.2 | I don’t cry for the dead but for Death |
| 4.0.0.3 | Big whoop-dee-doo-that’s nothing no one can do |
| 4.0.0.3.1 | an illusion with a rabbit, a hat, gold, and a book |
| 4.0.1 | ask a stupid question and you’ll get a yes/no answer |
| 4.0.1.1 | how does “yes” feel? |
| 4.0.1.2 | all I want is one big enough to share with the world |
| 4.0.1.3 | a national dream is a silly, silly model |
| 4.0.1.4 | I talk to the trees |
| 4.0.1.4.1 | the’s why they put me away |
| 4.0.1.5 | there’s a light spot is every tear and vice-versa |
| 4.0.1.6 | everything you do in the end will be wrong |
| 4.0.2 | no, sir – we have grown with the universe |
| 4.0.2.1 | in possibility – excess exists |
| 4.0.2.2 | food is unlegislatable – (s |
| 4.0.2.3 | drink water and rest |
| 4.0.2.4 | I 100% love you |
| 4.0.2.5 | there is no fate worse than death |
| 4.0.2.6 | gold often disappears |
| 4.0.2.7 | their cure is turpentine |
| 4.0.3 | I barely watch any TV at all |
| 4.0.3.1 | Nothing but disease can smell fear like animals |
| 4.0.3.1.1 | memory and thought sit on opposite sides |
| 4.0.3.1.2 | but both sit on your shoulders |
| 4.0.3.2 | remember by remembering that identity slips by |
| 4.0.4 | entires always burst |
| 4.0.4.1 | an ever more increasing dose |
| 4.0.4.1.1 | if you have no expertise, |
| 4.0.4.1.2 | I’m lucky to have got away with what I did |
| 4.0.5 | attempt to contact the real |
| 4.0.6 | I will dazzle them with my wit |
| 4.0.6.1 | your tent can be our home |
| 4.0.6.2 | I have drones and big white balls? |
| 4.0.6.2.1 | it’s false teeth for me |
| 4.0.6.3 | I’m Fred. Nice to meet you. |
| 4.0.6.4 | you are a fracking idiot |
| 4.0.6.4.1 | we can’t all be enlightened aliens |
| 4.1 | two magnets opposing long enough will balance |
| 4.1.1 | the court jester saved my life |
| 4.1.1.1 | inside the museum – I’m winding down |
| 4.1.1.2 | where on earth are two ways to Mecca – maqam? |
| 4.1.1.2.1 | no way one can crack wake liquid liguit like that |
| 4.1.1.2.2 | the aura I form for myself is to heal |
| 4.1.1.3 | do dinosaurs have three eyes? |
| 4.1.1.4 | on seven occasions have you ruined my life |
| 4.1.1.5 | and now it’s your twin again |
| 4.1.1.6 | why don’t you prove picking up one fag is easy |
| 4.1.2 | what happens if you throw a stone at no one? |
| 4.1.2.1 | everything in moderation including moderation |
| 4.1.2.1.1 | fix it up quick smart – gerry rig |
| 4.1.2.1.2 | imagine there’s no people – above us only sky |
| 4.1.2.1.3 | it’s difficult – it’s hard – it’s shallow |
| 4.1.2.2 | the top-dog rationalist spared it |
| 4.1.2.2.1 | up on trial are the limits of my language |
| 4.1.2.3 | wishing cancer on others is the cancer of the planet |
| 4.1.2.4 | expect oration – believe in faith, Rhett, or Rick? |
| 4.1.2.4.1 | join the survivors club – or the saviours’ |
| 4.1.2.5 | Sith can’t commit suicide with their lightsaber |
| 4.1.2.5.1 | I am studied in the art of deliberate wandering |
| 4.1.2.5.2 | life is a gambol is the cross-eyed bear |
| 4.1.2.6 | we are now vocoded to the extreme |
| 4.1.2.7 | the more you wish it, the less likely |
| 4.1.2.7.1 | we all blame ourselves for death |
| 4.1.2.7.2 | in the end it’s The Dead we should blame |
| 4.1.2.7.2.1 | identify the structure of a post |
| 4.1.2.7.3 | let’s build a pyramid upside down |
| 4.1.2.7.4 | let’s start with the premises |
| 4.1.2.8 | afroamericans’ semiconservative replication fork |
| 4.2 | let’s hold out then and come in |
| 4.2.1 | guns blazing for the finale |
| 4.2.2 | any utterance unaimed to no one in particular |
| 4.2.2.1 | corruption may be a form of socialism |
| 4.2.2.1.1 | life without cigarettes sucks |
| 4.2.3 | the crazy do think they are sane |
| 4.2.4 | but the sane should know they are crazy |
| 4.2.4.1 | I am a handwriting – you are pen to pad |
| 4.2.4.2 | accept all sides on all sides |
| 4.2.4.3 | that Girardian scapegoat nonsense must stop |
| 4.2.5 | with this much – one cannot argue |
| 4.2.6 | cold-blooded rational killers are the worst kind |
| 4.2.7 | children – ever see one police car chasing another |
| 4.2.8 | don’t talk to the president in your head |
| 4.3 | write him or her or it or them a letter |
| 4.3.1 | don’t divide by a paradox – you fuck-up |
| 4.4 | our people cry our way – “our way! Our way!” |
| 4.4.1 | you have cut so many corners |
| 4.4.1.1 | there is barely a shape left |
| 4.4.2 | suspicion cannot meet random cannot be met with law |
| 4.4.3 | checkmate – you’re it! |
| 4.4.3.1 | if and only if the warping of this grain stands as true |
| 4.4.4 | this is what happens if you stand in his way |
| 4.4.4.1 | in lesser or varying degrees |
| 4.4.4.2 | murolegna te ruoqol munimoh siugnil is |
| 4.4.5 | I believe the signs only when I have |
| 4.4.6 | and the horse you rode in on? |
| 4.4.6.1 | give me a palette to paint on and colours |
| 4.4.6.1.1 | don’t detest a test |
| 4.4.6.2 | people who have no boundaries |
| 4.4.6.3 | we are all people with disorders |
| 4.4.6.4 | the one needs the other |
| 4.4.6.5 | how to slip through time and space unnoticed |
| 4.4.6.6 | drink all the ginger beer you want |
| 4.4.6.6.1 | witchcraft inquisitors? I’ll speak later |
| 4.5 | what cruel and unusual punishment have you for me? |
| 4.5.1 | if you are good, the universe may send you a sign |
| 4.5.2 | I made light, made mockery and made fools of them at once |
| 4.5.3 | welcome to the awesome avant garde |
| 4.5.4 | sometimes I break my own rules |
| 5 | without her there is no gender for him |
| 5.0.1 | he cannot be an altruistic dictator over her |
| 5.0.2 | we feel the need of each tiny protein to replicate |
| 5.1 | in the end there was the word |
| 5.1.0.1 | and she said light it up and let it be |
| 5.1.1 | this kind of love is toxic |
| 5.1.2 | the more people you alienate, the more alien you become |
| 5.1.2.1 | I have unsurpassed pointedness in my undies |
| 5.1.2.2 | leave my life out of this |
| 5.1.2.3 | nothing but mammals could effect each other this way |
| 5.1.2.4 | gravity and agriculture destroy culture |
| 5.1.2.4.1 | cotton fields are not male or female |
| 5.1.3 | he or she is so foolishly limiting |
| 5.1.3.1 | eugenics slips by day by day unnoticed |
| 5.1.3.1.1 | I don’t like thinking in universal drift |
| 5.1.3.2 | I and she, the first planetary untouchables |
| 5.1.3.3 | has our hidey-hole been found |
| 5.1.3.4 | are your legs all white from the winter? |
| 5.1.3.5 | she and I in the shade of linden with elder |
| 5.1.3.6 | her little birds tell me how to do it |
| 5.1.3.6.1 | binary universes align through insufflation |
| 5.1.3.6.2 | gender limits to two? |
| 5.1.3.6.3 | innocence was his saviour |
| 5.1.4 | to err is Maori for to forgive |
| 5.1.4.1 | she is too thin a question mark |
| 5.1.4.2 | she is time as he is order |
| 5.1.4.3 | if she trusts you enough, do it all night |
| 5.1.5 | I set her a booby trap |
| 5.1.5.1 | beware of angry oversceintific lesbians |
| 5.1.5.1.1 | she hates arthrits |
| 5.1.5.2 | what’s wrong with “keep calm and rape”? |
| 5.1.5.3 | she told me “no dumb ideas” |
| 5.1.5.4 | what’s wrong with “keep calm and bake cakes”? |
| 5.1.5.5 | you fucking bitches, I will never be “well” |
| 5.1.5.6 | without you, there is no wiggle-woggle |
| 5.2 | no male nonesense soul-sucking shit |
| 5.2.1 | I will come up with unleading lines |
| 5.2.2 | when I goddamn feel like charity |
| 5.2.3 | I saw her nightmares in my dream |
| 5.2.3.1 | hermaphrodites are losing their androgyny |
| 5.2.3.3 | again too techincal for binary |
| 5.2.3.3 | she rescinds what he revokes |
| 5.2.3.4 | we all take both back afterwards |
| 5.2.3.4.1 | I point – you encircle – we connect |
| 5.2.4 | paradigm stretches like a universe or bubble |
| 5.2.4.1 | she doesn’t understand me – how sad |
| 5.2.4.2 | happily female life is soap-operatic melodrama |
| 5.2.5 | we’re gonna finish it here because we’re not |
| 5.2.5.1 | getting here for that’s it – yeah we’re here. |
| 5.2.5.2 | that’s how much sense they often make |
| 5.2.5.2.1 | I am learning an alien language – yours |
| 5.2.5.2.2 | she betrays herself to herself and believes it |
| 5.2.5.2.3 | soon I will be at the point |
| 5.2.5.3 | where I will about to have walked |
| 5.2.5.4 | to the shop: she is now |
| 5.3 | he won’t let her near the golden goose |
| 5.3.1 | where are all the old men who like young women? |
| 5.3.2 | where are all the opposite? |
| 5.4 | those without expertise should not advise |
| 5.4.1 | you’ve got a big head – learn to use it |
| 5.4.2 | a whole way of life could be stifled by paranoia |
| 5.4.3 | we are being led by a follower |
| 5.4.4 | rooted in the same mode of thought |
| 5.4.4.1 | ritual and monuments to tree-spirit |
| 5.4.4.2 | the answer must be in the negative |
| 5.4.5 | don’t get up in her shit |
| 5.4.5.1 | what is a woman without a man? |
| 5.4.5.2 | what is a man without a woman? |
| 5.4.5.3 | what comes first? |
| 5.4.5.4 | This promotes us. Not you. Silly! |
| 5.4.5.4.1 | slow and steady |
| 5.4.6 | he doesn’t have time for her every purpose now |
| 5.4.6.1 | call it – we we’re too late |
| 5.4.6.1.1 | her time is roughly half a heartbeat |
| 5.4.7 | the lovers agree – meet under a tree at three |
| 5.4.7.1 | his time sits like a dog |
| 5.4.7.1.1 | hers flies like a bird |
| 5.4.7.2 | her supplies arrive at cock’s crow |
| 5.4.7.3 | for every time there are people |
| 5.4.7.3.1 | my train will leave the city |
| 5.4.7.3.2 | 15 minutes late as usual |
| 5.4.7.3.2.1 | his time is travel – her travel distorts time |
| 5.4.7.3.3 | come on – wrap it up – that’s it – show’s over |
| 5.4.7.4 | she was just in time |
| 5.4.7.5 | I was out of time |
| 5.4.7.6 | she will fit her in tomorrow if there’s space |
| 5.5 | time is lost in haste and gained in speed |
| 5.5.0.1 | her hand has no energy to move past twenty to |
| 5.5.0.2 | time between us is all give and take |
| 5.5.0.3 | the band stepped it up gradually over the night |
| 5.5.1 | time can be the difference |
| 5.5.1.1 | between success and failure |
| 5.5.1.2 | what better place to spend an evening |
| 5.5.1.3 | his time diverges as his times converge |
| 5.5.1.4 | winning the race and taking the record |
| 5.5.1.5 | part of her wants to stay up past bedtime |
| 5.5.1.5.1 | the rowers worked to the beat of a drum |
| 5.5.2 | time can tick by like nails in a coffin |
| 5.5.2.1 | or like tapping feet or the purr of an engine |
| 5.5.2.2 | when do we eat around here? |
| 5.5.2.3 | catch him, thief of time, run down |
| 5.5.2.4 | the winged chariot – bind that old Chronos |
| 5.5.2.5 | with flax ropes she wore |
| 5.5.2.6 | the first time we met – you said |
| 5.5.2.6.1 | make the best of what little you have |
| 5.5.2.6.2 | together we face the finality of death |
| 5.5.3 | and congratulations to the happy couple |
| 5.5.3.0.1 | for the bouncing bundle of joy last night |
| 5.5.3.0.2 | doing productive things |
| 5.5.3.0.3 | for our life |
| 5.5.3.1 | and marriage |
| 5.5.3.2 | wear a famous yellow raincoat |
| 5.5.3.2.1 | catch a taxi to Adam’s |
| 5.5.3.3 | there are stars |
| 5.5.3.4 | from another view |
| 5.5.3.5 | and a moon |
| 5.5..3.5.1 | I spent her money on what we can’t afford |
| 5.5.3.5.2 | to fatten her up so she’s always mine |
| 5.5.4 | take a surrealistic pillow on an embryonic journey |
| 5.5.4.1 | you’re not keeping your side of the social bargain |
| 5.5.4.2 | there’s some on your keyboard |
| 5.5.4.2.1 | please – you aren’t helping me |
| 5.5.4.2.2 | note the pin is a double attack |
| 5.5.4.2.3 | that very night before witnesses she was |
| 5.5.5 | wondering what it was she was supposed to do here |
| 5.5.5.1 | let’s have lesbian sex |
| 5.5.5.2 | it’s hard to tell the fake from the real |
| 5.5.5.2.1 | without you I cannot make up my mind |
| 5.5.5.3 | let’s do a heart swap |
| 5.5.5.4 | this is not his wax fire |
| 5.5.5.4.1 | it’s just about time, she said, to head on in |
| 5.5.5.4.2 | I’ll be right over |
| 5.5.5.5 | mine, she is a woman of her word |
| 5.5.5.6 | and she is a woman of words |
| 5.5.5.6.1 | and we stand on cosmic corner |
| 5.5.5.6.2 | and the assholes can do nothing |
| 5.5.5.6.3 | I owe him forever for that not fatal beating |
| 5.5.5.7 | that was a lie – I admit it |
| 5.5.5.7.1 | I tell them for you all the time |
| 5.6 | she poops picassos |
| 5.6.1 | I fly like that too |
| 5.6.2 | how did I just learn that by magic? |
| 5.6.2.1 | withering my intuition missing opportunities |
| 5.6.3 | that I must feel – my will to draw |
| 5.6.3.1 | this moment outside the lines |
| 5.6.3.2 | to(o) I you come now |
| 5.6.3.3 | to(o) shit |
| 5.6.3.3.1 | watch it bend |
| 5.6.3.4 | I wore a pink string for my transgender bride |
| 5.6.4 | your meritocracy sucks |
| 5.6.4.1 | sol is a feminine noun |
| 6 | Gravity roots you to the place you were born |
| 6.0.0.1 | we’re see-through, like a lens |
| 6.0.0.2 | we’re all see-through, like this |
| 6.0.1 | it’s one universe and it all glows |
| 6.0.2 | harvest seems like it will last forever |
| 6.0.2.1 | part of us yearns to celebrate that again |
| 6.0.2.2 | hey, too much could be true |
| 6.0.3 | conflicting and competing cultures |
| 6.0.3.1 | every person has a conception of evil |
| 6.1 | I can speak woman, but I don’t understand |
| 6.1.1 | you can find him in Guantanamo Bay |
| 6.1.1.1 | coca bush leaves have a cocaine problem |
| 6.1.1.2 | I can smell beached whale cooking |
| 6.1.1.3 | Hyperchondriacs! The superstitious! Maniacs! |
| 6.1.2 | the dodo was a creative misunderstanding |
| 6.1.2.0.1 | I know where to ford the river |
| 6.1.2.0.2 | I’m a nurturing kind of guy |
| 6.1.2.0.3 | but you can’t stand in the way of nature |
| 6.1.2.1 | we speak with relatives, not absolutes |
| 6.1.2.2 | my people, our people, everyone’s people. |
| 6.1.2.2.1 | Hördur Torfason staged a one man protest. |
| 6.1.2.2.2 | In October 2008. In May 2013. |
| 6.1.2.2.3 | I stage a one man protest. |
| 6.1.2.2.4 | Hah! Just more coincidence of old salt! |
| 6.1.2.3 | Bees are attracted to blue. |
| 6.1.2.3.1 | What is a man to a woman? |
| 6.1.2.3.2 | What is a woman to a man? |
| 6.1.2.3.3 | What is each alone? |
| 6.1.2.4 | You are fucking me for my lines! |
| 6.1.2.5 | I had few cents and little since for sense. |
| 6.1.2.5.1 | Oh, and it’s the seventh circle of hell for them. |
| 6.1.2.6 | I remember this lady, |
| 6.1.2.6.1 | she went into Whitcoulls. |
| 6.1.2.6.2 | And she wanted to buy |
| 6.1.2.6.3 | one of these books. |
| 6.1.2.6.4 | And she went up to the desk, apparently, |
| 6.1.2.6.5 | and she asked, oh, |
| 6.1.2.7 | “I want to have a book by, um…” |
| 6.1.2.7.1 | And the person who was serving her said, |
| 6.1.3 | “Ah, that Maori writer? |
| 6.2 | “You mean Witi Ihimaera?” – “Yes.” |
| 6.2.1 | Watene smiled ruefully. In some respects, the |
| 6.2.1.1 | girl he’d met in the pub had been right. |
| 6.2.2 | He was middle-class. But he wasn’t going |
| 6.2.3 | to be middle-class forever, no. For the time |
| 6.2.3.1 | being, maybe, but he hadn’t finished yet. |
| 6.2.3.2 | “Come and join us, Watene!” He heard Colin calling |
| 6.2.3.2.1 | him to where Francesca were playing |
| 6.2.3.2.2 | some silly game. He nodded. But that |
| 6.2.3.2.3 | house hadn’t finished with him yet, and |
| 6.2.3.3 | as it continued to nudge his memory he |
| 6.2.3.3.1 | felt a sudden flood of affection for it. |
| 6.2.3.4 | For nine years it had kept him, nurtured him |
| 6.2.3.4.1 | and looked after him. No matter how |
| 6.2.4 | far he went he would never forget it |
| 6.2.4.1 | because it had been at the beginning |
| 6.3 | of his life. Anyway, it seemed that it |
| 6.3.1 | would never let him forget. He grinned |
| 6.3.2 | and looked towards the windows. |
| 6.3.2.1 | Sugarbags fluttering in the wind. |
| 6.3.2.1.1 | Smoke billowing through the room. |
| 6.3.3 | Yes, he whispered, I need you to |
| 6.3.4 | remind me and to make me remember |
| 6.3.4.1 | who I am. And I will need you more |
| 6.3.4.2 | as I keep on climbing. Never leave me. |
| 6.3.4.3 | He joined Colin and Francesca. The wine |
| 6.3.4.3.1 | burst within him and lifted his spirits. |
| 6.3.4.3.2 | You’re back with us, are you? Colin asked. |
| 6.3.5 | I suppose I am, he answered. |
| 6.3.6 | He lifted his wineglass in a secret toast… |
| 6.3.6.1 | See you soon, eh? |
| 6.3.6.1.1 | At sparrows’ fart. |
| 6.3.6.1.1.1 | I’m off the phone now. |
| 6.3.6.2 | Do you want to talk to me? |
| 6.3.6.3 | Yeah. |
| 6.3.6.3.1 | I’ll be right there. |
| 6.3.6.3.1.1 | Till the cows come home. |
| 6.3.7 | I have lives to write and nothing left. |
| 6.3.7.1 | So, old Jim Hickey, give him a flickey. |
| 6.3.7.2 | Or steal my antique barometer. |
| 6.3.7.3 | However will we make up our minds. |
| 6.3.7.4 | The Rainbow Warrior was a messianic martyr. |
| 6.3.7.5 | I worked like a slave (to love?) for six hours. |
| 6.3.7.5.1 | Mix a grunge garment into perfect dress. |
| 6.4 | God is the eternal middle man. |
| 6.4.1 | They’re never gonna let me out of here |
| 6.4.2 | until I give them what they want. |
| 6.4.2.1 | The dangerous will become more pleasurable. |
| 6.4.2.2 | Light calls us to grow. Darkness the same. |
| 6.4.2.3 | Light comforts. Darkness the same. |
| 6.4.3 | So I gave them what they wanted. |
| 6.4.3.1 | And cut out the middle man. |
| 6.4.3.1.1 | Michael: “In defiance of the laws of gravity.” |
| 6.4.3.1.2 | What the hell is hybridity anyway, you ask. |
| 6.4.3.2 | Here: third-space filled with enunciatory present. |
| 6.4.3.2.1 | Walk and walk and where’s the line? |
| 6.4.4 | Is this a mockery or a mimicry: |
| 6.4.5 | there is no metropolis w!o a necropolis. |
| 6.5 | We move together so we move as one. |
| 6.5.1 | What do you see when you look at a snowflake? |
| 6.5.2 | Why do people from the snow have funny minds? |
| 6.5.2.1 | Christ, you are a bane on my people. |
| 6.5.2.2 | Step out the front door. |
| 6.5.3 | Stop thinking, know-it-all. |
| 6.5.4 | Celebrated, it all, for you, Miriam. |
| 7 | I cannot be silent. |
| 7.1 | Get behind me, sunshine, rainbows and rabbits! |
| 7.1.1 | If not for him this would not even be poetry. |
| 7.1.1.1 | Bankers insult the biomass of the earth. |
| 7.1.2 | In the end the greatest power lies in sacrifice. |
| 7.1.3 | A god particle, nothing more than a snapshot, |
| 7.1.4 | and of electronic flux? |
| 7.2 | |
| 7.2.1 | The message was clear – |
| 7.2.1.1 | this is what happens if you get in our way. |
| 7.3 | I nailed myself to the cross this time. |
| 7.4.1.1 | Where are the real patrons – oh patience, oh parents. |
| 7.5 | Is it visual or auditory we’re sure of and why? |
| 7.6 | Growth synthesises growth, |
| 7.6.1 | which could be life alone for the soil, |
| 7.6.2 | so to wander on the planets in such a way, |
| 7.6.3 | like temporaray grammar, |
| 7.6.3.1 | the supreme regularity of the electron. |
| 7.6.4 | How wonderful to discover |
| 7.6.4.1 | knowledge of language through experience |
| 7.6.4.1.1 | that could be frozen trees of syntax |
| 7.6.4.1.2 | or between me and the spring air |
| 7.6.5 | in notable absence of vanity |
| 7.7 | I appeal that my cries ring out |
| 7.7.1 | to people disconnected from people. |
| 7.7.2 | As hard as I wash, |
| 7.7.3 | the hands may always carry this stain. |
| 7.7.4 | A missing statement: unspeakable, unspoken, unmemorable. |
| 7.7.5 | Refuse impositions on the soul. |
| 7.7.6 | Only the final effect goes unnoticed. |
| 7.7.7 | God has arrived. I met him on the 5.15 train. |
AEGISFORMIRIAM 