The present is a house that
has only windows. A thin
roof. No rooms. The sun
is cut in half by a cloud
passing across its face, re-
calling Bunuel. Is that a
pond with flowers in it? I
walk down to pick some,
carry them inside. The past is
a finger testing &/or tasting
the light. Elsewhere a cloud
passes across the moon. The
present is a vase of flowers in-
side a house surrounded by a
garden made foggy by autumn.
Saturday, January 28, 2017
#343 The Revealing of The Present
Sunday, January 22, 2017
#342 The Finery of the Storm
              Since many of the big 
                     players these days 
                         are using AI to boost 
                         customer loyalty & 
                     subsequent revenue, 
               it's not surprising 
                           that every guitarist, 
                     at some point, has 
                their sound modified 
                by a distortion gen-
                     erated by an area 
                          of machine learning.
Thursday, January 12, 2017
#341 Force of Habit
The sky flies
behind a gilded
bird inside a
cage which sings
imprisoned in
an apple. Und
so weiter; until
one hits the wall
the painting is
fixated on. &
then the house
outside of which
the painter. No-
thing else is real.
Tuesday, January 03, 2017
#340 The Village of the Mind
is the product of medical
science, manifested in its
purest shape when a disease
is new. This introduction
of a virulent organism has
been depicted as a triangle
consisting of two episodes
of new millennium TV &
a contemporary yet timeless
glass & metal occasional
furniture range that displays
many of the empirical phe-
nomena associated with
predator-prey relationships.
Global extinction forces
languages to change. The
world's population of in-
sect pollinators is nearing a
critical point. Not even time
to lay out the winding sheets.
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