"Free music for the People :: free People for the Music"

[est'd 2004 A.D. :: New Jersey]

Wednesday, August 11, 2010

The progression into dirt (but who could draw with air)

I wanted post the oldest words I could find...sounds arriving soon. And Tapes tapes tapes! Oh taps! I will wait to post more before I explode under the ocean so that you will be ready when it rains. Let me know what is alright, what you want this to be and how it can be that when there is so much silence in the sound


air hits my face (and it never stops)

it comes from, from ancient GUNS

``````blown far AWAY

years ago

across the stars watching the earth

or the dirt

where my path can be traced


above ground.

Signals of sounds surround

grey colors I hear nothing

but I have read about a satellite

satellite breeze choking


towards my friends

the magnetic ones

We escape into that satellite because we had plans to start a fire but the sun rose and there is was head floating head breathing air shrinking this balloon suffocating us and stretching we can see outside ourselves more more the moment before we stop knowing

I wonder what shaped we would make?

dead in elastic without space outlines meant to separate seeded pedals

we are

one invisible flower

and we have

a message

Who do you want to touch?always? What do you want to lose in yourself and what would you give everything to lose yourself in?

because scattered fight in all directions.

is Seeking chance - W/O being

and being.

As responsive as

cosmetic as

rain drops

could ever be

in a tornado

could ever be


my fall my limbs



WITHOUT KNOWING HOW OR WHOM (but I know its not him)


for fresh ground


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