Status Updates From Orbitór: Vänster vinge

‘I knew the stairway—scarlet—smelled like detergent & Clorox. There were days when the only people I saw—were blind. Other times I noticed the deformed beggars. It was as if the entire population—had been mutilated. Why did I come into the world? What does all this madness mean, this circus, this illusion? Why did I pop out of a woman’s uterus onto a speck in a constellation of dust? They spit sunflower seed all day’

‘The past is everything—we exist between past & future like—vermiform body of a butterfly—in between its two wings—use one wing to fly. We live on a piece of plaque in the multiple sclerosis of the universe. It was the absolute past, w/o fissure. It was metaphysical flesh, homogenous & fiberless—filaments of future. There is a universal memory that destroys the idea of time—telescoping memory—rose w/ infinite petals’

it is happening again

“In a night coagulated like blood—its geometry—hem the acanthus leaves—I wander through sinuous labyrinths—inert flesh begin to prickle—lace of nerves, veins, lymph pathways & tubes of psychic energy came back to life—my corporeal system—complete. Plastic—stupid plastic. After the petals withered and became one with the earth, the milky pods were left—Terrifically animated by the light of the flames—tang of incense.’

‘The city—shining like glass, endless, inexhaustible—blackened leaves—poplars & beech trees—made the sky seem deeper & darker toward the stars. Poems, these illumination machines, debauched me. I used them like drugs, until it was impossible for me to live without them. When I re-read them, they terrified me like—prophecy came true. My heart was almost visible in the network of blue veins—I pretended to be catatonic’