Clean needs start in destiny. Incongruous hats pushed into snow. Words blasted into convulsive yucca. Heaving crustaceans muscular as sound. Embryonic bubbles blown into upholstery.
Painting is unfettered by steel. Proximity trebles the spectral molasses. Tuna served on broken plates. Opposites beg for purgatorial fog. Apparitions knotted in gaslight moss.
Push-ups eat their own form. Brass pipes meditated by exigency. Write pretty so pistons burn. Bend the air into bananas. The puddle does its cartoons.
The water shivers with hypothesis. Greetings grow imponderable and sizzle. The lake is excused from enthusiasm. I will wrestle your gaze. I will give you iron.
The pines haunt everyone’s ambivalence. Black holds green in opals. The physiology of swans lengthens. Inflated legs energize the rebellion. What I mean is upside-down.
What I mean is growing. What I mean is beads. Totems fiddlesticks art and rectangles. Machines that pulse with description. Appeals to invention and radicality.
Quixotic coherence turning into palms. Pain and connectedness thickening thought. A sonnet will sometimes cry. Prose accommodates a frantic crimson. Secrets coiled on the floor.
Eyeballs hissing airplanes and froth. Romance bargains for more gold. Procession on an ocher path. Words earn an agreeable spring. Sweeten the biology of tongues.
This is becoming totally cochineal. Long and wide and Dionysian. Being is bells and viscera. A spilled glass of water. The shine on the water.
Rivers move lumber through books. Hungry eyes awaken the words. Hungry fingers awaken the skin. Forehead holding an orthochromatic allegory. The spine must shoulder wings.
Aerodrome bent to a theory. Age forgives its morning energy. Dancing is home to sugar. A studio is shrewdly studied. The strain is a symptom.
But the symptom is strained. A seashore sips the sand. Blisters and sweat indicate ships. Coordinates soliciting position and heed. Willingness and meat and spoons.
Space cracking under the sea. Stethoscope hanging from a neck. Periscope rising through the waves. Telescope floating masses of stars. Five senses commingled in holly.
The taxi overcomes its welcome. We are waiting for light. The sorcerer imitates a propeller. Do you see this wilderness? Winter makes it bristle with music.
The tinkling of little bells. Words carved out of air. The lucidity of tin mosquitoes. Height itching with sporadic width. A mouth under strange development.
You could say winter plaster. Or a mouth that opens. And patches itself with words. The thread is plainly red. The door is curiously slammed.
And then opened by harmonica. Does any of this caucus? Yes and no and maybe. I feel lift by lifting. A pi dribbling fresh circumference.
Algebra testifies to parenthetical solutions. Consider it riotous but numb. You cannot calculate a parakeet. The ruby is an opinion. Yet the horizon is clumsy.
Finally it is all words. Metaphors that anneal by speaking. Which is always so helter-skelter. Pack your suitcase with elation. Act seminal at the gate.
And here you are now. Where you always have been. Sublime and humming a tune. Feeling vital and pleasantly insoluble. A flower grown unofficially pectoral.
KunstlerCast 270 — Gabbing With David Collum
2 hours ago