we ever get through
off-balance
look at this drawing
I slide it to you across
the table
“it is me”
-
the hand-done aspect of
life, no artists left, it was a long time the non-artists, then just agreement
full reservoir pouring out all as meaning to life, past matter, these matter forms
we seem to stick in, the nonlocal consciousness then, past the edge of your
body, it seems to say something
-
work it out
-
how it exists in this
life
-
what it says
-
no I don’t meet in diners
with a little flask for extras
my extras come through meditation
-
many people are friends
to that, if unspoken, no one can say, have special meetings, are there
computers, login identify yourself as your reputation in art world or whatever
it is
-
new leanings, it is neither
left-wing nor right-wing highbrow lowbrow outsider art, high flying heroin
addict over-soon late 20’s art who are you darling of the art world
or just everyday guy or
girl communicating with something else
our steady lives as the
pocket of life but what else
tell me
sit with silent drawing
-
the rest would drive you
into a panic, to even say it
-
you want to hold steady
in your image you present, but you beg for this, before life is over, some fool
make a setup for it
be allowed be supported
cradled by a website organization what loose foofaraw fools maidens maiden
fools male fools female, jerks or lazy good for nothings or intense meditation
4, 5 hours a day, where your inside is a nattering hell, before you find peace,
all our insides are
then to peep out, have an
avenue, for the communication not done since the beginning of the history of
the earth
we all sigh “next”
apple pie?
