but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
Will you get married?
Yes
When?
Soon
To who?
Me
Who are you?
Papa
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
You weren´t crying about mother.
Were crying because can't get your shadow to stick on.
Anyway, you weren´t crying.
(Peter Pan, Act 1)
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
Will you get married?
Yes
When?
Soon
To who?
Me
Who are you?
Papa
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
You weren´t crying about mother.
Were crying because can't get your shadow to stick on.
Anyway, you weren´t crying.
(Peter Pan, Act 1)
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
I don’t give
I ask him
like the lord
who has taken away
the lord has taken away
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
You weren´t crying about mother.
Were crying because can't get your shadow to stick on.
Anyway, you weren´t crying.
(Peter Pan, Act 1)
“And how, from there, from that edge, that muffled yell, that tumbled childhood, can a kingdom spread?”
Still have the scar from that bubble on the back of your wrist.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
The show begins. It’s ready. You sit to watch the audience. Now you can clap.
The lord has given, the Lord has taken away.
You find laps that sheltered you and the same bosoms nursed you, although he eats from the dish of lentils and what must be eaten unsalted.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
You weren´t crying about mother.
Were crying because can't get your shadow to stick on.
Anyway, you weren´t crying.
(Peter Pan, Act 1)
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
Here when? Between walls of sound. Who now? Not wondering. That, there. Soon. You're not.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
It will only be real and intense when it detaches from the stalk and its essence dries.
but what if she comes one day and you’re gone?
Close your eyes and swallow the host of your lineage in a single mouthful.
You were Styrofoam cups bound together with reed string, the bicycled inclines and scraped forehead.
CHILDHOOD ISN’T SOMETHING YOU CAN HAVE.
although
YOU CAN LOSE IT
Everything at once, said Mozart, who one day heard the whole composition in a single line. Those who leave, we’re the eagle flying over the monolith.
It couldn’t be found because he took it with him.
You picked out mother’s dress. It was black.
“Come on, don’t be like that, let her play with you”
CHILDHOOD IS HAD IN THE PRESENT,
in the preterite
OF WHAT DOESN’T HAPPEN.
Facing a drab mirror,
rub your eyes
like the squares of an empty market.
CHILDHOOD IS SOMETHING ELSE.
a type of speech
MINUTIAE
You weren´t crying about mother.
Were crying because can't get your shadow to stick on.
Anyway, you weren´t crying.
(Peter Pan, Act 1)
visualize the voice of thought.
think the image of the voice.
provoke destiny. play.
from chance, from the sigh.
understand the force that links
the image to the name.
the name is an image.
the image is a verb.
play. nothing is chance.
destiny is a game.
everything is destiny.
—