Downstream in milk I, turning. Skimsurfaces flatshining. Impossible to see this head I am in all at once turning around in the light. Drift. Moves the world or I? Both shift. I am lit. I open my mouth and a song comes out delete delete me. Head a liquid fuse. Mouth full of water. Was there a photograph of the missing – waking underwater – a precarious line – breaks – tetherintestine holdfast. Those tunnels. On top this head a fantastic construction of wood, string, cloth and song, breadapples. The coming wave threatens to cancel. Fizzlick. The position here is very lowdown. On view of the ants. Meathead swims. The map of the stars is beyond reach from here in this murmur. Underneath blisters. Press down mute. Mouth fills with water. Thirst backwards. Making the crossing to something really close to bliss. The violence. Swipe weightless, flicker swipe, a return ripple from weakening I heavy. The archive of the water sorting itself. In the long tremble head goes singing a limbo smiley into the blue diminishing. No-one folds along this trace this my back no ripple can trace. Dropdown in the breathing. How much of it drops? There is so much spare time down here to compile a large and detailed map of the moon, to draw the earth’s circumference. What sucks up here from the mud. Night reaches up and pulls down the stars one by one. Dumb I mouth open head on its back mouth open singing still an upside down nebula ringed in red star in mouth. Blow. A new file opens to the sky searches unreadable stuff no equivalences found. At the peripheries of the river’s melting edges membranes between dreams and dreams I browse this water head thing untethered forget those arms long reaching the other way caught in some roots. The wattage of this mouth. Still singing of meaning and nothing and burning and glitches and flaming crocodile sauce.
Orphaned Light: the death and life of images Zine, 2020