Semi-Daily Scribbles
Carving out a corner to post random crap.
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Category: Contemplation
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time and being turnturn words backwards to hide crimes crimes of omission
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My name is Reed Wallis. I live inside a faux bison hide tipi more than likely at the end of your street. I carve initials into things, like T.I.E. on the gray, axe bit-mangled post which supports your letterbox. I like ladies called George. One of them slipped me this on the back of a…
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The notion of truth (What is it? Where can I get some? Does it come in my size?) makes my head pound. I mean, we know truth when we see it, right? Ok, then. Give me your systems and processes and phenomena and I will show and/or tell you what is what. You can do…
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Shit blocks our sight lineschoke on a thought you forgotdare to tear my heart.Then comes the hard partconstruction ruins the viewI speak one true word.We move with the herdhome is more an attitudeshoved inside a box.
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I see what you're talking about. That is a giant mirror up there on the hill. There we are! The shiny blindness seems sort of dangerous, though. You'd have thought they'd have thought it dangerous, too. They being the park builders and the committee that selected the sculptures. I know. Can a mirror be called…
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a breakthrough at 22completely forgotten by 60the work, at the time, was truetrue to an ideal that never quite fitbut tenacity was the whole point of itkeep rewinding those spools of thoughtuntil an answer breaks through the membranein random perspectives and cloudy horizonsabsolute mastery of nothing awaitssweetly we shall slip into non-existenceand rejoice in…
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If you can't put a thought into words, then you're dancing in the big black empty. Yeah? I brewed a pot of peppermint tea. Here, let me pour you a cup. And if I don't get out of here soon for some water–I'm talking miles of the stuff–and some right proper dim sum I am…
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What lies on the other side of language? Por ejemplo: If a picture tells a story, does he expect me to understand what he is saying in the same way he does? If I take away my own, different meaning(s) from what I hear the picture telling me, it stands to reason I am no…
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an absence of badpeace is but a quiet mindexistence exhales
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A month. A week, day, hour. The moment that just passed. We all sit beside the Wishing Pool. Oh cool giver of sustenance! I'd drink from you if the taste didn't drive me to excess. Excessively expressed, no less. Mesmerizing ripples and profundity for nights on end. The wish to be heard when I don't…
Semi-Daily Scribbles 