Bike ride, September 28

Field strewn with glass.

Where's the trail?

Steel carcasses.

Plastic bags brought in by high water.

Detail of trail composition.

I guess I can't get across that way.

OCR issues

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Trip to the museum

A bear, historical photos and maps of the Texas Technological College and environs, an NC Wyeth, and some vampiricide. A successful Saturday!

First trail ride in Lubbock

Some photos from my first trail ride in Lubbock.

These trails are located on the east side of town, about 4 miles from my house:


The trails feature loose rock and sand, and some short, steep climbs. And twisty spots!











There is a sketchy pump track and some jumps.




On the way home. Skool's out for summer.




By some warehouses...




Under a highway...








And over a train yard. (I scared a woman on this bridge who said she didn't hear me because she was absorbed in singing and praying to the lord.)

Begoña Díez Sanz: "Combray"

[Original here]

I raised to my lips a spoonful of tea in which [ ]

How can I fix the extent

of love's most carnal expression,

of the beauty of bitmaps on my back

as I arch over your most bucolic, sonorous climax.

Each tile in your kitchen

was somehow illusory

[architectural fantasy of naked bodies on the kitchen table]

from the perspective of foam, everything was submersible

I made myself explicit in body and implicit as a function

of that whole cosmogony you used to penetrate me:

without wings, shields, or apples (...)

and even so, we were archetypes.

If Proust had seen us fucking,

your tongue would have lived on 

as the paradigm case of memory.

               An exquisite pleasure had invaded my senses, but individual, detached, with no suggestion of its origin [ ]

Erasures

Wave Books has a great space on their site where you can explore poems made through a process of selectively erasing words from existing texts. You can also do it yourself!

You can find it here: Erasures. (I think the save feature might be broken but you can still make poems for yourself and pdf them.) Here's mine:

his house

and the night there,

a dream, 

its comments and advice.

the moment,

it is a promise

to betray.

a gathering procession

charges him.

experience had condemned

impulse, love, and ardor

but the old poet

persuades him to enter.

"Extract from the Report SUGAR BLUES..." by Estíbaliz Espinosa

Extract from the Report SUGAR BLUES by Opia Z7 concerning the addictive activities of homo sapiens

marginal notes:

These humans are weird. How could I have fallen in love with them?
Investigate the Italian Dolci preziosi case.
Experience in own circuits the syndrome known by the scientific name Sugar Blues.

BAZAAR OF SWEET HUMAN THINGS COMMA THE LEGENDARY SUKKAR.

Whispering at night.
The feel of certain types of worn out china.
Staying asleep and avoiding the routine obligations that make us acceptable to society.
The sound of copious rainfall outside.
A dimly lit spot.
Chimps that don't mind their keepers.
Dumbo's mom.
Noticing someone staring.
The imaginary voice of Scherazade.
Strung-out junkies in very large cities.
An orgasming woman's neck.
Dragonflies inside a red Nestle's can.
The face of the Childlike Empress.
Lunch with curry smell.
Those swirly bits in Mahler.
Those little out-of-tune music boxes
Those Venezuelan culebrones.
Imagining Paleolithic people painting a cave.
Imagining Paleolithic people copulating because of me.
A girl playing in front of a mirror.
Honey that hangs from his lips without actually dripping.
"Considerando en frío, imparcialmente..."
Waking up every day, every day with a message from him.
The last flakes of a snowstorm.
Bloody Russian stories of Baba Yaga.
The first flakes of a snowstorm.
Naughty kittens.
Hair-dos in photographs of our ancestors.
Catching someone lying for someone else.
"Polar" malt soda.
The rotting of a flower on the grave of an epic hero.
Anarchists sitting in front of grafitti.
Your smile when you read this.
That masculine taste some call musky.
PJ Harvey's Angelene the prostitute.
Opening one's veins and bleeding to death.
Opiates.
Sappho.
The sugar blues when it's Sunday night and there's no message from him.
The sweet sound of your name.
The sweet slavery of one's drives.
The sweet coldness of the galaxies.

(my translation)

[from zoomm textos biónicos]