f r o m n o v a s u i t e, i v, p a r t 4
S T A N D A R D S C H A E F E R
Demons orbits above and all that remains is bastions of access, rarely
accesible even through experiment or another blow to the head.
Drones in the imagination -- an event in the extreme.
Their commotion, luster -- as a kind of loneliness, bulky robes over the
Just a fibrillation (2).
The demons becoming comets knocking against the head.
Drink one and you shall see -- milk is pavement (3).
It pins you down as stars go out.
Pinpoints (4) are limousines slinking across the sky.
To distrust them is simply to imitate at a gradually reduced speed.
And reduced to the point where all one listens for is the music
Is the music rivaled only by spin.
(2) Not a conception of time wasted.
© crossconnect 1995-1999
published in association with the
university of pennsylvania
kelly writers house