from the notebook (Italian section of Primitive Pianos)

21st November 2010

Pancakes provide solidity. Syrup is my get-up. Rain drips from the light swinging from a wire in the centre of the street. The bora is returning. My bum is cold please close
the window.

Hello world hello
i've tried to re-up
my realities
are short lived
i've not lived
a story

Mew is playing on my broken headphones. Have you met someone have you touched
the bottom? My stomach is regaining its flora and fauna. This is November 21. It's time to switch the station. Often I am permitted to return to a made place that is mine enfolded in all thought wherefore fall all hosts. A disturbance of words within words whose secret we see often. I can't believe your hands are so cold. I can't believe you're still playing this game.

Hello home
you are being
oh so very

swimming to the sound of clouds my partner does headstands in the front room with
a golden retriever. she is listening to something on her headphones. last night I dreamt of a snake. I had to enter the basement of a building to find my lost clothes. The basement was flooded. My clothes were on the other side of the river. A snake coiled into a U
covered both sides of the river. This is my ego. I dove in without clothes and the snake squeezed me. I sank. I awoke.

tiny bird brain