Actions Speak Louder Than Words
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Breeze Way Cloister
We listened to it with Her once before ... Wind there with us ... Cool round soft stones under feet ... where shadows of rooftops meet open air ... on both sides ... We walk, think, pray ... take the shell of the drone on the floor ... Repetition of the arches is architecture doing what Chaplet of The Divine Mercy rosary does during Lent ... Crawl through the bed and stop at another old conversation ... Die? ... No ... We have not said a word ... that keeps it from becoming sealed ... and The Ground is space where we walk in contemplation ... and the second-hand air is with us always ... Bridge walked through repetition until Her body arrived at a line of open doors.
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Hyphen Enfilade Lips to Mouth
We're losing our beautiful garbage smiles ... while we're losing our sense of humor ... Hyphen ... holds a relationship without merging what's on either side ... Matches took smoke rings ... and ... An enfilade stands at one end and can see through every threshold at once ... Room after room ... on and on what seemed like forever ... A single sight line running through walls that could have stopped us but didn't ... Every chamber is private until the doorways line up ... He's eating a book while losing Her musical appearance ... The moon of the night betrays us ... not literally ... Under the wearables lies sorrows of seasonal elements ... A front porch is the most American threshold there is ... Sitting there the street can plainly see us and we see a bicyclist riding down the sidewalk handlebar streamers and all ... Bridge screen door behind us is where the moistest fool exits ... Strangers and neighbors wave ... Weather of the day feels nice on the skin ... Formality collapses into the informality of our modest vestibule.
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La fou du Threshold Roji
Tell us where songs are blowing ... because that's where the wind is going ... Bottled fools ... of "La" feminine and "fou" masculine ... chop chop ... right and wrong grammar ... "Le fou du roi" king's jester ... Thresholds comes from threshing ... He was our pigtail and neckless middle eye was Ranch Who ... Old passages for words ... strips of wood that kept the straw bored to death on the floor ... Sweetest noir melody pupil ... consciousness leaving out the swinging open windows ... One strand from another ... neither ... Roji is a Japanese dewy path leading to a tea house ... We feel like we know you but you're just a ghost to us ... Every stone placed to slow down transparent feet ... Every turn simplified the Widow of Lento ... By the time they reached the entrance we left everything behind ... Sipping beside shadows of temporary dew ... fools walk on the path to Faut ... The most contemplative passage Japanese culture ever designed is now being crossed by a madman whose grammar doesn't even agree with itself ... Roji was built many centuries ago to prepare every fool's mind ... that separates one party from another ... gets an uplifting spirit that belongs to neither ... Tell us about glory to unload this story ... La fou du puts French in front of Japanese ... Multilingual garden ... Nothing but ... ending at a fortress wall ... ending at a fortress wall ... ending at a fortress wall.
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je postern suis Oculus Chairs Riot
Je suis ... we are basic convictions ... Sentenced to life in a secure state ... federal facility ... short-term confinement for unlawful punishment ... no space to move ... no clean food to eat ... no untainted water to drink ... Don't mention the steam that was left behind on the rail track ... From a car wreck became the back of a deep valley ... Postern is a small back gate in a fortress wall ... it's how to exit during a siege ... how supplies enter without the enemy seeing them ... it's a secret door ... every castle has one ... je postern suis was absent from the show including spinning plates ... An oculus is a round opening at the top of a dome ... the Pantheon has the most famous one open to the sky ... Because it has no glass rain falls through it onto the floor ... an Oculus is a kind of eye that never closes ... inside space sees upward through it ... Middle eye cracked open ... inserted onto space between self and God ... Our second fragment with broken La fou du had poor grammar ... This one has a fortress and a temple between ... we are ... and ... family of kindred interests in shambles ... made of something ... Charity can do all of it in.
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Flying Babilonia Clerestory Jube
How the dream became Was ... Remember all the Had ... Concrete material ... Stoned wood ... Poured forms set in terrifying misery ... You as a child aging gracefully apologizing occasionally ... It is what it is ... Flying high as a structured gluteus maximus leaping frog pushing weight sideways ... Could you begin to like air so frugal that walls of a diner decided to never go on another date ... Between tall buildings Babilonia or maybe a Babylon vegetable garden suspended above the ground ... and a tower where God sprinkled texts ... So ... no one could follow through ... in the city ... Clerestory opaque painted church windows above eye level ... nave filled with illumination that has no visible source viewed from the floor ... This is where we dreamed of us ... Jube screen between congregation and altar ... domine benedicere ... Lord blessings spoken permeable ... Music and light passing through and words passing over a wall that delivers nothing ... Will they take care of in proximity ... where languages scatter admitting shadows from holes ... that let modern brutalists uproot there and over there obliterations ... Corners of a conscious form can make everything equal.
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One Square Talking Rose Lujon
One ... Square no hierarchy ... equal sides of a shape ... One ... Honest no angles ... One ... Gossip no singing or performing ... One ... Chattering instead of writing ... One ... People talking who aren't heard by anyone else ... One ... Great circular stained glass window panels tell a Story about Rose ... One ... Passages speak with smells of a killing field ... One ... And sound of lederhosen hanging from a slaughter hook ... One ... Lujon instrumental metal pedal ... One ... Plates over a paralyzed foot resonating something curious ... One ... Stiff plastic shoe boxes ... One ... We strike and the sound doesn't come from a swell ... or under a liberty bell ... One ... Smears radiating a lit segment about under shorts ... One ... Scored briefly ... One ... Rising from a Barnes and Noble sidewalk sandwich board ... where a Chanson piano song meets Rodney Dangerfield ... One ... Sandwich board toppled ... One ... body behind it started farted.
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Hey Restless Rode Mash Rabies Hunt
Restless body ... that won't stay ... Hey look at us ... Rood Cross rode out ... through ... past tense of ride ... Spell shifting ... How do you do that? ... ahh ... ahh ... ahh ... ahh ... ah ... To the heat get up on your arms joke ... mash rabies ... lattice screen covering a window so those of us inside can see out but the good people in the street cannot see in ... Set our wheels on fire ... give it up with glass and grace ... Miles Tageh Thurr ... Bent grass, broken branches ... This must be a segment that came from our voice ... Upstart ... restless bodies rode through screens that control what passes between slight rudeness and ordinary blessings ... Stony and sandy ground ... what are you going to do when the Romans stomp all over you? ... Both crawled like an infant under an upside down deck.
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gilla rotta ah ... Gang Deck Insensible Shaft
gilla rotta ah ... Dumb dumb waiter kitchen floor ... carrying fruits and vegetables that don't speak ... serving in silence ... Gangway shore to ship ... farm to table between compartments ... a coming and going ... Not a destination but act of moving between land, ocean, land again, and belongings ... gilla rotta ah ... On Deck Stand foreign boards under a clear sky ... The sea is us ... gilla rotta ah ... And we can't see it through bamboo planks ... Everything that's holding us up here is hidden underneath ... We're brightly exposed above and sealed below ... gilla rotta ah ... Without sensation ... insensible ... below thresholds of feeling ... Not numb by choice ... our bodies stopped registering ... Change so gradual it can't be detected while it's happening ... A shaft cut through solid material ... Elevator ... Ventilation ... Earth opening column of emptiness straight down and up ... gilla rotta ah ... It will not negotiate with anyone ... Gang, deck, shaft ... these words often remove the life from voices ... Body being carried through a gangway ... dropped down into the vessel ... gilla rotta ah ... Keep functioning Man ... gilla rotta ah ... This is the ground where the work continued when the worker couldn't ... A cross of sorts held us up and exposed us to a fog of devastation and insane hope ... gilla rotta ah ... kept us between levels and layer.
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Cage Companion Sky Way gil day Promen Nay
Companionway ... passage between levels carries memories of sailors and slaves who in dreams broke bread together at tables ... Blood moon sky no screen ... Opening to Gil ... a narrow rocky ravine cut by water through mountain stone ... Caged voice music love thrown out ... Carved over centuries spelling out ghyll and harsh land throat nodules ... Day women nade light skylark brrd ... we crawl to witness spots and lines that point ... Walk slowly a boulder just dropped a body down a mine shaft ... What dropped down that berceuse came up as bravo chair ... encore ... encore ... encore.
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Flue Crawl va itchy Kiwan Uka Love
Into your noir backside ... Flue chimney blindfolded to legally blind ... heat rising through invisible ink renderings of upward air ... To be by the physics of what's burning below waste of warming calculations ... Never clean ... Swallow de vague ... us as sparrow ... Crawl to the small stand under the treehouse ... between a wall hole and tush ehh tushy(i) body reduced to fit ... Bark ... We move forwar on our chest, belly, quadriceps, knees ... Iron skillet strapped for holding ... SOS fireworks flashes inside of earth soil pipes ... va itchy Kiwan meeting ... skin surfaces that won't settle ... demanding attention ... When the going gets irritated ... the same way "La fou du" and "je postern suis" were opened up ... then smashed into tiny pieces ... The messenger arrived and slammed a Siamese protester to the ground ... Very disturbing ... Also ... such uncomfortable language ... Honesty heard near Kiva's underground pueblo ... Uncertain ceremonial chambers shifted quickly from Hopi pride to Uka shame ... We would love to invent another companion for carrying relative roots ... A letter was dropped ... The end, for now.
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West World Kerry Four Leaf Clover Tunnel Crossing
Run Solis Pahh without the stack of love letters ... Something has been dropped that intended to hold weight while moving ... The burden has been ... fold into soft arms untethered ... Close to a quarry place where stones are cut by flowing water ... leaving animal shapes behind as dashes of lines ... Run agua shed ... carry the current to watermill water wheels ... Ours is the courtyard distance with moss covered flagstone stairs ... Come into our ashes and cold steel arms ... every movement has gentle forces behind it ... Not walking and choosing because gradients insist ... Comme espair solis generative belonging to the Spirited wonder of these unique light sources ... Tongue, mouth, ground ... Share the roots of day lily bulb exhalation ... Pahh night ... ultra month of sorting and casting things aside ... No colonial phrases ... Can we breathe a lot better in shade or Sun's blank sky bright light ... or in between both atmospheres ... Water and rays streaming together between two tunnel passages cut through rock ... Shaft ... ah ... slow down and take a nap in these soft arms ... We enter light, lose it, get it back ... Proof that anything emptied out can return and nourish again ... Crossing a border where direction changes ... leaving one region and entering another ... Heavy breathing mosaic fragments moving through underground ... to the canary ... Before the tunnel swallowed all of the light ... and left crooked verbs and nouns standing.
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Between Kiva and Sipapu Hyperactive Corridor Parfait
To be layered ... energetic ... and immortal ... Not ... we are ... opened up ... je postern suis ... The verbs before this found a Vivian Willows state of being without a desert burner claiming it ... yet ... Billy Dupp was stripped of his most viable question ... Not with a milk and honey temperature ... served as a tall whipped Joli noir waltz ... waiting for Kiva's underground ceremony ... Entering from above through a hole in a bonded refuge chamber ... down a primitive ladder ... downward into the layers of the earth as a type of subtraction ... Bunker dug out not built ... Sipapu is a corridor where kindreds emerge not symbolic of any iconic ancestors ... Personal separate ... Connecting rooms of servers has no purpose except to deliver us horizontal to somewhere yet unknown ... Not a nervous system sprinting with signal fires ... Still Quietness wants us to descend to between Kiva and Sipapu ... One ... No bed in the room and several sheets on the floor.
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de Swoon Wickiup Stilt weir Kiss and Makeup
Can we go from enemy to ally again? ... de preposition of belonging ... standing alone ... Prefix taking things apart ... waiting for a descent, removal, undoing ... Stop being such a harsh judge and critic ... swoon body giving way ... Blood drops vision narrows ... gilla rotta ah ... sacred ground and sea receives us as ashes ... Wickiup ... landscape bent into shelters ... Temporary by design built in a day then left behind ... Not permanent walls ... Stilts raised above the ground ... Mother Nature's floor the air ... Water and earth passes underneath and the dwelling for the deceased never touches it ... What holds the body up is visible and real ... No hidden foundation ... Every stilt house refuses to sit on what's below it ... Weir(y) lets everything through but nothing flows the same way it arrived ... the river on the other side of a weir(y) is the same tributary at a different speed ... Start forgiving the swords and missiles of war ... Rope cuts ... Her binding too ... Whatever was held could not escape ... When binding ends and what was fastened drifts together ... in fainting finds the Wickiup ... Built fast left behind raised on stilts above a weir(y) that transforms without blocking ... de swoon of de wooz ... belonging to all that is able to surrender ... Let's break bread together ... This part of the loaf has passion that is settled.
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Falaj Fogón Bark Rainbow and Wreck
Let's listen more carefully to our enemies ... Falaj ... ancient water channel system of Oman and the Arabian Peninsula ... Water carried from mountain springs through underground tunnels ... and above ground channels to settlements in the desert ... Gravity does the work ... One ... No pump or engine ... The water moves because the land tilts and someone centuries ago understood the tilt very well ... The passage is the water's path ... and the community lives because the passage exists ... Fogón ... hearth ... Where raw becomes cooked ... cold becomes warm ... Start forgiving the swords and wreckage ... Not a passage word until you hear it next to a falaj and fogón body ... Water moves through and makes heat ... What it carries arrives more alive ... Another warm blooded body carrying its young ... Bark skins between living wood and our weather ... Cracking, peeling, thickening ... Scars ... Everything that has happened to the tree is written on the bark ... A dog bark is the sharpest alarm an animal can make ... Kiss and makeup absurdly holds cargo space below the deck of a ship ... Where everything is in darkness ... To keep and to carry without letting go of a pause ... Wait ... Stay right where you are ... Water moves by gravity through ancient channels to a hearth where fire makes raw things edible ... Falaj feeds Fogón as a vessel carrying hugs ... Water finds its way without a pump ... When the water stopped for a minute, our arms went in to touch the muck ... limnic sediment.
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Digging Through Gran Cambium Crust
Where should we go from entering place? ... Her ... You made me a smile ... They mixed for us the best chemistry for tears ... Bare hands push into the mound ... just pressure into granular material that gives way ... So near is the pyramid ... So far away are the fun times we had ... A dig is a remark that can cut through a body ... Let the metallic melancholy go ... leave us ... Cambium living layers inside a tree between bark and heartwood ... one cell thick becoming new growth inward and outward ... the thinnest biological passage in all of Creation ... everything depends on it staying alive ... Colors from inside a rice rain stick will be waiting behind the door ... Sexy pinkish mauve Mesa Caline O door ... Shame is in your secret ... in your pocket ... in your drab olive green sports car ... Barnacle cements itself to whatever it touches and never releases ... Riding on hulls, rocks, pilings, and whales ... Mother Earth crust ... Holy Bread crust ... Wounds of Humanity crust ... What forms on a surface when insides meet outsides and harden ... Hands dig through crust past arthropods that adhere to surfaces ... arrive at a living layer one cell thick where everything is made ... Ode to those wonderous layers breaking through bark praising what's underneath ... One cell thick and one fist from breaking through.
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Geode Punch Through Grips Bamboo Pole
Magi crown of a bridge is drowning ... Top of the raintrees are swimming ... Crowds of canopies whispering ... Punch through a fist to make a new hole ... Marigold sewing hanging onto a trailer ... There it is ... the big sacred river going by slow as fists tighten ... Nobody said it was going to be built to honor so much loss and mending ... Nails test a chain link fence to fit a child's body through ... Chummy ripples of waters ... here comes the wildfire flames over a shadows and light melody ... Brittle silt pages turned ... Between separate bedding planes was stoned groundwater trickling ... then oasis of mud and tar ... Compacted soft dreamtime remembering ... Outside ... dramatically rough amethyst ... inside ... a smooth cavity filled with special mineral water ... Rocks opened and we had nothing to say ... gilla rotta ah ... Here comes another bamboo fish pole stream ... Frost counted backward on a pattern of lines.
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Shiny Coat of Sea Loon moi Rapture zzz zzz zzz
Fly the salty storm ... see them soar as they glow ... over the pale blind ... one short ... Our practice never claims to be complete ... In Islamic tradition there are ninety-nine names of God and the hundredth name is unknown ... A magpie collects shiny stuff in our garden ... Stepping away means laying down glimmering light that attracts eyes ... Pic zoo dot pee aye ... Cotton fabric covers bodies from head to toe ... Seed membranes surround all protections ... Ink layers applied over waves of surfaces changes what it smells like underneath a noir waltz ... A nook is usually the smallest enclosed space in a castle ... That grand corner or fine cranny that recedes ... place to not be found ... what's left when a larger room isn't paying attention to all of the edges of its features ... A nook passage into privacy barely qualifies as a place to hide ... We don't write romantic poetry anymore ... Not a subject performing or anything we felt was deliberately left behind ... Self as an object being addressed and examined closely ... Je postern suis discovering remains ... Surprises ... like acts of erasure crossed out scratched ... Parenthetical "S" makes it singular and plural ... mark our words ... collected and tucked into a crossed-out magpie box under a seed coat ... Every tired touch legible ... Then what was read couldn't be touched anymore.
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Oculus Fuit Loss and Healing Voyage of Prophets Openness
Small changes ... nothing ... none ... no one ... no counting or reaching for something ... Ninety-nine arrived as med()evil misspelled ... A fully disguised elder woman escaped from a canonical hour enclosure ... near where Christ once slept in a tent ... Nothing holds prayer of life after death ... Dom ... stripped to three letters ... What's left when The Holy Spirit is removed from every modern space ... Middle eye of prophets will always wait for us ... Letter Forms ... Trash ... Characters ... Garbage ... Extra Beginnings ... Materials thrown away then found years after ... What Mother Earth discards now recognized as raw and more alive ... Everything manufactured reclaimed ... Misidentified to identified rejects ... Where oyparaploo language perseveres as a life journey ... Provisions not measured by distance ... but what we pack and carry ... Then Roji ... Kiva ... Sipapu ... Cambium ... Geode ... at a passage that belongs to Maid of C'est ... Sweet Noir shadow song ... Personal ... Singing from a bright desert prison Ahh Fuit ... Fugere ... piles of documents with redacted names ... teacups held between a red and white striped military table and worship house altar ... Sound of tall coastal dry grass scented tongues ... Hallelujah big river poured into the southern gulf ... The air after ... The wind that had been with us from the beginning held still ... What's the name of your vessel? ... The Omnism Grail.
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Actions Speak Louder Than Words · Final · April 7, 2026
Three orchestral passes complete
Oyparaploo · Twin Cities · Wonderful Garbage · Noir Song
For the love of The English
