Whirlwind Records Sampler Tracklist: A Response
1. as if reprogramming were possible
2. crisis sounds no slackening
3. stable bass in its old scrape
4. looms thin as royalty
5. an unconvincing radio show
6. this party only happens in code
7. spring signs itself slow
8. marks breaks in hard waves
9. majestic extinction’s wingbeats
10. up the monotone slopes
11. only shapes are glorious
12. calling once and once and once
13. our angles flee and reconfigure
14. beneath a broad belly of green
15. shape hopes to a low horn
16. the re-education in opposition
17. held between dim hands
Shuffle as required
Tumbling down the rabbit hole, lights out
And I remember I am not my mother —
Arms out straight in this darkness, the switch
Is a brutal one: on/off sane/insane
The voice I hear belongs to a stranger
She is a lonely angel; how have I never
Accepted her? Each night: a knife to her
Throat; each day… a gloss veneer Continue reading “Breathing Underwater by Amanda McLeod and Elisabeth Horan”
The Text
Eventually, I will join myself in absence. “Living among things designed to dispossess me.” I watch TV at my father’s house. A future stratified by the “logical extremes” of “extrapolation, spectacle, virtualization, and ‘entertainment.’” The poor of us are less than bodies – data dredged by fetishists, exploiting flesh through pixels with the polarity of water. Color dissolved in hair and skin, motion frozen and screen-grabbed. “A self-deforming cast.” I’m watching Epix – Epix Hits. Passive, like my, titillation – flaccid and cumless, edging le petite mort through RPGs and online banking. My reality colloids apart. Under a sun of milk and flour. I try absorbing language in order to feel heavier, but “everything flows… no… …thing to sink.” Without seeing the screen one only sees a prolapsed glow, splattered on the wall, across the floor. The blue light referencing abandonment. The face no longer clings viscid when split-open. Employ a digital cenotaph while I look for my body. Maybe language. Maybe language. If I can absorb it. It dissolves. Continue reading “The Text in Various Forms by Bryce Jones”
BURNING HOUSE PRESS 