Coming in from Loucivennes (plagiarist poem #2)

Coming in from Loucivennes.... He could say no more. At the bar there was such a crush that the liquor ran out three times and emergency rations had to be rushed in by a squad of four flying lushes. Boy, did she hit the ceiling. Why get up and repeat yesterday’s song and dance? Once I did it and she got a butcher knife and chased me out of the apartment. Research is also required, apart from music, into instruments and appliances which, based upon special combinations or new alloys of metal, can attain a new range and compass, producing sounds or noises that are unbearably piercing. They no longer live here. The last two demands were hard to meet for Moscow. My fingers clawed the grass. I put his shoes on (for him). This put Israel outside of Iran’s own definition of its sphere of influence. Here, the chosen individuals, sometimes specially fed to be restored to their physical normality, were subjected to long immersions in freezing water. Through the continuous development of machinic labour, multiplied by the information revolution, productive forces can make available an increasing amount of time for potential human activity. Jack Arthur happens to be one of the most delightful producers in Hollywood. You dreamed of an octopus. What would they do after that? She figured it was one of her regulars. There are only weeks left, she thought. They read, they look out of the window at the sky… I didn’t think I would let things happen just as she had arranged. She was something, Sky was. “Well, you can today.” “It’s true. They were lovely.” Or maybe he would not have to find a job; he was pleased to hear the poet say he was writing a novel. How stripped of sanctity, wrote V. S. Naipaul, when a room, once intimate, becomes mere space. The editors will share with their readers some knowledge that the readers do not possess. And to this question they have only one answer; yes

Portraits

Eleonora

Tania

Eleonora

Memories of a Disrupted Flow of Energy (chapter 9)

9: Weidemann

When I try to remember my childhood, all I can see is a picture of a firefighter running into a burning forest with a plastic watering can.