messages buried fate preparing a hangover,
forgot to sleep whenever she got back
cut-up no. seven
repertoire of expressions
find something to puzzle over
one last look
no need to apologize
cut-up no. nineteen
lap-sense of a
goofy, thickly wooded road–
peace in chaos
on the floor, purring
cut-up no. eleven
debris power station,
cordial mendicants,
pancakes, and fruit parfaits
cut-up no. eight
days as a sliver
thick clouds, green little peace lily
always in motion
always the same
cut-up no. six
I always thought I would come back
to the devolving mode
I was wondering over the intervening century’s
flickering candle flame
sensory experience surrounds
short, cropped hair
cut-up no. fifteen
the impression of breadth
hand-described the inclination towards nothingness
in paradox lust
cut-up no. eighteen
eating weather whenever
cactus water potions
mystery circles
studies plateau.
pump the breaks!
confusion is a must–
fences remember
dangerous
grapefruit
cut-up no. four
the raised dominant turns back to its original form
a convenience-sake view of prevailing world conditions, events, and existence in general–
he looked like a mechanical engineer
direct, intuitive insight into transcendental truth beyond all intellectual conception
the cut-up technique
I’m ashamed to say I’ve had an “experimental” literature blog for over a year and have yet to do any cut-ups.
Well, that’s not entirely true. I write one every day and choose one I like at the end of the week. I’ve done this with my other poetry stuff. I started doing this with cut-ups at the beginning of September.
Normally, this isn’t pertinent information. In this case, the names are numbered. So, no, you are not “tripping,” there really are numbers missing.