pigment the figment

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…discussing the “non-memory” theory in dreams and being cut off…a port of call with old friends….introductory rambles…conversations ended before completion by events….trying out “non-memory” relationships in dreams

“non-memory” does not mean amnesia…it is relating on recognition patterns for survival….there is no self or mind with its makeup bag of memory identity…I rewrite my past with everyone I meet, in the present….

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as hard consonants elide into softer ones, galaxies disappear, thought energy dissipates, nicht and nacht become night and new speakers cannot believe or conceive in these silences, these markers of history, of trade and treading, new variations of old paths. We hold the silence in our mind’s eye and frame it technologically, pigment it’s figment, it stands solid as a gravestone, yet unpronounceable, like the visual apprehension of “other” tongues, like Gaelic, where as well as  silent constructions, skeletal, lexical voids, there are strange sounds, dissociation, phonetic aspirations that defy our “upbringing”

we grow here as pioneer colonists of teachings, filling our own brown fields of post construction…readying the way, the path, the treading for access before the stranglehold of the macrocosm consumes us in our own mind….we almost speak silences, with voices in our bodies….accommodating, hosting their inscription into our flesh of awareness…

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at this pivotal point…all is possible, all is impossible, neither good nor evil….being flows through being….giving RISE TO…

lost in language, new hybrids cling to footholds, but in more fluid surroundings, they float and melt into freer associations, fulfilling ancestral pulses and rhythms… you can tell by the way I walk, what ground I think I walk on…. my tread, my trade… all relationships subsumed to this elemental cartography and mapping, this tracking device I am, geographically triangulated into being and existence by external plays…

this proto-religion, binding travellers to a track, a path, this walk through life, in order to situate relationships, here the mysteries are mysteries…the unspoken script of silent tongues….harpocratic, arretic….go OUTSIDE and be WON OVER

 

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