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Tuesday, 04 July 2006
I am enveloping you.
To begin the day writing letters, a man of correspondence, sketching out paths and remedies within copied lines and remittent advice. So many points of focus these days, the locus of things spreading like ink. Root it in an physical movement, return from the non-figurative to the representative. Think concrete.
So those walls look like they wish to crumble, as much resolve as foundation. The squarecircle blurs. My resolve however, does not. Visitations and hauntings, splurges and retrievals, polyphonic foldback, the drop of voices, torn pages - all are there, held in pages and pages of application. Return to focus, circumference and aperture, move in upon the idea, stake it all upon the idea.
Possibly over to warehouses again later, not the one on the constant looping video but at the top of the hill. To photocopiers and postal revenue, the petit smudges and firmed watermarks not held within the tonal rendition but the organised frame of words, poems are paragraphs without punctuation, we present an argument.
Meanwhile, summer continues and the true sound of July continues unabated, urging in through the window crack. Men are digging the road.
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