gematria

gematria

some might think i am purposefully odd

because i sometimes assign num[b]er[s]ic 

concepts to letters. can i read your

digits? some nights i cant sleep. like

words are keeping me awake tonight.

all kinds of random words behaving

like cognizant quantum part[s]icles

and dancing outside of linear time.

they seem pointless yet interrelated.

death and depth are separated by one

phoneme. like tide and time. so close.

yet we pray for depth and whisper about

death. how would it feel? the texture of

words on my fingers. it seems too risky

to put one’s linguistic identity into an

arithmetic lexicon. its cliché. like

reincarnated rainbows transformed into

polygot integers that can only attempt

to describe chromatic iridescence. our

language is unstable. this is certain.

merging is now colliding. presence is now

absence. has a mathematical shift occurred

in linguistic process? could it be that this
gematria is a little bit correct?

some might think that i am irregular.

but it is not me that is falling apart.

i am actually connecting the dots one two

together. building [ ] mathematically.

JANEisnotplain 12.9.10

art is sex

art is sex

this is foreplay. arousal stimulated by

flirtation of ideas and an exchange of

vulnerabilities in the language of pre-

verbal space.

i don’t have to speak again. i don’t

need to entertain at this moment. i

am intoxicated with the pitch, tone,

and composition of your rhythm.

violets tremble at the edge of glass

unbuttoning tongues and uncorking

breaths. lips wrap in throbbing lyrics.

fire alarms may sound.

don’t run. this is not a cliff it is a

platform. it is a very intellectually

intimate fucking of [  ] senses. it is

the vernacular over easy.

[ ] art is sex. it has volume and velocity.

like a sweet and sugary cereal on sunday.

it is surprising just how little control we

have over something so elemental to us.

these vagabond rendezvous are like

secrets between silences. casualties

between catastrophes. i relish these

strange moments of [   ].

i am uncoiled between temptation and

trouble. i wonder, darling, if rain turns

to thunder or if, there was lightening in

the middle of the day could you stand it?

you kiss [  ] incrementally and unfold

soft affirmations as if still willing to

lay all mistakes at shaking feet and

outstretched charge.

to my left is a teacup. to my right is a

crucifix. ahead are tangled branches.

my fingers follow lines and form words

your jeans are nice. i like your [h]ips.

JANEisnotplain 12.10