Composer :: Guitarist :: Improvisor
...empty spun-sugar shibboleth...
we also shape-shift at a distance
"Something understands," breathes the screen
...most of Us...
"Colors," he says to the screen's black lattice
i wanted to fly from the roof and i fell
...the string grids of excavators searching for weathered bone
...small dull smears of meditative panic
...and try to become the Light?
-but uh well you see sputter of burning insect wings-
...the shifting jelly of heads looming over your little face
what the machine understands about you doesn't actually mean anything to it
dead on the surplus blankets
I Am\Never Was
Mal de Coucou
Towards a Diagnostic Touch