Kimball (4)

Jack Kimball

Decapitation without

Depth of severance, it seems timely you say.
A peed-on head & advances
in grief, timely too, a back-roiling, cosmic duet. When you arrive, eh,
the bel canto barbarian looks stong, but only when bound within many
kinds of dance, I say, kiss him, neither man nor apparatus de-evolved
beneath recursive cells, and not any nervier than if I position the
fair day above hole B over the entrance to hole A, and drop in a sleetball.
Something swanky falls after, all the way through A, comes out B where
it then drops into A again, and continues, swallowing you faster as it
falls forever. Still.

If the losers in A can’t draw end on end and
gulp by themselves, and if
they strike you as hedging, so conserved, rather, then untie them and
have at physical “third” equivalences depending on a bright “Cantor
diagonalization” — that’s the really pretty sleet in the bubblewrap
described by areal Cartesian x-y-zs. Here. Try reimaging (imagining?)
an exited light bent around us even now, the unilluminable and more: there
are no counterparts to this in/or us, except the mix of tidal stoppers
and stopper moons at the fringe in black, an organic hedge, toeprints
and months.