Trickster Tales

When dim-lit afternoons conquer the short passages of hesitant daylight, all colors’dl collapse into the sandy vision infused into the air. Air like sand. Daylight like sparkles hidden in lumps.

When the shortest of days feel like the longest nights, grayness of the scenery sucks out the waterfalls from the tubelike pillars of the mansion. Sandy showers instead of melting waterwalls.

When incessant drizzle turns into the monotony of crumbling sandy lumps, it seems that the whole world is overshadowed by the cloudy sparkling whisper withdrawn from the eye firmly attached to the page.

The page of the book of the city like a chimera of the erosion of the beam hidden, patiently  silent behind the seemingly domineering lumps. The page of the book as inviting as it gets. The name of the city as elusive and as captivating as the very mafotherphunkie guardian sparkle. Safely withdrawn. Safely silent. Lacy blizzard.

Lacy blizzard like distant orbits. Like the language one can understand and speak, but not the narrative : the poetics of the remix.

When dim-lit afternoons seem to have conquered the echo of the freshness of the brisk morning air, all colors’dl dissolve into the uncompromising resistance to linguistic crutches. Toddlers know better.

as if a ninety-nine year old could be a toddler. a toddler knows better. lacy mafotherphunkie blizzard.

The driveway, embraced by the lawn of what used to be the color of mustard invigorated by the shade of spring grass freshness, leaning towards the rich nuance of the amber summer days whose intensity feels almost corrosive to the melting-susceptible greenery, quietly looks away from the steely wind ceiling. Quietly pouring its melancholy glance over the grassy surface, protectively overarching its restless stems. Tendril shields whispering the tales of trickster absence. Comforting whisper of the sites unseen.

lacy blizzard : the poetics of the remix : not the narrative, but the language one can understand and speak.

as if it cast look over the driveway not yet entirely accustomed to the newly acquired unshakable stability underneath the quirky oscillations between reluctance & ease / restlessness & unburden, the mansion smiles at the shadow the branches playfully sprinkle the grass with.

i got a glimpse of it as one continues naming the laceness of blizzard / the blizzardness of unshakable mafotherphunkie laceworks / i got a glimpse of it as one continues to disambiguate desertlike waterfalls / drought wallrivers from ye branchstyling mafotherphunkie playfulness / i got a glimpse of it when one continues to realize simultaneously with the playfulness of the trees : likephunkofdaphunkiemafotherphunkiephunk!

not the narrative, but the language one can understand and speak : the poetics of the remix.