Plotinus Plinlimmon

Friday, January 13, 2006



Smoky brick.


Panty line.

End of the side.

Thursday, January 12, 2006

Or, The Simplicity of Vision.

Not far from the light, below below - below.

Charity will take you only so far, no father, no farther, I meant.

I wrote lost instead of love, I guess I knew what I meant, some one knew, whether it was I is another question.

"Whenever I speak, I speaks," says some one, I think, if I have it right, if I have met the standard of identity which is called for in the performance of a successful instance of citation.

This century we learned we were told by our errors. Or was it the century just past, my mind's rusted. (Seated with a friend she told me not to trust those learned & unangelic doctors.)(Who picked my mind in whispers.)

A friend with a traveler's beard showed me the images of the ruins of Roman Palmyra. This was you'll forgive me months ago, I am always late with news.

I got in the habit of writing letters, which were unfortunately always to myself.

Now if you have sought horses keep walking, they found this country to their liking as though they had never left it.

All these tunes sound the same, is it true or do my ears lack training, do I like or must I learn to like or do I lack and must I learn to lose my lack or like it, which, what'll avail against this travail, tryall, tempest in a tureen?