down here in the dead ideas office we mark all your thoughts as read don’t be alarm’d it’s just routine most people’s are a waste of space & friday’s pay day so we slack off just a bit (long enough for a wink long enough for you to emote a hit or a telepathic experience…

incantations iv: I feel all my childood & its dreams in this video my father & his brothers & their seventies stereos: born into the space age watching all the menus collapse like when you plonk a person somewhere deep IN SPAAAAAACE! well, what does that make synthesisers, then – pop? billions of commenters on…

heya cometh everyboddeeee! right out of the sleigh: purring like honey from a see-through plastic bag! & the dread, the dead night-cruise drops its beats & sings ‘la la la la la la laaaaaaa’ like a lidl lamb! hey did i dream all of that? or are we all still here, shouting ‘ship to shore’…

just how did the moon stay magnetic? answer: something to do with the sea or the way the dolphin cow calls to her calf: a little click – there, maybe a whistle, every second or so, then a brief empty eternal moment before she echolocates that tiny response – whether far away or close -…

… my face on yr space (rule #1: clone tagging! the school for the too-cool, hispter-brew, squeaky shoes – taggin’ … ‘n’ braggin’! done tagging my place get into yr space-(acne) new tool, tru blue hood, flute reeds ‘n’ music sheet screeds wot i wrote, emo(t)! done tagging, so i’m tur(n)ing now to slaggin’ grange…

could i possibly be somewhere near you forever and a day or more if that’s okay? can i hide my face in your neck’s hollow or else just stand next to you on a bus? riding together for several happy stops, with our shoulders barely touching at all but somehow just there adjacent to each…