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An Open 12

by Wetdryvac's Lair

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1.
Loop and Cache wattle fell in, dust where mortar had been, settled where cloud began rain where sparrows ran, wings where feathers fan, rainbow dwindled water to solder to crystal, dip and spin dappled, clever and clever where never a window had been, where never sin nor leisure go where naught but crest and cackle stow there sun be-spectacled casket peck, peck, pecking at the thews in limned actuation, gauze not fit for gazing where people began, where turgor’s been where armistice and violin – so rolls the burden rolls the song, rolls the penance ‘er along none see the wound for weeping
2.
Transverseal Lessen it’s a balancing penny, copper under the tongue how these transactions come, that the shotgun isn’t intended thus sprint and disconnect, drawn incorrect by the kick, burned hand left butterflied three inches from the end of the steel, reverse shot cross-blocked butt-stroke pass from block, bleeding right flutter on trigger survival at one hundred twenty-one pounds is doing it wrong fugue-dream closer, lead cast knobs tick-ticking behind the roar when heart clears 200, I see flick of the target slot, one of many, and next, and next and – the child I was dreams in the head of I am secure-tape somewhere catching the wind that I might see again this dream, where down is aliens reflecting from walls run up, rotate, kick, dark with everyone-in seared skin only memory this dream, the adversary’s joints – a him – ignore shoe-worn conditions disarm to print, infighting – I’m taken when toe-pulls-trigger long gun’s transverse shot enters top of head disassociates, redirects through neck, breaks collar bone on exit frustrated dead, this missed thing – reminding hard of shiny palm reflecting plastic-cracked clear run, set down gun, stand ready dead a thousand’s times, still steady-faced doubt the only distance and behind the penny’s taste, every hand in which it’s been ever-loved face’s grin, every enemy they let within closer to keep, terrarium overlay of glass and velum, one within one within one self-keep in life again, stickler and trade, flicker and fade transact upon fleeting interim, begun in – this dream where heart clears 200, I see sticks of the tactical plot, strategic memory lot that dead again is still becoming, grin and reverse the target slot click wound closed or leave it open, confusion’s absolving drift thick, and thicker still the rift between here and penny’s refraction sifted, closely shifted – heart clear, I see
3.
Death Ground 02:10
Death Ground to stand and fight when one has no choice defines one has no choice that one might of simple life make rape, make killing, say – oft mine own choice taken from me, I lay my hand upon my enemy tear from them their eyes, their throat, claim driven and unto death so drive my enemies from me, lay claim to my lack of laying claim that I might not even have my own, in self, in comrade, in arm instead be shallow wight, ghost of act, willed spiritless spit upon the wind what howls beyond my threshold, say – I have no thresholds, and not my own, am enemy – so clarity let us be – my killings were my own, my enemies my own my will that drove the bone between their broken pieces solely my volition death’s ground careful chosen, where mine own will drove it be no lies between us, neither you, nor I, nor enemy where fierce you would claim will, I claim incision surgeon to mine own manifest, cut clean of my own infestation each error mine assessed, accepted, or missed perhaps – but still mine own I am my own threshold, and of mine own, am entity – be what you will, but claim it still and gated gain self-sanctuary and breached of will, and broken still, bestir thine own self, know the breach and sundered seal the fracture, where mortar leaches close and powders tuck point and rest, for still in any be broken – solid will does ghost and kiln be it mine, or yours, or any – whose stance resets, and staggered still states – this ground here is mine for killing, or this ground here for waiting patient waiting, chosen still, claim with no need of claiming threshold I am, and gated still – seek breach and gain mine enmity –
4.
How Each A Warning last warning was overlay, dry-eyed scratching, some house-memory where my grandmother’d been curious white-walled rooms, battle continuing behind the gauge of steel sheeting, behind vent-work one road between rooms, ducts between my sealed plaster and the popular out-of-doors tippy-steps without carpet runner somewhere in memory, overhead lights from white dome to gray gift-tapped memories these, structured well within berm, of a room’s serpent mound, of a hum old people gone to wire, where wire brings to a room – that one could lift an old lamp, check circuit in background Geiger hiss, no clicks, just hydrogen intent, androgen enmity, somewhere in here find presence by changing conductance position, wrap right hand flutter sixty times per second where the dead have been one simply lays in awareness, conduces perchance intrusion looks stupid, waving an antique brass and wire, blind-sword sticking – everyone in? last warning wasn’t clarity, snicking comfort of cold iron somewhere beyond horse-hair skim-coat faces unsown, simply waiting, known never a hair nor tolerant brow, lamp-wire weft, waft tincture peeling awareness back one dyed scratch at a time, plenty here, plenty – intruder and lyre in form edges faded thus, that light cast becomes wristed position, brass hum revision of space it’s in becomes monochrome source without color or flavor, intent by the measure – and measured intent where knob and tube have been, ceramic fingers laced tight within, gaze upon walkers’ old tired eyes balance is here, balance is here, disturbance towards edges – and then dreamer gains seeing old ghost in the tenor, in casting long lightning, where gauges colloid between solder and steel condition annealed in carbon and copper, circumspect copper – and stick with the pin, baling and all foolish seeming at last, but breaking the trap in corrosion and glass – is everyone in? last warning was parity, difference, and valence clean vale have care – the worlds arranging
5.
Round Mushroom Garden could I but dream awaking, shaking shell I would of this cold suffering, breaking hell strident test in formless toil, torus bell breach klein’s magnetosphere, aural gel where but for breaching well are saved and thus for breaching well are saved could I but wake this seeming, flowered dell my blood in this caul’d offering, trenching well trident stressed in whirled boil, wrenching swell beach mine’s the singing weir, aura dwell where but for stitching well are saved and thus for beaching well are saved could I but dream awaking, where I fell
6.
Surviving Ruination encumbered, one supposes, by ancestral observation faith recedes to a matter of time, differing with one's befores spawning one's afters, derivation I used to believe in beautiful things all aspects fractal conglomerate, foremost witnessed sections near-sealed filed ticks and interspersion, shist ruin rooted equally to radon's gasp and granite underlay, purples and greens in crystal swinging to each thread, this-a-way slumbered, one supposes, by polyhedral legacion wraith succeeds to a spatter of whine, rotary quick, quick cutting engorged in one's masters, relations I used to shrieve most delicate palms curtailing lines, once for each psalm, back-awards to one near-wielded vital flame intrusive, quartz rhythm and piezoelectric division Tenebræ done waxing cotton, nearly proof to weeping stinging to each weed, this-a-way lumbered, one supposes, by remaining graven braith soon bleeds to a speckle of wine, posterity slick and a blessing name from the nameless, un-naming I used to believe in beautiful things my names in my hands I'm becoming
7.
Lieder 00:36
8.
Eulogy Hasn’t Happened Yet that healing might as easily be a matter of blood and vapor trails particles of that which we’ve moved through, entrails and waste behind as it might be simply to lay one’s throat to the stone and spin bring the wheel round again in tremulous questing, valued, devalued impinges, bends the world-walls I can feel my hands flare, but the spasm is silent and awash in flowing over no through, change beyond change simply not a part of my system subsidence and walking on, black on the chin – I can see how vengeance became so popular lens effect without target impinges, creases sanctuary’s halls give me an enemy who’s done this that I might bite out their heart stand hissing, done this patient wait is not my thing breathing is a matter of remembering breath program with his head in my hand, and no sovereignty here these walls are not mine to bend where bending impinges leave architecture standing, stone upon stone and if you burn a little too at least you took no-one with
9.
Articulated Folds June 2, 2009 difficulty with swinging the hammer so much is that you get used to swinging the hammer sired cliché it is, and tired of finding nails in the old growth, where nails hadn’t been perhaps turning it in would make sense, were each day not at the forge, or pulling the wire braising in intricate turn, soldiering in stronger roots, tapping hydrogen’s three degree insistence homecoming requires home, making unwinds stasis, hand’s revolution from sling to spiral sting-set chiral elocution rung unto meal, patterning arm’s more-ray recursion thinner attention’s ten-o graph riddled entire, revision, revision, revision – and wire difficulty with folding the symmetry so much is that you get used by the folding welcome fired epiphany it is, inspired by inconsistencies in metal oath avenue, where pathways haven’t been perhaps Turing it would make incense, were each way not at the gorge, or plowing under rivers blazing wins reliquary burns, soldering against hammer-fall homes map-fissure, trapping out antigen’s 3 sine wing hum combing retires, dome taking up wind’s entasis stretch, furrow measured spline-handed sing tet-viral reclusion rungs onto metal, remorse’s cursed ion pattering armor, black-wet skin anodized and shadow ridden, rider, risen – earth hollow’s gown entire difficulty with entire gown hollow so much is that you get used to the empty entire grip back into its lean furlong, sewing delicate stippled mercury seed, never breathed nor hater made perhaps daring intransigence thus, braced furnace to argony wisps, based voltaic potential phrasing in minuet twists, woad upon ode upon old, slipping wheat words to foundation honeycomb sweetens intention, waking minds its places, sexed revelation’s eversion thing-met so used to swinging, the hammer, materiel re-bound eternal, ringlet now ring – now curl tension’s universe moans suspended, revision, revision, revision – .sig, net, founding
10.
Courting 01:10
Courting I would take the language back to its beginning but beginning is the scream of the firstest star whistle of the nothingness letting in the void how the empty at my back to my beginning to me I would take my screaming back to its beginning but screaming begins only after input scar thistle of the otherness clutching at the node how the screaming at my back to my other to me I would take my other back to its beginning but I begin other what other would tar wearing in the blacknest cloak retching at the soak how the wearing at my back to my throwing up of me I would take my back back to its beginning but back is the back of the other – ripple-less sea crippled of the nothing-less than back to the beginning firstest and lastest this language in me silence then ripple-less, ripple-less hiss hiss and then ripple-less silence in me
11.
12.
Old Field, New Corse and in the water a lightening boundary when last night I had the words driven back in my mouth first paper, then flame, then breath from whence per cussed retribution hydrogen to wreak no more who craves shock-wave, hydrostatic puissance crumbled ash six times faster than sounds-like-silence now amidst scattered breast particulate shadow fragmentary and in the vapor a roaring oundeless ary rowst articulate bellows expecting mare's-nest amidst self rumbled ash merged leaf-to-sapped tang who savors claven, ionic-steamed helium to vacuum's shore first tapers, then flames, then breath from whence soard-cast illusions when last nights' I've had the liquid star pour from my mouth and in the flash been ever-foundry

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For RPM Challenge 2011

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released February 28, 2011

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Some rights reserved. Please refer to individual track pages for license info.

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Wetdryvac's Lair Weld, Maine

Wetdryvac is a consulting device, a musician, and a free will procedural ethicist. This makes for some seriously odd material from time to time, much of which is worked with here as Wetdryvac's Lair.

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