June 15th, 2014
some threads end with the needle, end in the entrails of the beast, some threads become ropes, and a rope becomes a line, a trope, some ropes have men swinging on their curved ends, while a wind makes a sound, that can’t be put in lines, some men wait forever at the line, some cross them, some lines are stepped over, mistaken for straight ones, and so they bind, tapes, a ribbon, some lines get entangled, knotted, try make sense of them, cut them, pulverize them, snort them, the line of blood, the lines of curvatures, some lines make a noise, some get travelled through, some end around your neck, beating, a bass, wired to infinite openings, some strangle and burn you, some men follow their hairline, some a company line, airline, some can’t wait to jump the line, break it and bend it, make a web, thread it, hang a bucket off it, none of the lines have definite meaning, except the ones that end in rows, chained ones, imprisoned in vicious circles – the death of the line, spiral – the lifeline, some are endless and thus only presumed to be lines, some form figures, that can’t be accounted, only counted, manically attended to, some lines disappear as you approach them, some remain there even if you run (from), line of attack, line of a defense, multiplied, magnified, made hardly visible, all encompassing, stringed – the lie of the line, the truth of the line – lost, going offline
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