Image through Words or Photos

Taken out of context I lie naked.

Stripped bare like a grape ready to

shrivel up. Words upon words are

thrown onto me like lashes of a

whip. Someone lit some orange peels

to evoke memory. The first sense - smell.

Stripped bare I get analysed Freudian

Style about Oedipal complexes and how

my former companions had penis envy.

I hear the whir of an SX70. Picture

develops right before my eyes. It’s me on paper. Spirit left the
soul. I guess it takes more than documentation and
theory to understand a human.

Jerry Stochansky

Victims:
Seen tenderly, softly.

Victims drop as feathers
to noiseless talcum collisions
with terra-dolce.

Gentle emotio-pyschological bolsters,
Arranged ina field
as furrows.

Thermal.

Pleasant temperatures.
Priests create a Nut night,
Barring lovers.

Passion is a dried up cake,

A plateau surface.

A tap-dance is performed there:
A pointy quiet reel,

The performer:
A friend of anguish,
Taker of dry, smooth beauty.

Terrence. Gower

a string of beauty
the slash, even after knowing fully
the implications of its purpose,
reason, and exploitative end, has
taken on a rare and
wonderful beauty.
cruising through the slash as well
as the green has become a
mode of purity - the fluidity of
motion which I will dearly miss -
even as I sit quite intoxicated
and (bug) relieved to be
sitting in the white river
train station bound for
recuperation.
yesterday for the solstice
party almost everyone took
mushrooms and drummed.
Janet and I made a
mosquito effigy which was
ritually burned in a huge
Pyre - the drumming heightened
to an intense explosion of
energy.

notes from tree planting.

Johann Groebner

Image through Words or Photos
‘Taken out of context lie naked.
Stripped bare like a grape ready to
shrivel up. Words upon words are
thrown onto me like lashes of a

whip. Someone lit some orange peels

to evoke memory. The first sense - smell.
Stripped bare I get analysed Freudian
Style about Oedipal complexes and how
my former companions had penis envy.
hear the whir of an $X70. Picture

develops right before my eyes. It’s me on paper. Spirit left the

soul. [ guess it takes more than documentation and

theory fo understand a human.

Jerry Stochansky

Victims:
Seen tenderly, softly.

Victims drop as feathers
to noiseless talcum collisions
with terra-dolce.

Arranged ina field
as furrows.

‘Thermal.

Pleasant temperatures,
Priests create a Nut night,
Barring lovers.

Passion is a dried up cake,

A plateau surface.

A tap-dance is performed there:
‘A pointy quiet rel.

‘The performer:
AA friend of anguish,
‘Taker of dry, smooth beauty.

Gentle emotio-pyschological bolsters,

‘Terrence. Gower

a string of beauty
the slash, even after knowing fully
the implications of its purpose,
reason, and exploitative end, has,
taken on a rare and
wonderful beauty.
cruising through the slash as well
as the green has become a
mode of purity - the fluidity of
motion which I will dearly miss -
even as I sit quite intoxicated
and (bug) relieved to be
sitting in the white river
train station bound for
recuperation.
yesterday for the solstice
party almost everyone took
mushrooms and drummed.
Janet and I made a
mosquito effigy which was
ritually burned in a huge
Pyre - the drumming heightened
to an intense explosion of
energy.

notes from tree planting.

Johann Groebner

ey
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