WELCOME TO ROOM 0015

MOTEL POLICY, MAXIMUM INFLECTION

I don’t have a past. I have a continuous present.
George Balanchine

Then she said in a louder voice, as if finally discovering something solid
Passive Voice

“She treats him like a mystery so she won’t have to judge him,”
Passive Voice

I am going to write what happened yesterday, though at first I did not mean to, didn’t think of it, as I don’t anymore.
Passive Voice

An event horizon is the edge of a mystery.
event horizon

You scatter all my winter dreams.
A blade of grass

The story seemed, in some way, more important than anything in the world, I suppose because it was not subject to change. I imagine that people believe in god for the same reason.
Writing as transformation

But midnight is not
so easily defeated.
hotel room, 12th floor

He's a pinhole writer: he created a darkroom of language through which, despite himself, light passes.
Portrait of the artist

a woman with a man's voice
but no name/ as if to say: it's midnight
fox

It’s exactly how I want perfume to behave—like a post-experience calling card or a benevolent ghost lingering in your home. 
matiere premiere

so I thought: let love kill us, let it start here.
days and nights

And like—outta the blue, was like:
"Prophecy is visual and auditory.
Two shriveling motel palms.
Two systems can go wrong."
Motels & Prophets

It is at times traceable by select, unpromising young poets ten years before they ditch versifying for memoir highway celebrity
PERTURBUTRON 500

do microchips have colorful names?
Pax Americana

MAN THE FLYING SAUCERS. It was an expression kids had used the year before but didn't use this year. She looked at it for a while as if the words meant something to her that she did not yet know.
where are you going, where have you been?

 History is a little man in a brown suit
    trying to define a room he is outside of.

I know history. There are many names in history
                  but none of them are ours.
little beast

She characterized it as a fight against the knowledge that large swaths of the world, and of ourselves, are lost forever, every day. “Writing is a way of convincing yourself perhaps that you’re doing something about this,” she said. “I can’t stand to let go without some effort at this.”
Passive Voice

call it snowfall, spring, October, all that' s left
The Blue Door

now midnight has come in
from foreign places.
hotel room, 12th floor

The frontier is never
somewhere else.
hotel room, 12th floor

It’s not that we let ourselves
down. But there was something
predictable about us
we got used to the surprises

And the Thames—if I can
speak for it also—it too is indifferent.
A beast, unlike the ocean. Still wicked,
And who gives a fuck about it anyway?
What does it know about being a person.
About not going under. About doing it in a dress.
Kate moss

"Prophets in rooms
100 to 150—
motel policy"
Motels & Prophets

Perturbutron 500 scrambles discursive sequences of economy, science, government, religion, space exploration, middle-aged wellness, paleolithic wooing etiquette, and alien studies.
PERTURBUTRON 500

You celebrated by dreaming as a log might
Calling forth decomposition’s cute sister, life.
A single crushed can of rosé strewn thereabouts
Is all you, too, at maximum inflection point.
happy campus

Someone once told me that explaining is an admission of failure.
    I’m sure you remember, I was on the phone with you, sweetheart.
little beast

Anything can be a ritual, you just have to name it before it ends.
all fours

Something needs to be said to describe my moonlight. Almost frost but softer, almost ash but wholer.
full moon