processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: Of These First Breaths
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/of-these-first-breaths.html
Of These First Breaths. Breath baited and my eyes -. Unpolluted by even a sunset! What I thought I thought - shadows. Your eyes see only that is true. All of this in a few first breaths. Slowly a moon will come, many more to follow. Know their light is refraction -. Your eyes as bright as the sun. Chase that light, know nothing but its truth. You are whom we hold our breath,. And you've already changed the world. With these first few. ProcessingUnit is a place for words. MEET THE AUTHORS AND ARTISTS.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: We Are All Lighters
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/we-are-all-lighters.html
We Are All Lighters. We are all lighters. To match us to our skins. Oh, it is rolled. But it will never. Turn back to gold, no. Lets wait for the matches. Because if we start. We will surely die. Let's wait for the matches. To flick and click and start. So we can lie, oh, lie. In the pockets and the drawers. My eyes, they don't know what to see. Like I don't know what to ask. Or when to talk, or how to breath. When the smoke becomes me. The wick will quiver, shiver. In the wind,. I am half finished.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: Apocalypse Appendix
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/apocalypse-appendix.html
Ppendix is fucked. I can tell. It hurts like it’s in a bind, being held by hairy hands and wringed. This pain has got to go away. Cut it out? Sure get rid of it. I don’t need it. It’s like my gut had tacs and nails for breakfast and on its way out of the diner decided to finish the last of the lemon juice with a big swig. You don’t even need an appendix. It’s a waste of space, extra weight. Trim girls should get them chopped out before they slip into that dinner dress. ProcessingUnit is a place for words.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: Ode to James, Hydrocephalus
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/06/ode-to-james-hydrocephalus.html
Ode to James, Hydrocephalus. There are tornadoes on the sun. Big as your head and yet. You'll never know because, for one,. The force of gravity is cruel; it bends our. Burdens towards the earth, 'til all we see. Is feet (is egocentrism strong enough,. And does the bending of our knees keep. This globe moving round its core, or are we helpless as an ant,. As the ants of Herodotus, oblivious to the gold before us? But I digress; they say when Helios was in the sky. Your head was like a pane of glass,.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: XaoS GENESIS
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/xaos-genesis.html
By: Kalyle Schereer Samuel. ProcessingUnit is a place for words. We are ProcessingUnit. We are a place for words by New Yorkers. We feel New Yorkers have a lot to say, and a lot to feel. Welcome. We like you. We hope you like us. MEET THE AUTHORS AND ARTISTS.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: The Pink and The Grey
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/pink-and-grey.html
The Pink and The Grey. A slip of paper, a vinyl seat. Freedom lies within the dark waters that mingle with the bubbling amber. The amber holds no truth however. It never did and there is no reason why one should continually look for it there, trapped within. No, the truth remains locked within the burgundy tar that you will submerge yourself in once you reach the old ancestral spawning grounds that expelled you not nearly as long ago as you would like to believe. ProcessingUnit is a place for words.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: Death will leave its tracks
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/death-will-leave-its-tracks.html
Death will leave its tracks. Freckles that peek unabashedly. Young, curled around my thumb. Angel hair, fairer than what's fair. And never there. Never there. Fires start around your bed, I take a match. And lay them there to feed the too much need. That ignites the freckles that I touch too much. I take them out and scatter them on the floor. To start small fires instead of starting a war. A trail of drunken longing lines the tops. Of chairs from her bedroom to her stairs. A trail for you to read.
processingunit.blogspot.com
ProcessingUnit: My precious plant that didn’t take
http://processingunit.blogspot.com/2008/07/my-precious-plant-that-didnt-take.html
My precious plant that didn’t take. Each year I wonder,. How he’d look. Injured when removed from his flat,. Into the dirt of this earth. ProcessingUnit is a place for words. We are ProcessingUnit. We are a place for words by New Yorkers. We feel New Yorkers have a lot to say, and a lot to feel. Welcome. We like you. We hope you like us. MEET THE AUTHORS AND ARTISTS.
