how 2 make gud thtr - a knowledge aggregate

put LEDs in yr shoooos
aw who gives a fuck, tie LEDs in yr hair
spend yr $ on beer and give it yr audience 4 free
don't talk for hours
pretend that u make dance
tear up a picture of shakespeare
roll the pieces in2 tiny paper pills
and shove 'em up yr butt like a suppository
lie about everything
and always tell the truth
go to conferences of arts administrators
dressed up as the head of the NEA
beg 4 money
never hurt your audience
and if that means you'll never get to show them yr that one specific scar
then accept that
spend years learning to do one set of ten movements
turn it into a prayer
don't turn everything into a prayer tho
cuz that's fucking immoderate
KNOW THE LOCATION OF YR BELLYBUTTON
KNOW YR CONTEXT
get into youtube, but don't try to be it
know that grad skool can w8 and not w8 at all
go tell it 2 the mountain
put language firmly in your mouth
quote
comment
expound
exhort
turn away from everything in order to look back at it
lie down on the floor and lick it
hire fashion designers
2 be yr costume designers
and installation artists
2 make yr sets
FUCK EVERYONE
say
"I am the plumber, the architect, the lawn mower, and the sea. I am doing what we have always done. I am making it up. I read the rule book but I blacked the stupid bits out. If I say there is a shark in this bathtub, there is shark in this goddamn bathtub."
Throw shape after shape after shape
makes shapes
shatter any inconsequential or old-fashioned geometry
kill it out there
make this one a good one

Friendship is religion

What is heard through the din of doubt?
cult of boxes is overturned.
the voice of a friend burns back the fog
Which seemed gentle at the start but actually hisses and singes before it departs.
It is the tear that burns and marks
at last
a return.
So here I speak with what I have
Friend your words remind me of something that still lives inside
and is glad. A light cuts through the deepest tomb of the self.
Now i am reminded and emerged. Thank you.

I am admitting how i tried so hard not to see
Not to lose a single thing
because losing something has damaged me.
But so does insisting on never having and never being had.
Hence my weird grief.

This is the heart of my journey and the journey of my heart
This is the dance
This is the edge I walk
The teeth of all my talk and the distance through which
I see the tree bearing its fruit

We can pick all the fruit on the tree and most of it overflows our arms to the ground
or we can take a bite of each round but never finish a single one.
I pick the fruit off the branch but toss it before tasting of its sweetness
and so I am missing the whole point.

I was a boy who used to collect souvenirs of every happy or felt moment
to remember that something so nearly impossible happened.
I was deluded! by the crime of my american childhood. Joy is not elusive.
Still this doesn't mean I understand the word happy. It feels inappropriate
and turn my back on it.

I cant stand to lose because I never had much
But somehow in that I have become rich and held
which caused light to be born into my eye
and eclipsed the dead child that just wouldn't die.

I need to be more careful or heart-wise.
We are circumstantial flowers of the desert..
Blooming spontaneously but with such precision.

I weep at my lost selves
the ones that fail to be honest or satisfied
I weep and say single file
Haunt me in a more organized way

I weep but smile
under what we're making
despite the world.
Your words pinch together a torn seam called
clarity to see what is there but unseen.