Clothes held together with glitter glue, skin like rocky planet smoothscape, smile twisted twice like party streamers, taped at the corners. A walk basmati, speech untied, gestures make-believe, jokes gummy-shy. Incomplete mannerisms, unfinished philosophy, step-printed attitude and gorgeous guff. Warm heft, and night-cry pinball flash-picture catch pose. Unintelligible, thankfully unheard. Complete space-out, ripped-shirt filth. [info]
I'd call her writing a piece of 'ergonomic fiction', it's fitted with the body in mind, the shape and placement of body parts in a comfortable fashion, maximizing ease of movement. I'd call her body a work of 'homophonic friction', she's a tease, drinks teas, wears tees, lisps t's, climbs trees. In the dark sweaty concrete of summer she lives and hoos this song to windows open and blown. Her voice like a flag at night, stark simple beauty hidden under cover of the fact of no wind and no eyes. [MySpace] (thanks, Michelle!)
Posted by Dan at June 9, 2009 1:02 AMnice Pollan quote.
Posted by: BMR at June 9, 2009 8:48 AM"night-cry pinball flash-picture catch pose" is a beautiful phrase.
Posted by: Lindsey at June 9, 2009 2:03 PMthanks Dan! Glad you liked it - I've fallen hard for Rattail! Very fitting write up.
Posted by: michelle at June 10, 2009 2:18 PMoh man, that marmoset track is something.
Posted by: max at June 11, 2009 4:19 AM