Today, time's spiraling into some other ending. The words are from pages 1246 and 1247 of the desktop encyclopedia: performance art to permittivity. Science and mathematics are full of exquisite language, I am finding. I wonder if those who use it ever day enjoy its richness....
The margin recedes (cutup)
Time is a machine to blend head and roots. A vessel to hold scent. A table arranged to reflect the delicate mathematical formulation of submerged purpose. Romans made nearly all orthodox art forms by blending of comic lineages and bequeathed psycho absorption—mirrors reflecting change, established lines breaking into small, pearl-like bodies evolved from properties, language, raw materials. Structure was understood to control rarer elements: fragrant aggregate, the soft tissue of gemstone and water-tube boilers. In the outermost shells, spiral or constant, simple harmonic motion is repeated in posthumous degradation and bouncing, swinging optics. The glass membrane cracks with concentric prisms to change the direction of permafrost light. No force has been improved since jazz, the ultimate source of extinction and counterfeiting. Nearly all opera is more or less language weathered to soil and poison. Related deposits of elements, their paddle wheel shells the favorite food of monologists, provide continuous bone remodeling staged as an open framework for developing prototype environments. As in gardens, or less sprawling systems: manuscripts, atoms of the same magnetic permeability, a guitar string vibrating precious olivine tissues. Even waste is artful. The margin recedes, substance eroding.
Photo by foilman (Henry Burrows) via Flickr.
