my voidship is my veil college

the city doesn’t offer diversity but a diversity of diversities. in diversity, diversity is reconciled through the possibility of union in conflict, through the blood bond of war ... but in a diversity of diversities, diversity cannot be reconciled – war is impossible between orders that live according to fundamentally varied orders of meaning and death, whose diversities are so incompatible they’re unable to effectively sense each other. as if species not just of different dna but of compositions of which dna is only one move in strange parallel – their workings, transactions, spatial contracts made viable only through the presence and continual recreations of another order of which none are a part and all full members. this other order is the city.

the city is colour and flesh, flowers subverting flowers, definitions no longer definitions but whonyms made fluvial, statements no longer statements but dreams and nightmares made the fragmentation of word.

i return to the city like iless i’s orbiting around an acephalous head. each whonyms a limb, organ – amputated and fused into the city to live. we are not bodies without organs. rather, we are bodiless organs that have found a body and this body is the city.

heaven is here, fused with earth. its not what we expected.

sightseeing in the city ironically doubling vision negates it.

i was born not half a sphere seeking another half for completion, to upon finding roll through life some whole and healthy bouncing ball. the only spheres the earth, pieced together, a polydimensional puzzle comprised of, purchased and laboured over by, the myriad eyes of the cities of the earth. each whonym – regardless of its ubiquity of name in the piece (that empty piece in the infinite set of that polychromatic puzzle called earth) that stands among and against the inhuman – a photon-pixel in a pixie eye. (and isn’t name just the degree to which a pixel is reflected among the eyes? we seek in our strivings fuller reflections. yet names are only one technique for our seeking.)

i fall into the city as i fall into the void of another’s flesh. infinite, partial, ambivalent, ecstatic, silently wailing, laughing without laughter, this well that, curved through the curves of time, deposits me at no bottom but only in itself, where its aperture, so clear at what were deemed beginnings, is every moment, each flesh. the city is this perfect receptivity of fallings, and we its perfect weights.

the people in their assumed singularities copulate on the streets like magnets without poles, attraction and repulsion properties born by the city in itself. morality is diffused in flesh’s calm cacophony. we are no good or evil, yes or no. we might be the or. but an or without any signed abutments.

the city is quiet like the vortex of coitus. nature, particularly when it is most silent, makes far more noise.

the polyglottalism of the city is an animism – spirits of technology, energies of the inhuman, blab without end.

nature, like god, has lost its energy. or rather it has transferred its energy to the city – gifts, last wills, testaments of the dying.

red and yellow

black and white

all are luscious in our sight

cities eat the little whonyms

eat the little whonyms of the world