autumn city cold riots
clockwork picking mincing at the memories of a shit-strewn field where a child walks home
nothing again nothing
a long low stone wall bus money lunch and billable hours and
things buffet; the trees drink their fill in the cold night air
and phlebas whips his head round to catch the whispers of the dry leaves that leave the branches that starving hysterical naked pentheus is trying to strangle the light out of choking swallowing lungs filling with endless blue wine
the splines sing
interpolants lagrange and hermite cubic polynomials dancing pinging high and brittle like lightbulbs or the masts of ships
patching memories along with functions, perturbations rippling down intervals no longer canonical ready to head off into terra incognito etchings in the margin
do not attempt to follow them they are cold distant angels have sharp teeth are vicious like children
stay instead and wander streets torn apart by jump discontinuities vomiting the homeless and drug crazed from between the cracks searching for the serendipity element
which can be proved to exist but not on this interval
nothing is ever where you look for it.
