vrijdag 5 september 2014

CIRCLE TALK 90 sirccoa

SIRCCOA

Thus in the square before the wall getting acquainted with a stealing-one
Squatting sweetly before the wood stove
Perhaps in Tel Aviv
Perhaps in Katendrecht
Thus also being attached to the excellent-girl
A braid floats in the water
Perhaps near pier nine
Perhaps in a swimsuit
Thus getting acquainted with a photograph
Perhaps in a folder

Thus in the attic of the mill getting acquainted with an owl
Perhaps in Zwevegem
Digging a river in the rain
Perhaps along the canal
Thus getting acquainted with an eel
Perhaps in Amsterdam
Thus in an alcove catching fire
Perhaps near the docks
Hearing the rumble
Seeing the lamb
Perhaps in Central Park
Eating cheesecake at the pond
Perhaps among the tennis balls

Perhaps in the dunes
Being yummi
Beside the dance floor it darkens
Thus getting acquainted with a tumbling-one
Perhaps in a puddle of rum
Perhaps in Enschede
Go for a shot of billiards
Ten over white
Thus inform with a thick tongue what street it is that leads to the glitter

Perhaps in Trinidad
Radiating the smell of the blood-of-sugarcane
Radiating the smell of the sweat-of-calypso
The bath is hot
Between the ferns waddles a toad
Perhaps in Florida
Thus pouring custard from a plate with parakeets
The favorite-ones meditate
Perhaps in the lee
Between sighs yawn lazily
And stand up
Thus on the slope catching a voltage

Perhaps on the A1
Thus on the asphalt of the driving lane getting acquainted with a stone
A bone lies on the sidestrip
Perhaps in Bangladesh
Thus on the terrace getting acquainted with a bottle of swamp water
The junglecat scratches her blaze

Perhaps in the hole
Thus between the stables getting acquainted with a housegoat
The nooses are moldering
Perhaps among the elms
Perhaps in Nederweert
Rotating and revolving
Thus getting acquainted with a pup of a wolf
The iron lung is rusting
Thus getting acquainted with a smooth tongue
Perhaps on the boulevard
Being the last
A starling blares desperately

Perhaps in the valley
Thus in the plane field getting acquainted with the coloring of the grass
Perhaps in Caracas
Perhaps at Wimbledon
Thus on the balcony of the home-house getting acquainted with a woman
A bowl cracks on the lawn



                              Akasif Sirccoa
                                        I am Akasif Sirccoa. Colder than a walking-one-walking-up-front. Warmer than a disgust. Faster than a mascot. 
                                        Slower than a turtle. Fuzzier than a rhythm. More tangible than a suggestion. Scantier than a cotton flower. More 
                                        Fruitier than a north rock. Paler than a salsa. Spicier than a triangle. More fragile than a distinction. More 
                                        constant than a whim. Softer than an anchor. Harder than an azalea. More calculated than an insight. More 
                                        spontaneous than a report. Smaller than an outer sea. Bigger than an urge. Sadder than a waterfall. More cheerful 
                                        than an inspection. More curved than a waterline. Straighter than a landline. Less protected than an exception. 
                                        More fostered than a fear. More harmful than a sorrow. More useful than a dictation. More fluid than a center. 
                                        More massive than a lava flow. Lighter than a banquet. Heavier than a dragonfly. Sloppier than a roof terrace.
                                        Neater than a downpour. More modest than a gummy doll. Bolder than a rainbow. Weaker than a wind turbine.
                                        Stronger than an accent. More flexible than a longing. More rigid than a quality. More bound than an inner
                                        circle. More spacious than a tone. Shorter than a corridor. Longer than a belt. Steeper than a hill. More sloping
                                        than a tower staircase. Uglier than a spark. Prettier than a weeping-one.



                              Pliddasch Sirccoa
                            I am Pliddasch Sirccoa, the bound multiple-sided-one
                            Call me and I appear as an intimate creature
                            Conceal me and I vanish

                            My merits are multiple
                            I plastered walls while I had lost my last bit of agility, I plastered walls while shivers
                              I was not equipped to control came over me, I forged an adornment that broke every
                              convention
                            I plastered walls while one problem heaped itself on the other, I forged an adornment
                              that refused to be admired, I healed wounds yonder beyond where home-houses were
                              build on stilts
                            I plastered windowless walls, I forged an adornment that deviated toward the north, I
                              healed wounds yonder beyond where I did not take to the controlling-ones-controlling-the-
                              course
                            I plastered walls while around me there was whispering going on, I forged an adornment
                              that offered too many possibilities, I healed wounds in circles in which each variety of
                              generation spoke a different language
                            I plastered walls while it was impossible for me to choose, I forged an adornment that
                              did not let itself be photographed, I healed wounds on sailing ships and I healed
                              wounds in riding trains
                            I plastered walls in areas of which the climate had not yet been mapped out, I forged an
                              adornment that dictated a new method of presentation, I healed wounds by only repeatedly
                              reciting a poem
                            I plastered objects that had a tightening effect on my chest I was not equipped to control, I
                              forged an adornment that satisfied an unnamed need, I healed the wounds of two
                              housedogs who listened to the names girl and boy
                            I plastered walls in areas that first had to be made accessible, I forged an adornment that
                              satisfied a hazy expectation, I plastered corridors situated under the top-layer of the earth
                            I plastered objects that were designed to collapse as soon as they were finished

                            I am Pliddasch Sirccoa, the bound multiple-sided-one
                            Pliddasch, remember my name



                              Lui Sirccoa
                                                I am Lui Sirccoa
                                                I live in a castle in the air
                                                I am crazy about bananas. My latest book is dutch happiness
                                                I live single, as my contract-partner is a gaining-one-gaining-ground. Would I not live single, then 
                                                   I might be surpassed. My passes being factually rather shy
                                                l like to type. My latest publication is entitled dutch happiness
                                                I live in a castle in the air
                                                I am crazy about mist
                                                I feed myself with bananas. Bananas are sweet. This I need for my constitution. My constitution 
                                                   is frail
                                                My castle can be disclosed by circular movements. I feed myself with walnuts
                                                I am crazy about walnuts
                                                I like to cook and to bake. My specialities are couscous and walnut cake
                                                I am crazy about chickpeas
                                                I am always active. Up to falling apart. I live single, because I am always active
                                                I like to cook and to bake. I like to adorn wood
                                                Would I not feel the need for peace, then I might love to defy the forces
                                                I live single, because as a given I am focused on inflows. This I need for my constitution.  
                                                  My constitution is asymmetrical. Would I close one eye, then the sound of a fugue might emerge
                                                I am crazy about moving mist. I am crazy about clouds framed by sunlight. I like to look at letters
                                                I like to look at numerals. My castle is built according to a system
                                                I like to be orderly active. This I need for my constitution. My constitution needs a subject to 
                                                   arrive at an object
                                                I live single, because my system closes itself around the measures of my order. My system being 
                                                   factually rather hermetical
                                                My order can be disclosed by circular movements



                              Wuwlaz Sirccoa
                                         I am Wuwlaz Sirccoa, I do not shun the dark
                                         I am there where I wait, I wait there where I am
                                         For once, I will realize gaining control over the trembling
                                         once, the swallow will raise her tail for the panther
                                         This will be actual in the moment that the sifakas
                                         join in a circle talk on Ameland
                                         the tiara is melted
                                         This will be actual in the moment that the unnamed-ones
                                         will silently descend the stairs
                                         For once, the triumph will lose its luster
                                         For the satisfaction will be satisfactory



                              Ekezoe Sirccoa
I am Ekezoe Sirccoa
I am nothing
Knowing me is dissolving in me
Looking at me is seeing nothing
Who listens to me hears nothing
Who touches me feels nothing
Who sniffs me smells nothing
Who licks me tastes nothing
I am nothing
I am Ekezoe Sirccoa
All breathing creatures are like me

I am Ekezoe Sirccoa
I wove the emblem of my generation
I wove a sunflower
A center with a crown of eight leaves
In each leaf I wove a word
Beside freedom I wove sensation
Beside sensation I wove equality
Beside equality I wove affection
Beside affection I wove kinship
Beside kinship I wove surrender
Beside surrender I wove maturation
Beside maturation I wove enjoyment
I wove in colors which made my hands burn
And using feathers of yardgeese 
I transformed the center into a soft heart



                              Rokala Sirccoa
                                                            I am Rokala Sirccoa
                                                            I am an island
                                                            Surrounded by water I lie naked
                                                            Luring
                                                            My rocks certain beacons
                                                            During even the mistiest of nights

                                                            I lie passive, when the tide rises
                                                            Active, when the tide retreats
                                                            I relish these endless repetitions
                                                            Evil turning out to be good, good turning out to be evil
                                                            Dissatisfaction turning out to be acclaim, acclaim turning out to be dissatisfaction
                                                            Yes I relish these endless volte-face

                                                            I am a luscious island
                                                            I, Rokala
                                                            The most diligent fingers fail at reaping my harvest
                                                            The fiercest foal seldom grazes my hills bare 
                                                            Surrounded by bays I lie
                                                            I can be approached by the simplest sloop
                                                            I can be left on the sigh of the gentlest breeze
                                                            Come and visit me
                                                            Me, Rokala
                                                            Come and ride my silver beach

                                                            I am Rokala
                                                            I am a visited island
                                                            I receive and I give
                                                            I lie and I relish



                              Terpan Sirccoa
I am Terpan Sirccoa, the languished walking-one-walking-the-towns –
my joints are worn
The streets I have explored are wiped from the map
Overgrown with concerns that make muscular tensions superfluous –
hearths housecats audio cassettes
My bowels are tested

I am a name in the archives of the IGG
to request, under green-23876, Code of Archive T
The IGG can be found in the Archives of Houses, under code CI
This to make clear that I shared in occurences-gone-by
It isn`t that I ever connected pleasantly with version T-green-23876
but it must be my only me-version that vibrated communally
at a specific moment, in a specific location
my only me-version that attended –
meaning what the word means
The remaining me-versions I have been able to keep from the catalogs
This is what I consider to be my merit

I am an old wolf, so to speak
swollen and shrunk in streets
where night addresses will think twice
before tickling the eyes of walking-ones-walking-by –
alcohol premises tea houses mahjong halls
I mirrored myself in the movements
of those who halted at the door
in their backs, which wink 
before they knock
in their necks, which tighten and stretch
when they cross the threshold
That is the language that I understood
that is the language wherein I was at home 



                              Hidesga Sirccoa
                              I am Hidesga Sirccoa.
                              Singing in the forest is my passion
                              A passion to which I do not often surrender, because, to optimally undergo the tranquillity 
                                 that this passion is capable of giving me, I have to take care of the preparation to the finest detail

                              This preparation is a ritual after an appropriate design – resulted from a focused study of the inner 
                                   planet and an unfocused study of the outer planet – in which an interaction is put into motion 
                                between chance and me 
                              This requires polished precision
                              Thereafter, the interaction is kept in motion
                              This requires a numberless measure of energy

                              Because it is necessary to extract from time this energy (plus the energy I need to – through the 
                                 tranquillity brought about by the singing in the forest – be optimally transported to unfocused 
                                positions on the inner planet and to focused positions on the outer planet), without exception 
                                  these preparation periods are of long duration

                              The result of this transport is healing for every conceivable wound and because it is not harmful 
                                 to any breathing creature, I name the realization of my passion art



                              Belelli Sirccoa
I am Belelli Sirccoa.
The Feteriens inhabit my homestreet
The knowledge is available in my homestreet. The knowledge of the metal
The parasitic-ones throng through my homestreet
Featherheads whirl through my homestreet
Nowhere the silence is more transporting
The circle of vandalizing-ones trots through my homestreet
The collecting-ones-collecting-knowledge throng through my homestreet
The method is available in my homestreet. The method of Quinti

The untraceable-ones who with me inhabit my homestreet have been mapped out
on a painting. Their clothing is mapped out. The disillusion is recorded on a retina

The unnamed-ones try to reproduce a little piece of my homestreet
They draw up an inventory both of the data and of the force
They crave both the prosperity and the happiness
They produce slick calculations
They try to guess what it is that makes one fortunate enough to be in the
position to be an inhabitant of my homestreet

The circle of flying-ones whirls through my homestreet
The shuddering-ones steer through my homestreet
Dummies flash in my homestreet. Nowhere the exhibition-window is more transporting
The mysticism is available in my homestreet. The mysticism of the dream
The music sounds in my homestreet
Nowhere the dance is more transporting
The hunting-ones-hunting-beams whirl through my homestreet
The fluttering-ones whirl through my homestreet
The collecting-ones-collecting-data throng through my homestreet
The limits are available in my homestreet. The limits of the talent

Also the ones-holding-a-title would be willing to stake plenty for penetrating 
my homestreet
If only periodically
They crave both the satisfaction and the magic
Nowhere the birch is more transporting
Nowhere the guesthouse is more transporting
Nowhere the fountain is more transporting
The walking-ones-walking-up-front trot through my homestreet
The design is available in my homestreet. The design of the settling house
The forgetting-ones sparkle in my homestreet
The poetry is available in my homestreet. The poetry of the drama

The transporting-ones who with me inhabit my homestreet have been recorded on
video. Their voices have been recorded on audio. The laugh has been recorded on a tympanum

The aroma is available in my homestreet. The aroma of delight





S






© mc 1993-2014



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