... last night i dreamed many dreams. in one a clay man crumbled into dust at my touch at the entrance to the great library between the tigris and euphrates.
wednesday august 19, 1992
... oh, drip, drip, drip
... i decided to make blue without images- they hinder the imagination and beg a narrative and suffocate with arbitrary charm, the admirable austerity of the void.
on seeing red
... in the hospital they drop stinging belladonna in the eye to open the pupils, and then take photos by flashlight. is this that moment in hiroshima? did i live to tell the tale? for a fraction of a second there is a sky blue circle, and then the world reassembles itself in magenta.
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