Once let be drawn — to what peers out from side! the run off generally runs for me into something of a looming wild eyed plunger-with-an-abyss, of horror and of love — which found both ludicrous and shocking.
And once baited & hooked, dreams then screams — stupid teams to unravel where “collects” — strange babble kind of holy rite, to work through, as warthog through mysterious bramble.
What time there finds (and night raids) — also maniac for beauty — compoundedly gets sucked into rhyme, beat beat beats after — all can do to avoid is nothing! but flick a fingah at the “void.”
And Nick Cave’s advice: Stop fighting it!
Let feed on blooming nutgrass and pinweed — not be afraid to work at it, to let it compound.
Quotes from File 003 found especially helpful:
“desperate over-egged metaphors and lunatic, pencil-snapping, last-ditch attempts at something, my God, anything – “
“hard-won experience that within this pile of words something mysterious is going on… takes its own sweet time… “
“guy who turns up to hold the pencil – and that suddenly, without warning… have taken one line of no consequence and attached it to another line of no consequence and a kind of reverberation begins between the two lines, a throbbing – or as I like to call it, a shimmering –“
And of others where fortune favors brave — this ruc hides a-ride alongside. To steady waves. Particularly where share tender effascination for catching —
“lines [that] pulsate… collect significance impossibly… load up with meaning…”
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