The Bridge Rule is :

Hover over the environment (the social & psychological moment)

Enter a social-psychological field, and seed that field

With radiating centers--

With image/gestural clusters

That lift the participants out of the normal way of processing their environment

And remember,  their processing of that environment is always a way of attaining “goals”—but such goals are always predicated on the way things are—yet the way things are is what (this new art proposes) must be radically changed.

One’s way of RELATING to the way things are, is what  must be changed.


Two artists enter a receptive community, bringing ways of generating art that have “nothing to do” with what most performance arts have, until this point, considered the basis of making performances. Because these two “visitors from another aesthetic planet” are bringing, on the basis of their 30 years of philosophical and practical working, a new modus operandus that creates a totally new kind of artistic collaboration.

Inside this newly formed community, people from different art forms and different walks of life will find themselves working together in terms of a seemingly  “rarefied” aesthetic that yet, surprisingly,  has wide social and inter-personal application)

There are two kinds of seeds that can be introduced into the social world, into the community in which art is to be created.

One seed—normal art—is the kind that issues forth—so that “what is” in terms of agreed upon reality-- flowers and develops and builds mental and physical structures-- palaces, and prisons.

The second kind of seed—(the basis of the Bridge’s art-style) instead, used the rich ‘loam’ of the environment  to implode and deepen, to develop itself, as seed, into the unexpected ‘universally applicable’ potent image into which totally new possibilities of being are then projected.

For instance, the first group of such planted imploding ‘seeds’ (in terms of the Bridge project’s history) were slowly evolving tableau’s of people being blindfolded. This image, in different context, among the different participants, set up chambers of resonance which then,  layered over with voice tracks, music tracks, etc—created as it were a new cerebral “brain” layer being folded over the existent brain of  ‘the world as it is’ --postulating a new world--  hovering over ‘real life” as pure possibility.

The Bridge involves communities of people around the world in building an artistic structure that at least hints at new, supplimentary layers to the collective brain.

It suggests a new environment in which some new, unimaginable creature (post-human?) might come to eventually live.

It introduces people (artists, intellectuals, students, people from all walks of life) to a “post-world” in which every moment twists to reveal --“behind the scenes” --a new, slow, glacial and yet cosmic interpenetration of mental and emotional vortexes at work.

(Example: A typical bit of over layered speech, as one is blindfolded:  “Don’t believe it.  I’m no more a human being than I am a rodent. There is so much scurrying back and forth inside me. Especially if you shift to the focus on my mental apparatus.

That’s how the world works. Back and forth. Back and forth like a rat looking for a way off a sinking ship. But sometimes, nevertheless, I go to sleep. We all do”

Another speaks-- “ Oh—that’s when  I enter the picture. As you can tell, I’m a substantial human being. The way I dress—this elegant double breasted suit, defines me. If I were at my summer vacation at the beach, I would not dress like this. Instead I would have on a stripped bathing suit, and the stripes of that suit would strum your consciousness just like that recurring waves of the ocean in front of us are struming your brain strings also”.)

This kind of art, promoted by the bridge—lets ideas and images and gestures arise in response to what is present in the chosen, potent image-series—rather than in response to some pre-determined goal, which is always co-opted by the way things are now in the world. But The Bridge art ends up being organized with musical rigor—helping the participants as well as the spectators to climb towards a different plateau of being.

Because-- while the purpose of life may seem to revolve around the drive “to be”—we propose that the purpose of art is to make life (being) ever more multi-layered. And discovering new and lucid ways to move into this intensified ‘multi-layered” ness represents the door that opens for each individual, as he moves into wider life of the spirit.

The new structural principal is—one network, superimposed over other superimposed networks.



truth of works of art, hinges on whether they

succeed, in accordance with their inner necessity, to absorb the non-conceptual and contingent

(their purposefulness requires the purposelessness, which is illusion)

the mimesis of works of art is their resemblance to themselves (art imitates itself) subject to the prohibition against graven images

Ivory tower enlightens as it reflects mimetic impulse which is impulse towards identity with oneself (ie avoids regressive “communication”, proposes freedom)

Move from communicative to mimetic language

This is me,  here I am. No place that doesn’t have eyes to see you

 Art work re-enacts the process thru which subject comes painfully into being—

Expression is not so much the subjects expression, as the impression, the sense of imprint

Paradox of art: art aims at the creation of things of which we do not know what they are

concretizing the enigmatic.

Art works kill what they objectify, tearing it away from context of immediacy and real life (so are negative per-say)

Reality around art work seems unreal and indifferent to it’s essence as art, while at the same time being its necessary pre-condition. So it is paradoxical in that they appear

Age of silence, works of art no longer speak—but their silence speaks all the more loudly

Art satisfies no needs (war does)

Art should imitate itself

Art= freedom from biological necessity (stories accommodate reproduction)

--A flash—

others want that flash

we are here for someone else’s agenda

not art to lead by hand to goal, make art to project into (lightening) (could be anything) and see (sense) whole

see whole, (my ‘globe” experience of expanded consciousness) and there are no “needs”

there is “freedom”

Motives: next move (dialogue, etc)  not from logic

Nor ‘be crazy” (for others)

But for elsewhere on ‘totality’ of that globe


Richard Foreman is basing his new work on projected images, but NOT because he accepts the fact that this technological form should now take center stage in our current version of reality.

He rejects such an idea. Rather—he places slow, tableau-like projected images at the center of his forthcoming productions because they are able to ground the  ‘Reality’ of the live performance which occurs in front of these images,  in the hallucinatory temporal coagulation of time passing—evoked in projected symbolic tableau that do not so much ‘advance’, but rather breathe, drift, and palpitate, just like the world around us is quietly doing while our limited mental faculties agitatedly invent adventures and interpretations we project as our daily  reality—but which in fact exists under that atmospheric blanket of the “GREATER” reality which is the slow oscillation of the cosmic drift.

So the projected images in Foreman’s new work certainly do not point toward a commitment to the new and superficial technological society, but rather to the slow  evolution of cosmic forces , massively coagulating into images and symbols behind our backs, that used to be called, dare we say it. . . .God.

Dear Ana
To answer your questions--
If God famously died, and  human’s no longer constructed their inner selves as complex “cathedrals”  trying to echo the circling of a “God” that was essentially the un-manifest— then in our time— the unconscious replaced God as the great “un-manifest”. Now—  with the “information age”-- everything is basically manifest, available to human beings who now have the world at their finger tips, but no longer have real un-plumbable depth— it’s all on the paper thin surface of “information”. The unconscious is dead. We are all wide— but paper thin. Indeed a well has dried up.

This being the case, the old sources of creativity— the un-manifest depths, are indeed no longer available. I myself am searching for an alternative— which is why I choose to concentrate on the obsessive image for the next few years. The “blindfold” image -- stasis . Into which the viewer can project him/herself and GROW a world of meaning— like a fungus— rather than the old way of plunging into a current (narrative) that carries one, develops one, along pre-determined lines.
Since we are all spread thin over the total available field of information, there is no linear development possible, no development possible in terms of exploring the depths— there is only a multi-directional mold-like growth of a potent image that slowly saturates like ink on a blotter. So my current work is to place such a pregnant image (variations on that image) in different settings that reflect the width of the new, flat world. And discover (and for me it will be a discovery, I feel I am going I know-not where— into the uncharted future) -- discover new possibilities in that new flat world that I do not really “like” but I know is our unavoidable future.

As far as the altarpiece— yes , I find it very evocative. When I started my theater years ago, the art of the middle ages was very important to me. The divine “woodenness” and “frontal” aspect of the poses spoke to me powerfully about the mystery of “presence itself” as overpowering the particular subject matter. After all— the “ontological” of Ontological-Hysteric Theater was all about a similar presence  co-opting the hysteria of normal dramatic situations.
I return to that now, in this new work— this Bridge Project is for me a new beginning. The re- insertion of overpowering presence— this time into a new kind of “flat” world quite different from the inherited “modernist” world of spiritual yearning within which I began my work, nearly 40 years ago.

(Textual snippets to possibly be folded into the forthcoming Bridge Project--


I am here to empower people in inappropriate circumstances

When I die,  having not been famous or important, I will be able to fold  hidden experiences into death, enriching  thereby that other realm.

I think my brain is ok

No laughter has been captured.


It is never enough.

Amazing escape mechanism.

Think of the cost, think of the psychic cost.

The whole world

Is irresponsible.

"A" for effort.

On the boulevard of dreams

In transit.

Dance with me!

Dance with me!

Deep catharsis.

I squeeze a few last words out of this machine.

This word machine


Self destructs.

 Why should I die.

This exhausted mechanism--

Into the depth

Of things.

Never again

Real discoveries.

Ah, I've arrived.

I want more

I want more

 Having more-- I want more.

Go to war with each element.

Negate it,


undercut it.

Everything eats itself


Burn up


The Universe-


(that continual conflagration)


into the sky.



Traveling into the sky


The sky getting

Closer and closer


What dies-- the sky.

Do it to me

And will I recover.


The void of the sky.

The eye in the center of the sky.


The bright sky.



The sky, spreads.


What's falling from the sky.

Except the sky itself.

The sky is

Pouring into my



The hole in the sky

Is the sky



Good things

Fall from the sky



A cloudless sky.


I looked into the sky.


Light behind the sky.

Light inside the sky.


The sky continues.


The sky spreads.

The sky folded over a second sky

The sky folded over a third sky

The sky folded over another sky

And another sky.



The sky deepens.


This rocket ship will carry us all

Into the sky.


The empty sky.

The empty sky

Strumming the brain strings.

Reaching into the vulnerable

Proffered brain.

Stroking the brain

Like stroking the cool limbs of the beloved.

Empty and beloved

pale sky.

All of you-- enter now--

the room with the intense light.

Agree to certain pre-conditions.

Agree that you will have—playmates.

These may be totally imaginary creatures

No matter

You will benefit from the illusions they provide

Trust me.

The unconscious is dead.

Is this a good or a bad thing

How can it be proved that the unconscious is dead

The way to prove

That the unconscious is dead

 Is to--

Enter that other realm.

Don't be fooled.


With the invention of the airplane--

That was a mortal blow to the unconscious.

The invention of the airplane.


When the unconscious dies

Poetry renews itself.

But this is useless.


Did I die

When the unconscious

Having died--

The unconscious is dead.

Therefore I am alone

Amidst. The multitude.


The unconscious is placed in an iron chest

And cast adrift

Into a sea of  ( forgetfulness)

But nobody really understood that this had happened.


He sky is blue.


The sky engulfs me.


The light comes

Again and again.


I am


My own

disappearing act.


Destruction of all plot development.

Construction that contains oppositions of pure means--

 dynamic rhythm.


The unconscious is being destroyed

So that totally free elements

Capable therefore of unlimited extension

Can construct a place

In which

The void of things--

 The void

 At the center of things-- can be seen as

 The energetic source that causes existence to

Repeat itself forever.

I am trying to say the one statement that will render all further statements unnecessary, and then-- with no need for additional statements-- I will dissolve into the world itself


(make everything self destructible, in contradiction? No-- not the opposite,  but the OTHERWISE. FIRE-- like Heraclites)


A new world is automatically old-fashioned.

Treat everyone like a hero

Because you suffer.

In bad times

Shine elsewhere.

Be awake


Knowledge about it.

The useless agenda.

Where there was one, make two.


But alert and so-called

In control.

This is no escape route


You're one hundred per-cent

On your own.


Is a solution when

Alive is a limitation.

Whatever it is that vibrates under my fingers when my fingers touch the surface of things--

This is death

Shaking minutely

The real world

Into the more universal


Of the nothing.

Over and above

The clamor of voices

The burning instance of the blood

Pounding inside me

Erasing all messages

giving me that kind of freedom

Which I, alas

Never dared taste.

You too

You too will resurrect in my image--

I'm that unimportant

You too will die without being noticed

Being credited with no real achievement.

And that is you secret glory--

Being folded into death

Carrying a host of small

Everyday experiences

Of no particular significance.



You burn there

In the deep dark of death,

Incandescent like a vast cosmos--

Far enough from this earth

That the blinding-ness  resultant

Is never registered by those

Who possess registering consciousness

Which trivializes, of course,

Those few items that penetrate,

As opposed to the vast

Disappearing into space


Your pregnant



You will never be seen

Or appreciated or honored

For what you are,

A 'noting' who withdrew

Just in time

From the richness of life.

Hence saving yourself for yourself alone--

That self-- yourself

Nothing like the

Depths of the cosmos--

Is the finally achieved


You are nothing.

You are nothing.

     (He didn't find anything important in. . .

He didn't find anything important

in toast

He didn't find anything important

in heartbreak

He didn't find anything important

in decorations

He didn't find anything important

in noise

He didn't find anything important

in motion sickness

He didn't find anything important

in non-ideas

He didn't find anything important

in plastic roses

plastic roses

Bright, plastic roses

His dying-ness

Which released him

From all necessity

And instead

Imposed the rigid

Category of the contingent.

Oh sparkle


While the knowing self

Sleep the eternal sleep.

External thunder

Like silence


Shortness of breath


Towards a much less

Comfortable conclusion



Compounded upon error


By the sound of a human voice

This is the normal state of things

This is perfectly normal


Stumble towards


 sources of happiness


ideas abandoned

at last--

 short circuit

thank god

short circuit



to no end

but inevitable disaster.

Short circuit


lunges that go no-where

identifiable as life

face to face

Whatever is not under control

Is under control



Holes in air


Holes in air


Reject all things




Wisdom and vanity

Distractions from what in particular.


Swallow reality

To produce accurate

Mental copies of reality


I like that music

I do like that music

Time passes, means

Things are never

Under control


can there be something wrong with a face

that is always

 the same face


Genuine behavior is


A calculated effect


Arrogant behavior


Everything that happens--

The appropriate schematic.

Get it.


How many hiding places

Are in fact


Please remember

An opinion

Should be a secret


Opinions come

In all shapes and sizes

Just like this


A real opportunity


Mental confusion


This is




This is

Serious time

Passing and



This is different

Move pain

To a different environment



Didn't work--

Erase that



There are accidents.

Hope for accidents


Accidents do happen


A newly released intensity

Is never identifiable


feelings for other people

like glass--

touchable but not seen


Touch it

It barks back

Disappearing into the

Before-I was born.


Into the

After-I-am dead


Heroism plus mental rigor--

Say nothing.



Is never available

If it's true

It's never available


A lifetime

an accurate



Plunging into that same



Nothing to say


What happens

Turns into

The permanent perspective


Is equally problematic


Please disguise

All worn out ideas



For justifiable



A certain  amount

Of awkwardness

Arouses curiosity


Intensifying the hunger

For information

breeds total catastrophe


Reach further

Using mental telepathy

Expect additional heartache




Has already punished

Those in trouble


This looks like a trap



In transit


Hard to concentrate

In small mental spaces


Look stupid

And turn the whole world

Inside out

All things

Are locked up tight



From bad things



Going backwards in time

Means carry on

As usual


Losing memories

Is like collecting things

That fall into place


Opening a door

By accident


When categories are reversed,

All anticipation

Is fulfilled

Don't you




No implications


Personnel well-being.


Resonance inside one's

Personnel belief system

can't be described


Trying to face me

Twist, slightly


Hypnotize people

With obsolete

Human emotion.


Never satisfy curiosity

It goes backwards only

Can something interesting happen

Between relative insignificant people


On the planet of the disturbed people


Almost normal


A bomb

Waiting to explode inside

Multiple heads



I forgot

Something important


I hid it

Because nobody was looking at it.

Believe me.

Come towards me and be enveloped

By my radiant


Your friend has a basket

This 7 mile stretch of the desert


Revealed it’s secret

An automobile without

A secret, is a desirable


open your body

like some very evolved


turn the paper napkin 180 degrees—rethink

your meal time commitments

move in an unexpected

direction, but hide

it from those surrounding you

The twisted shape of

A contorted boy

Escapes this universe.


This is a man

Entering the area of the contingent

It will cost him

His life

Make a catalogue

Film my “walk”—back on itself

The resonance between dead items and living items


Hat selection


Relative hapiness

The body  exhibits








(easy chair, tubes above

“I was sitting in my easy chair, reading about something called. . . .it suddenly—(text”)

I was reading about music, how it connected us with an inexplicable realm that is yet (t exy interrupts)why tell me that What am I supposed to think when I I hear that?

I think I prefer returning to my reading material. IT SAYS HERE—(Text interrupts))



Lampshade on Head Big doll or animal on back

Tied and gagged

Not god is dead, wisdom is dead

Replaced by efficicy (what works)

Wisdom sees error as a valuable link in web


“all problems are solvable” by leveling the field

but leveling the field, possibility of transcendence goes.

A handicap (an unscalable peak) is sand in  oyster

Stlll life, arrangements of cards

Faith in invisible

What is not visible here.

What is real is what is not visible here


Ponge on Chardin

Animal-lives in present

Man- past & future? (present extended)


INSTANT is not in present


 “does not exist” (invisible?

Bad times, lift out instants

Create the experience of the instant (Bataille—laughter & tears, the non-knowable

Suppose this were followed by  revelatory experience.

Would you follow me.

If this were followed by A revelatory experience, I would have to decide whether to follow you


The meaning does not show itself—hence

It’s power




Such words are words of annihilation

And the world


  And shines


Secrets creep through such words, ,



Suppose I were to postulate

The relation between things manifest and un-manifest

Is present—IE--

When the reality of the world

Comes under investigation


What do the next few moments-- 


What maneuver

And style of playfulness

Will surface between us

Living in a world where the un-manifest part—the greatest part—is being denied

“in some sense”

“so to speak”

(suppose I “WERE”....... that tense)

Get ready to experience the future of happiness

What was once happiness

was a certain chemical imbalance

and that

structural configuration

isomorphic with such a chemical imbalance

could be then


with other structures

discoverable, distributed

throughout the known universe.

The seventh level of reality copies


The first level of reality

As well as

Multiple additional

Levels of reality


When  they solidify

They are no longer identical.

Don’t choose

Any dead  levels

Of reality

No more talking

No more talking

No more no more

         (wisdom texts)

No more talking

It’s the place of residence

It’s not what happens in the place of residence

But the place of residence

Could be substituted

With some other

Place of residence

The place of residence

Whatever that place of residence

Is a channel

Into the heart of

Deep happening

It’s not what happens in that place of residence

Make a mental picture

Out of the phrase

--------- (text)

Can one describe that mental  picture

If I make a mental  picture out of


that picture defies my descriptive powers


Proposing the following


which mental window opens

Subsequent to the proposition


there is a mental window that opens

(God is not revealed in this world. That makes it divine)

If deeply fathomed

The meaning is not revealed

In this statement


Does one understand

         If one deeply fathoms the statement


         Then one understands what is not to be understood.

         (the word (sky) is understood, not understood (etc)


The blind spot in the eye

The UNSAID in language is language

We have a blind spot, in order to SEE

In saying


When I say


The unsaid is the word—(     )


Put on hats and point to them? Wands

Hold flower vase in front of face

Run against stripes

Vast like the mental territory uncovered in the words


The language vector that asks (proposes)


Can you enter this vast territory

         (Perhaps I shall discover if I can enter this vast territory)


“Pay attention to what I say”

If I pay attention to what you say, ----- my thinking stops.

My thinking stops when you say ---(text)

Does your thinking stop when I say _________(text)  What replaces your thinking


It would be interesting to suppose. . . . (text)

Do you know what I mean when I use the word---?

Your blind spot is hidden from you

So you can see using it

Try to see own blindness, creates consciousness

A delay,

A non-contiguity

A memory between stimulas and response

Appearance separates itself from the thing

Semblence from the shining

But this splash of darkness—this delay—permits that something BE, is being.

What is properly divine is that the world does not reveal God

What’s hidden, immediately, when I say--- (text)

Immediately when you say –(text) I know that something is hidden

This points to something ---(text)

I will diagram something when I say ---(text)

When you say ---(text) I know that something is bing diagramed for me.

 Suppose I were to postulate

Here is a man, who

After understanding many things

Chooses to understand nothing

And becomes strong.

In what sense does he become strong


I do not expect my question to be answered

Because rather than answering such a question—

That question should infect you

And the virus of such an infection, in fact


Better than all understanding

After being exhausted


Contradictory expectations

But a single world is sufficient

The earth

Is an escape mechanism

The darkness

Is inside the darkness

The last book written, is in a code

What defines me

Cake and candles

Fish eye on ice—boat

Dig in same hole (loops)

“a” mountain, sandwiches

eyes stare

globe head

Art overrides consciousness

Friction? 2 blocks of ice?


Old—evil in plays, learn to detach, yet energize

Now—detach from world

Everything about world bores me, can it be not about world and yet—energetic and intense???

(bores me since it’s always partial—lie

alternative reality—1 bit as whole

The REAL (actors) as mere shades that glide past

He REAL is fil

Is projected icon memories

(just as real is in fact, what’s past)


locked in body;; discourse evades (illiusion)”another subject” Locked in discourse

world “falls away—what is left? God? Everything else?

Just an instant, moment “tangent”. Not sustainable. Flash

So—don’t move. Frozen (loop) Things start



the blanl moment when

you suddenly—before you collect your thoughts


(ie wittgenstien. Wha...?Sublime? Block normal?

(loops do this)

_______All development is evil

yet—(man) must do it (original sin?)



has something to do with

human potential

to transcend consciousness



Brief flash


Freedom, escape

Was Globe=

Inside me, fell to outside


(wrong to)  Hear only attack of note, not sound

social  life a vast digestive system, chews up everything

Don’t contribute food to that. Be “useless”

Frozen in time, tension, stasis

Write a phrase

Stare at it

Let words do. . .

Put a box around a phrase

Badiou: a new disposition between what is a form and what is not, is the affirmative dimention of an aesthetic event.

My tast is to make something onto stage  into which you can project

--And yet you are not bored because there is no “narrative or psychological (vis a vis characters) involvement”.

Boredom is avoided because two levels go on at once—film and stage--

Yet neither is complete

And you oscillate between the two—

There is a “spark gap” which your consciousness jumps—and this keeps you awake.

Neither is level complete—(which is always the problem with both theater and film, in which all levels—language, image, movement in 3 dimensional space fill in all levels of perceptual experience) as opposed to other art forms which leave at least one level empty.

(And this relates to G Stein saying that in theater she was always either behind or ahead of the transpiring play—so she wrote ”landscapes” through which consciousness could wander.)

Why can I return to a painting, a poem, aphorisms, music—? Yet to see a play or film more than once is usually unbearingly boring? Because these other forms elude one by leaving out at least one level of perceptual experience. So a play must discover how to “leave out” a level—yet, a play with no dialogue for instance,  isn’t necessarily interesting, it’s simply another full world but composed of people “not talking”—it’s not a world (like dance) which is strangely “lacking” in a particular dimension.

But splitting focus between film and stage, the way I do it—that lacks a dimension, which is the dimension of  “making the connection” between the these modes. Yet it’s not simply “2 separate tracks running parallel” --which would be the case if any old film were just shown while the play transpired. No—the static tableaus I employ “imply” a potential relation (symbolic) — while the fact of  live performers occasionally reacting to the screen imply a different kind of relation (dynamic and psychological)—but the dimension in which this could indeed happen must be  left out—just as, for instance, the visual is ‘left out’ of a poem, or language is ‘left out’ of music that nevertheless seems to copy the fluctuations of consciousness that seems to surface automatically in speech.

No—we seek a for that forces the perceiving mind to “jump” like a spark from one level of “potential content” (film) to another (on-stage performance)—which means that normal “tracking consciousness” is by-passed while the new field created between spectator and the “in between” space manifest on-stage is a field of total alertness --without a subject! (The minute you have a subject, you have a prison created  by that subject—and the deep content of this art is freedom)>
This object

Is about itself.

That is to say

It is about impulse

Occurring against the backdrop

Of an event horizon

That changes slowly (the film)(slow seems perminent)

And that impulse—

Pokes holes (void) in the on-going film

(generating gaps—non-definable)

creating a space between impulse and event horizin

were truth arises

(my life story, desire to be ‘good boy’ and hated success of that as ‘killing’ self, so I sneak in proof (circus) I don’t want to kill audience. . .

Cut sound (shock!)

Don’t write clever phrases,

Just register

No to complexity

No, to seductiveness

(philosophical) of “write to make exception to system, a statement that generates it’s own disappearance:”


this achieved by the REGiSTER of film tablea,

and statement

and “thrown” (impulse) action

the combination of which is “real” (truth)


Problem is always—there are bits that seize one

And others that don’t

(narrative—in and out

stein- landscape (vs before or behind)

but how deal with in-out

of landscape

(stein— normally you are not in control as you watch, so there is relief, not completion)

but—is between screen and stage? A way of control?

(in between, liminal space

like in between first row and stage

museum is solution, as is 3-ring circus

screen and stage—3 ring circus

you are in control if you FOCUS?

Every human face

Is a double


Reaching into the future

To simulate

Human beings

Listening  to oneself



The next moment

Is a miscalculation

Collapsible furniture


Intelligence means

No way out

Wait for the bus

It smiles

On your  favorite





one automatically


specific motives

confuse heros

The dog


Without thinking


to build

a real world

Intense feelings

But empty

A subliminal exercise

Gone wrong

When the reality of the world

Comes under investigation


What do the next few moments-- 


What maneuver

And style of playfulness

Will surface between us

Living in a world where the un-manifest part—the greatest part—is being denied

“in some sense”

“so to speak”

(suppose I “WERE”....... that tense)

Dear Richard

There are things that can’t be know. Your task is to find them.

In between. In between

Be afraid. The unconscious may be dying.

Away with bad objects

This is the only way

Of traveling

Towards the future.



Wisdom, doing it’s work


The dream object, the symbolic object

The functional object, the virtual object

The object re-discovered, the transparent object.

Live in that world

Created by other worlds



Have always been important