black hair city

American Downgrade

New Age 2

WoW 4

Oren 7

La petite Millie 6

Heivfar 9

Private data 11

Save 12

Section de la pierre 15

Château 19

giulia essyad

giulia essyad

michael carli

loren kagny

michael carli

michael carli

giulia essyad

giulia essyad

giulia essyad

Index d’Or 22

Anomie 47

Untitled / Mill 50

Punishments Corporal 55

Holiday Bistro 58

Médiatèque 68

Hollowed Globe Sundial 71

Princess 73

Of Falabellas and New Age 75

giulia essyad

christian thompson

viktor tibay

francisco soares

loren kagny

motile

giulia essyad

giulia essyad

Hey down, sometimes it isblood clots in a txt msg

O whuddupOren goes hard& all the time saying, "Yeah, yes"

Pleasures everlasting fantasyin my cold room& all the time saying, "Undress me to the moon"

Oren txtd me all the time saying, "Some call it a shotgun against blood clots. Harvard bioengineers configure nanoparticles to eradicate blood clots without an increased risk of hemorrhaging"

I thought of him lying there with his metal chestclung to my magnet, feverishly toothpicking leukocytes from his teethI want to join him buto, it is easier said than done

michael carli

Oren

Heivfar never hurt meonly kissed meHeivfar sugar carb

He’s up on meso sweetI’ll say "How I love you, prettyboy carbohydrate"

He’s set a warmhand on the small of my back

Sugar cane Heivfar willoften lean to mehold my jawforward, liftmy eyes to hisAs I’m sleeping he rolls around all darkpresses down anddrops a breath down my throat

I am never without himHe is hard to findsynthesized; there’s no substitute

michael carli

Heivfar

michael carli

Private data

Key of node keyNumber of children in child list node degree indicates whether node has lost child since last timenode was made the child of another nodemark Pointers, parent childany childleft sibling, right sibling Pointers clustered in a networkof friends, participants As friends gossip, the algorithm will maintain a listsorted in order to its tail end Without realizing it, the algorithm will maintain for youa manner in which to post and as you type, the algorithm will maintain its habitof kissing up to you. Ease of use Pointers, parent childany childleft sibling, right sibling Pointers clustered in a networkof friends, participants iPhone as frontal lobe extension.JPG as facial muscleInternet as vital organand algorithm as a means to participate

tu t’es endormi en hiver et réveillécheveux longs débordants du lit.on a longtemps cru que la pierreest une folie qui dans la tête sommeille.

maintenant tu grattes, tu valses, tu construits de toutes petites portessans cadre. tu rêves tellement fort, dis-tuque ça t’en dissous l’âme.

il est séance tenante prouvé qu’une telle chose n’est pas. Les âmessont fabliaus, tressés, rimés avec talent par la cervelle inquiète.

Les experts portent des chapeaux en forme d’organes humainsstylisés, de cuir blanc, ils défilent icisur la terre battue de la place.

tu ne portes rien sauf des liens. les liens sont de cuir et de foinde paille tressée; les chiens tournent assoiffésc’est l’été en hollande et jusqu’en amérique.

tu comme la tortue portes sur ton dos le monde. et difforme,la bosse qu’il te fait. tu sens ton âme. tu ne la sens plus.elle miroite - morceau d’eau au soleilqui danse, pris dans la vague, et brille sporadiquement.

tu ne donnes raison à personne. la raison se conquiert lentementmais c’est une conquête à l’enverson laisse les terres, on lève les mortson remballe les va-t’en-guerre

il faut oublier la rancoeur.

et les élans belligérantsqui dans la taïga lèvent leurs boisles cris, l’adolescenceregarde le fou nu sur la placelié par ses cheveux de pailleil parle doucement de la viehumaine, cours inégald’un ruisseau jamais linéaire

giulia essyad

section de la pierre

→

il parle un language déconstruit.et certains mots sautent les lignes, d’autresse lancent satellites de la phrase.certains s’alignent indéfinishors de l’axe; une dimension est ouverteau prix d’un sens plus broussailleux.

- Cet étang il est vrai est opaque se dit-il;une reine aviséeau diamants les opales préfère.Et à elles encore les étoilesle mouvement richeet imprévisible des bourrasquesl’évolution calme vers des formesmoins simples mais plus homogènes.

assis droit sur son pilotiil dit:il y a une idée de la reine: le rouge, la fourrure blanche semée de noir.il y a la reine qui regardeses avant-bras: oui, ils sont miensj’y vois brûler l’or ancestral.les bracelets d’or, la filiation- sont des idées de la reine.la reine se penche dans sa coupeles rides du vin miment son visageoui, je suis pareilleaux profils de la monnaie, telleque me connaissent mes sujetset la monnaie, et les sujetssont des idées de la reine

Puis:

j’exigel’averse.

l’eau tombera partout mais sur moielle coulera sucrée.Le seul miracle pixelliséque ramèneront les flashssera l’apparition d’uned’une ruch eaux al véa x oles dor e ée -

un saint s’efface

Mais moi, je brûle! moi je n’attends pasde savoir de quoi je suis faite!puisque je suis si disparateun amas qui réorganiseses quartiers tous les jours!J’attache mon rêve aux piles du pont, jej’ouvre les écluses!Qu’il résiste à tout maintenant!nous sommes assemblés de poussières!oh coagulés par devoir!devoir quoi! la crue arrachela peau grecque, les yeux noirsles cils ourlés la crue les prend!- les prophètes en leur temps:habits de paillehabits flottants

c’est ainsi que l’on cherche l’or.tourne l’eau dans le tamis d’ivoireglaise dense, gris saleles cils noirs viendront tôt ou tard.

c’est ainsi que l’on chasse les pierreshors des cervelles!on secoue la tête en sifflantet la pierre cogne cogne cognele front la nuque le fonddu crâne, et s’use

comme l’use le temps.

→

En cette place battue de la Terrele vent ne cesse de forcir.L’on écrit toujours que pour uneseule personne. Et prie que tourne le pétroledans ses yeux noirs!

giulia essyad

We linger in the instant between giving and receiving,counting—is it up or down?—the time that passes as the Idea becomes mundaneand the clattering revolution ends in victory with whimpering brassand an affirmative clicking keystroke.

There it is. A multitude in a single cell.Expanses condensed, amber waves leveled and powdered, kneaded and chewed,silent circuses trembling in an energetic stillness,a single symphonic note made inky flesh,whirring organelles homogenized and congealed in snow-white endoplasm.

Our eyes strain at the flickering rows and columns,not shocked for a second at the meticulous entropycrinkling itself open before us,and we spring the dead to lifefor a gasping, screeching moment of lust and demandthat snaps back loyally to stillness.

So we march, forward in place,frame by frame, quantum by quantum,collapsing waveforms into particles,melting, tinting, and slicingdesolate beaches into red-green-blue hagiographies.

Sunshine splashes our twisted cement faces.Unmoved, panting, wheezing, we mouth out digits into the etherreceding from us as silicon buttresses rot beneath us.

We sit there, somewhere between Cause and Reason,ogling the wisdom of the Ancientsstitching our old lineage into false curvesconflating age and experiencebirthing death from our inheritancenursing decorum with pettiness.

A furious dream is still waiting here,And thronging swells still crash into shore,And I still wonder “if stars get lonely,”And you still wonder what my eyes are for.

christian thompson

anomie

→

And her gown is still shimmering, emerald and sheer,And you’re just like someone I swear that I’ve seen,And I can see through the mirror, it’s silent and clear,And there’s nothing to shining except a colorless green.

The heady whiff of latex and freshly waxed floors hits me and it’s love at first [sight.

Your needles insinuate themselves into my arm like a glacier.I’ll play it coy, and play my part, and play the game,and play it like I don’t know why we’re both here.But I can already tell your spit fits my eyejustrightand even the linoleum can’t muffle the distant echo of dank sadism,

As the water seeps then rushes inand everything in my faculties is overwhelmedand I’m freed from every contract of love and murder I’ve made beforeand I’m in the instantwhere thought can’t get inand I wish—I wish!—I could savor the icicles in my lungs.But I can’t, I’m inchoate and unchanging,swimming in senseless sensationthis is the way it’s always been as long as I can recallbubbling and gargling my sin away.

And to think I once saw you sitting alone and felt nothing.

This land will be your land and this will be mine,We’ll gather on Thanksgiving and pass around wine,And we’ll never grow old and we’ll always be scared,But we’ll never be anything less than prepared.

I want all the want you want me to have.We couldn’t care less what we all left behind.This country is a flickering, sparkling cave;I’ve finally touched—not heard—the back of my mind.

Just put your hand on my back and I’ll sigh myself asleep.

Their breath was misty, jagged, warm, and fresh,Exhausting engines sputtering inside.Though I’m not able to efface their flesh,For what it’s worth I’m satisfied.

viktor tibay

Blocks are to be traversed quickly, zapping through massive concrete arrangements. Parading between the virtues of reenactment - a touch of doric greek posture, colonial tokens of expansion, very imperial, very serious, minimalist souvenirs carved in pinkish marble, curvatures and intricate sutures of traffic marking that period when speed became a priority.

Compacted world of shared secrets, I swear I saw you naked before we met... You’ve permeated the memory of many from afar: Imagine a child being raised on skype, Mom pixelizes as satellites handle greyish noise of the skies, electric murmurs of the cosmos, servers that protest «too much, too much demand».

Walks through a virtual childhood, all digital figures actualized and here, so happy to meet them. Video-game as large as man, deep faith in making. Clasping of the land for one’s own purpose, that of a generation that stretched all across the oceans to engrave puberties like mine: Who’ll deny the opening of experience technology allows, so many colors seen for the first time on TV, so many shapes born inside filmic worlds wrapped in polished materials, surely satisfying to the hand.

Suspended comforts melt in the wind. Statewide parks of land so vast, so vast they only make sense in the screen, protected as it is by the RGBs in the distance - some sort of mask. Interlaced wires give a glimpse of the narratives now fully established and forgotten - Abortion of values unwanted - Crystallized web of chromium under the streets, all the way to Pluto. Can I google directions for the craters in Mars?

Who cares we’ll eventually get boiled by the Universe, put as many as you can of them stars on the flag.

But deconstruct permanence.

Some of your past ideals get leaked, forget a world without new embassies.You’re bound to change, like everything. You’re not immune to entropy. And neither am I.

francisco soares

→

Punishments Corporal

There’s a puddle of brown bamboo bits burnt, this land is a stove and I’ll cook as I please. Nothing to fix now I own this rusty old toolkit. Who’ll need it after global improvement of the genes: anyone can get them now, 99 cents a piece. Scraps of satin stained by purple powders: nanotechnology.

Cry of the hologram across the new sites of battle. Territory destroyed by warfare disturbs that new life, called Second.

I guess we’re bound for cyborg brilliance together: No other options at the scale of Man, angelic evolution of the species. The screen is turned off, electricity explodes. A billion new robots stroll the blocks, where else but in the sreets of an America.

loren kagny

hollowed globe sundial

princess

of falabellas and new age

of falabellas and new age

HGS music video

médiathèque

motile

motile

giulia essyad