school of words

words words binge word binge twitch tweak things spin fin work shark word whale how to produce words like schools of fish, schools of words swimming through book pages, sharks like titles backfins like quotation marks cirkling like lions, like tigers, pupils dilated to their utmost comprehension point, their utmost sign of recognition delight, pupils dilating like balloons filling with hot air writing down the teacher’s words words on the black board, the teacher’s factory-made thoughts, mystery meat, a problem with meat on it, let’s dig in deep like lions like tigers dissecting a still-warm carcass with fangs like scalpels, claws like meat scissors, the taste of knowledge in our teeth results on our breaths, let’s solve these words in their complex yet simple formations, like spinning plates like a school of fish spinning out of control, without control all trying to get away from the predator while staying close to others, a vortex of nothing but blank confusion and fear spinning around in the schoolyard, tag and skipping ropes in oblong movement circles, how to produce the wrong words in all the correct orders so teachers will grant passing grades for things that still mean something, the recess not the only space for words words the words that matter the words that express inner reality, swear words, sweat words, the words outlawed, banned from the reality of the score board, the black board, keep score of your grades bet on the fastest horse the fastest mind the reddest herring in the race to survive grow up and become someone whose words matter, words that matter being said in contexts where the words are reproductions of age-old habits, how to keep the words that don’t fit in, make them the glue that holds fish together in a school, stay close to the teacher don’t get lost don’t lose your head, bite into the main artery in the throat right by the windpipe this producer of spoken word this tunnel with light at the end of it always infected with a virus from outer space, a double virus of the meaning of the thing and the word for the thing all scrambled up like morning eggs, like fetal chickens still in their birthday suits of oblong orbs while being prepared for a meal or being prepared for taking form, surviving growing up, learning to sing with their own beaks like music class like playing the triangle, the double triangle like a double virus of notes scribbled across endless pages from scratch, mozart as a four-year-old, barely out of the egg, look father I made this symphony from scratch, not a baker not banging eggs like heads against tables to make them crack open and reveal the contents of the mind, not opening minds just pouring silently from his own through the quill leaving dots like carbon footprints across prison pages, almost arbitrary, completely logical, all the music locked up in rhythm, in a structure of starched knowledge of form and content, an information system like a word for each note and each duration of the note, like words like a school of fish swimming through a flooded prison, all these words flowing from schooled hands into blank data filling up like an aquarium to the brim like the glass of water that occupies the nervous hand and lends a welcome pause to the speech

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