Physical Suicide Deterrent System Project

If You Will...

Art is the fruiting body of love, much like a mushroom is the fruiting body of a mycelium. When the conditions are right, love, or life-force, is converted from its hidden yet expansive existence into a magnificent perceivable embodiment. And, much like a fungus, art is a digestion of so much rotten stuff, a celebration of all the death and failure which feel opposite to love and life, but reminds us and emphasizes what health and happiness does exist. For what seems more fertile than a happy mushroom springing forth from a blackened rotting log, and what more triumphant than the sad song of a survivor?

…

Furthermore, this process is not auxiliary, but central to the survival of the given organism. You might go ahead and call art spiritual metabolism. 

on the mesa

the haters

and the makers of maza

and breakers of broken laws

menders of swollen pause

benders of bells

placaters

plate shifters’ tectonic conduit

fake grifter really trying to help

plastic kelp

hanging in a waiting room

bathing in masturbating gloom

radiant agents of discreetly grey sheep

webbed fingers and splayed feet

clay creek bed path to the beach 

laugh ‘til you leak

juice from the corners of your cheeks

mandible vegetable manipulable vesicles

the breast is full of the milk for your festival

it's like finding a $20 bill in your pocket...

postpone the eventual arrival of your mangled destiny

silly ghost cat with protruding vestiges of whiskered life

bloody

kissable 

chunks

of a warm blooded body

floating in an apparition

ghoulishly singing some heartening carol

as you (as I) shuffle in place

trying to figure out how i dreamed this up

if i dreamed this up

and from what shady crag of truth did this profit grow