BIO
Lewis LaCook makes things. He is a programmer/poet. He likes unstable objects. He doesn't eat enough. Send him all your money.
THESE PARTIES
The numbness subsides after a few days. The nights
billow in from
the east with whiplash on her breath. Emotion takes
the sauce
from one pan and drizzles it into the spitting of
another. Brad
and Brittany remove their apartment from the realm of
things
abstract and flesh it out in shabby chic. The surface
of her skin
pretends to play hide and go seek with the doctor,
whose days are
numbered doubly by appointment book and calendar. It
took a while
to get into. It seems to come undone. Brad and
Brittany, found
obscene by their local apellate court, take a profound
yet
shortlived interest in general studies. The numbness
comes of age
and begins to collect on its inheritance. The night,
billowing,
has forgotten how much it hates these parties. As for
the surface
of his skin, the one that doctors the personal digital
assistance
of her palms stretched beyond meaning; it begins to
smell badly
after two days. Brittany and Brad wonder where all the
emotion
has gone.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
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billow in from
the east with whiplash on her breath. Emotion takes
the sauce
from one pan and drizzles it into the spitting of
another. Brad
and Brittany remove their apartment from the realm of
things
abstract and flesh it out in shabby chic. The surface
of her skin
pretends to play hide and go seek with the doctor,
whose days are
numbered doubly by appointment book and calendar. It
took a while
to get into. It seems to come undone. Brad and
Brittany, found
obscene by their local apellate court, take a profound
yet
shortlived interest in general studies. The numbness
comes of age
and begins to collect on its inheritance. The night,
billowing,
has forgotten how much it hates these parties. As for
the surface
of his skin, the one that doctors the personal digital
assistance
of her palms stretched beyond meaning; it begins to
smell badly
after two days. Brittany and Brad wonder where all the
emotion
has gone.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
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THE SECOND MORNING OF AUTUMN
Planted in the eye, sleep seeds grow sleep trees. At
parties,
feigning a look of intense boredom. As a defense
mechanism,
trains in the distance all day long run right behind
the store;
watch them slip past with tags on their sides. The
hands in the
head that scoop up language meat.
Tags on their sides: the names balooning out to
cartoon
cities. Thank you for expressing an interest in my
work; it's
made of you, and turns slickly in the light, wishing
it were
matte because matte swallows things. The second
morning of autumn
tightly wound in the bowels where death thins out and
scrapes an
entire retro trend out of molehills never festered
enough to boil
over upon. Out, the sign intones. A sex crawls back
onto the
shore and spills flecks of gold iris between you.
Sleep seeds grow sleep trees, when planted in the
eye and
watered by smarting winds. This most inhospitable
region boasts
five intensive care units and all the latest
communicative
technological advances. Please take your hand off my
knee. I
caught their intranet and now take garlic for its
natural
antibiotic properties. The trains go by. Like days
almost, except
the trains always arrive somewhere; walking from here
to the
butcher's thumb on your scale.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
__________________________________________________
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parties,
feigning a look of intense boredom. As a defense
mechanism,
trains in the distance all day long run right behind
the store;
watch them slip past with tags on their sides. The
hands in the
head that scoop up language meat.
Tags on their sides: the names balooning out to
cartoon
cities. Thank you for expressing an interest in my
work; it's
made of you, and turns slickly in the light, wishing
it were
matte because matte swallows things. The second
morning of autumn
tightly wound in the bowels where death thins out and
scrapes an
entire retro trend out of molehills never festered
enough to boil
over upon. Out, the sign intones. A sex crawls back
onto the
shore and spills flecks of gold iris between you.
Sleep seeds grow sleep trees, when planted in the
eye and
watered by smarting winds. This most inhospitable
region boasts
five intensive care units and all the latest
communicative
technological advances. Please take your hand off my
knee. I
caught their intranet and now take garlic for its
natural
antibiotic properties. The trains go by. Like days
almost, except
the trains always arrive somewhere; walking from here
to the
butcher's thumb on your scale.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
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THE MANIFEST
I see wind because it ruffles the trees. I don't see
music. It
burns on the door at night while I'm trying to bury
myself.
Dreaming of the ruins of her life, she climbs
hand over heel
over blocks and blocks of devastation. The trees here
have been
wrenched into contortions that fling shadows too
gnarled to
breathe in over her face. In the hotel, he drapes a
red silk
scarf over the endtablelamp and waits. Swimming in so
many
contexts is funny or shaped like intrusion; their
bodies slip
through their bodies slipping through nothing solid
but the edge
of the manifest, carefully cut with a pair of scissors
from the
box and scrutinized while the vendor waits. The scarf
stains the
light the same color that ruin would be if he could
dream of the
devastation she sifts through. She finds a human leg.
Kivunjo is a Bantu language with sixteen gender
classes.
That's free. I could fall into several at once,
releasing tufts
of dust because gender is so seldom used. It wouldn't
hurt. Here
there are two, and our case-markers have dissolved. I
only know
what I'm doing by the traces of these opening and
closing the
door all night. To step over the threshold.
The vendor is always late; he doesn't enjoy
waiting for her
to go over the contents of the box with the manifest
in hand.
There are other shops along the wide road that sell
narrowness
constricted to bright colors and smooth music. These
he must get
to, before his day's end. He doesn't enjoy watching
her sift
through the box with the manifest in hand.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
__________________________________________________
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music. It
burns on the door at night while I'm trying to bury
myself.
Dreaming of the ruins of her life, she climbs
hand over heel
over blocks and blocks of devastation. The trees here
have been
wrenched into contortions that fling shadows too
gnarled to
breathe in over her face. In the hotel, he drapes a
red silk
scarf over the endtablelamp and waits. Swimming in so
many
contexts is funny or shaped like intrusion; their
bodies slip
through their bodies slipping through nothing solid
but the edge
of the manifest, carefully cut with a pair of scissors
from the
box and scrutinized while the vendor waits. The scarf
stains the
light the same color that ruin would be if he could
dream of the
devastation she sifts through. She finds a human leg.
Kivunjo is a Bantu language with sixteen gender
classes.
That's free. I could fall into several at once,
releasing tufts
of dust because gender is so seldom used. It wouldn't
hurt. Here
there are two, and our case-markers have dissolved. I
only know
what I'm doing by the traces of these opening and
closing the
door all night. To step over the threshold.
The vendor is always late; he doesn't enjoy
waiting for her
to go over the contents of the box with the manifest
in hand.
There are other shops along the wide road that sell
narrowness
constricted to bright colors and smooth music. These
he must get
to, before his day's end. He doesn't enjoy watching
her sift
through the box with the manifest in hand.
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
__________________________________________________
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Tagging the Network: An Interview with Eryk Salvaggio
Tagging the Network: An Interview with Eryk Salvaggio
http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/15239/95258
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
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http://www.suite101.com/article.cfm/15239/95258
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
---------------------------------
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ORPHANS
There are some bastards in this world, that's for
sure. Orphans
are files that have no application to skin them. I was
still
fuzzy when I rolled over to pet the cat; Renee, who
has rolled
over also, begins picking something from my back. In
such cases
the body turns on itself, literally "eating" itself to
maintain
the disease state. Hawks circle over the trees.
I turn my eyes backward in their sockets to watch
the blue
flecks jangle in the dark, which is fortunate enough
to be
everywhere, slicking her hair like oil rolling down
her legs as
the steam of a shower warms morning noisy with patter
frequencies, engaged in absorbtion with change
spilling liquid
like consonance or consience from woodgrain. A good
train of
arias flutter with hummingbird panache chakras
lullaby'd and
spinning lids for thought tall and planes naturalize
citizens
from huddling masses to demographic sandwhiches; in
cases like
this the body literally "eats" itself, Iraq and
Afghanistan in
its mouth dribbling oil down her legs to print her
toes in
psychedelic show at the bathtub Fillmore, Bill Graham
quite
proudly out in the mackeral tracking device, registers
a redness
on the screen to survey less of celibacy and more the
promiscuous
cunning. I cum money, was rally for artfulness today.
Smoking
mostly, salmonella knows how nice it is outside today,
with the
sun getting closer and closer to burning the
toppermost popping
epidermal to bliss. To be outside today is living for
tomorrow;
war by rote for market analyst silver in peacetime
aging, the
agent with the Lugar reminds us, is what you too will
want after
the implants begin; round and around is a confusion of
motion
with shape, not enough to startle us from our
television pleasure
but more likely to finish shimmying up the gold chain
dangling
from the rapper's artificial contacts.
They're skinning orphans in the square again,
those bastards
with the money falling from their artillery belts. I
roll over to
pet the cat; Renee has already slept for years, and
watches the
circling hawks with apprehension. We have no
application to
confuse our motion with our shape; opening, we only
display a
prompt in search of a context of software. The disease
state, the
agent with the hunger reminds us, is the richest and
most
powerful country in the world. We're so lucky!
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
__________________________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
New DSL Internet Access from SBC & Yahoo!
http://sbc.yahoo.com
sure. Orphans
are files that have no application to skin them. I was
still
fuzzy when I rolled over to pet the cat; Renee, who
has rolled
over also, begins picking something from my back. In
such cases
the body turns on itself, literally "eating" itself to
maintain
the disease state. Hawks circle over the trees.
I turn my eyes backward in their sockets to watch
the blue
flecks jangle in the dark, which is fortunate enough
to be
everywhere, slicking her hair like oil rolling down
her legs as
the steam of a shower warms morning noisy with patter
frequencies, engaged in absorbtion with change
spilling liquid
like consonance or consience from woodgrain. A good
train of
arias flutter with hummingbird panache chakras
lullaby'd and
spinning lids for thought tall and planes naturalize
citizens
from huddling masses to demographic sandwhiches; in
cases like
this the body literally "eats" itself, Iraq and
Afghanistan in
its mouth dribbling oil down her legs to print her
toes in
psychedelic show at the bathtub Fillmore, Bill Graham
quite
proudly out in the mackeral tracking device, registers
a redness
on the screen to survey less of celibacy and more the
promiscuous
cunning. I cum money, was rally for artfulness today.
Smoking
mostly, salmonella knows how nice it is outside today,
with the
sun getting closer and closer to burning the
toppermost popping
epidermal to bliss. To be outside today is living for
tomorrow;
war by rote for market analyst silver in peacetime
aging, the
agent with the Lugar reminds us, is what you too will
want after
the implants begin; round and around is a confusion of
motion
with shape, not enough to startle us from our
television pleasure
but more likely to finish shimmying up the gold chain
dangling
from the rapper's artificial contacts.
They're skinning orphans in the square again,
those bastards
with the money falling from their artillery belts. I
roll over to
pet the cat; Renee has already slept for years, and
watches the
circling hawks with apprehension. We have no
application to
confuse our motion with our shape; opening, we only
display a
prompt in search of a context of software. The disease
state, the
agent with the hunger reminds us, is the richest and
most
powerful country in the world. We're so lucky!
=====
http://www.lewislacook.com/
http://artists.mp3s.com/artists/385/lewis_lacook.html
meditation, net art, poeisis: blog http://lewislacook.blogspot.com/
__________________________________________________
Do you Yahoo!?
New DSL Internet Access from SBC & Yahoo!
http://sbc.yahoo.com