ARP – THE WORKS OF ARIEL RIVEROS PAVEZ

Field theory of the senses. autotheory: noumenology of psychosis, chronesthesia as pre-diagnostic association prose, poetry

Latest Posts

  • I'll have half

    half hate it when i’m declasse*. the other half hate it when i use language like that. and everyone must like me or at least half of them. half love the full flight the other half don’t get it. and… Continue reading

  • Descartes

    “I’ve not seen The Matrix but I’ve seen many films like it.” – Roger Penrose “Everything is everything.” – Donny Hathaway An apartment in Nantes, France March 23, 1623. Rene Descartes has some time alone. A mug of ale, a… Continue reading

  • Transference

    I’m looking more like you everydayand what you do I do. When I am your doubleit is said you will die And I take your name, your placewaiting for the next victim to kill me Continue reading

  • Masking

    bare faced and fire-flushed the tragicomedia drops to floorrepulsed am I with the monotoneface with no music, a sleep’s a wellsoft attacked, and a top register of tripping temperatureof hair on end, and the sphere of heraldsblowing alarms. tablature and… Continue reading

  • I Don't Know You Anymore

    Sit yourself down  And warm yourself up There’s no fireplaceIn the city house And no heaterIn the cabin Your long term absenceSparks off invective You must warm upThe pallor of your face Makes you unrecognisableTo my bittersweet flash scrutiny Here,… Continue reading

  • Play It Again Sam Beckett

    What was was? And what was, was. This here was here not there, not near. What was, was not not noise not knot not what, not here not this noise nice, not here no noise no ice no eyes nose… Continue reading

  • Municipality of Ashfield Derive 4/11/15

    My affinities with certain artists and poets – this also means especially a wren with butterflies as lotus, and her notebook… i’ve walked the continuity of parks repeatedly, finding food, rings, playing cards on the street i also found the… Continue reading

  • First – a prose poem

    For ab The one. The only one. I’ve read happiness and the truth about pain in glossy magazines. Who.? Who is first? Who’s the one? We look back to our loves like books. “In this catalogue, you were the beautiful… Continue reading

  • Aeaea

    isling an aisle islet of hands trace of veins ink copied post circle aiaia throw song patch up rain sweep dry the street it cometh in sheets weep right  blanket of snow willow of sleet sleeping pillow plotline of neck… Continue reading

  • Work on Air

    the sky is firmfor sole of feetsolid is thickened ozonelike soil as shield beneathfor sole of feet someone flies methis time like a kitethis time someonethis time not me play timeme firmamelle-amentemevisual transplantaudial orbitplastic haptic melancholaliaphasis a river appears staticappears… Continue reading