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

  • Sick Bed

    The bed with it’s blanketsand it’s lazy stare of woolit’s pomposity of pillowsand chill of sheetand I am the old faring coal panblaze the dome that this bedhas becomemy brown hide sweatsand the follicles prickle outas if cactus were my… Continue reading

  • On the Alphabet

    How line, circle and curvecross the worldand bring our songto itby fish and hookcattle and grassesthe plain and the poolto catch a day’s passageto document a volume of night to signify mouth and cupfork and knifethe maw of a forest… Continue reading

  • She Spat Pomegranate Seeds…

    She spat pomegranate seeds on my lap and kissed me like a sweep of cushions and breakers grasped me with both arms and said ‘i’ll take you’ I followed up a hill and as the old poets say, we walked… Continue reading

  • Taking a break at 'Willum

    Listless soporific holidays up North,she, listless and unlistening,no embrace on arrival, no hug on departureand a spare roomher face like the land,a geology of talk over centuriesemitted as rumbleher voice like tectonic heatherquiet and frictive her body elven and her… Continue reading

  • Ventriloquility

    Another google first my icon for Ventriloquility – Marco Polo Ventriloquility n the state of displacedness upon the execution of the act of ventriloquism. Continue reading

  • A Poetive Intervention

    “The mind – it makes flowers.” – Paul Auster The mind is … a fecund flower a watering can a seed packet  and happy downpour a gardenera bee a zephyrand an unceremonial pile of manure and the selfsame mind originally… Continue reading

  • She Said No

    and I wanted to know what you thought and I want you yes. Simply yes. yes, it’s true.. yes I know yes yes yes and yes I want you and still yes and whatever anyone in the world says including… Continue reading

  • On Loss

    It presses my soulsas snowfall in all winter’s dayand I am now opento sudden fallthrough puzzled ravinesfooting unknotted toearth, a day’s illnessfor a sun’s contagion it’s a gift for the common welch,to pass through salonswhere the suggestionof presence runs through… Continue reading

  • A Venomous Poem

    Strung and hogtied along in preludes overtures belled for your love and you lap it as fountain for abandon yes you have anotherapple in the pantrytop left and no mistakefor teacher and though the musicrang to youand the signature read”this… Continue reading

  • Finch

    Where do you fly, small finch?And where do you nest?And whenyou are with your brethrenwhy do you flock in sevens?Finch, when you fly, where do you go to? And when your flock of sevens fly curlicue what shape did you… Continue reading