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

  • For Blossom'

    It’s her eyes and the circles underneath them her rhythms of month and night Her friends her purse her handbag Her boobs Her labour Her pool Her blood The waters she swims Her belly Her brood and her guy Her… Continue reading

  • Hylozoism

    Dread zero is some rule to a shelled flight of bicycles no family stabled your cruel sisters my brothers vile of whichever island name though, according to Geneva and our passports for city lights, these commonalities of Loki, his sun’s… Continue reading

  • Generic

    I am neither excitable or excited, the doctor looks at me and blinks, and I have listened to promises of a few men wanting to kill me and some women whispering sweet death They have talked to me of accent… Continue reading

  • Stuck in the guts of time

    Stuck in the gut of timethe thrice spiderand the twiceszeroes ruler for glowginseng christoshelios sturm und drangsuture skipper shorelinesflinderbox base jumper grown to wide echoof valley towns and their mesastop of the flat bluffblows the bill duck puffer as wizenned… Continue reading

  • I don't want heart

    I don’t want heart It cracks like lightning Whips my face It burns my limbs It shivers my timbers Shaves my jaw It cooks my bark And freezes my trees Shoots my roots Cleans my mouth Feeds my plants Cools… Continue reading

  • Swinging from the hammock

    Swingin’ from the hammock Pessoa in the stringnets Haddock makes the Captain not quite about the etiquette more about the panic titanic manic xanax organic cynic onyx photonic phatic phonics city pretty ditty i like the crass grafitti forgetting shiney… Continue reading

  • Wednesday's Agony

    you only have balls if you can break your own. you only have guts if you’ve chewed them you only have brains if you crumbed and fried them with thought you only have heart if you bleed you only have… Continue reading

  • Tie 'em

    The mine is mine the mao is now the mayo is payo te he he the neighs they knows the knees they seize the wound they groomed the rub the shaft rob the ree the roay the me demi am… Continue reading

  • A Sri Lankan at Lue

    The quiet murmurs and steam rifts from potholes and road bumps little Tamil, computer Hakim, on the Bengal bay Island South-East as mirage of ocean surface my mate, Aravinda, or Adam we call ’em, owns a taxi but in Sydney,… Continue reading

  • Timehorse, Museum

    Surry Hills in the shod clough in the stirrup bit the bridle shame on myth story of the mitt for univocity latticed longhand she caught bars of Isoscele song draft seadrift weed roads past doors sour the orb atop The… Continue reading