it's good to fork things up!


 
Scale  Matters! matters

  everything here is 

    4orkological!

forkological dependence

beads of time, beads of tine passing through teeth

  

a configuration of time somewhere,
not everywhere

 

 

 

 

Welcome to the online 

Institute of 4orkological Studies

forkergirl has fun with Mardi Gras beads of multiverse.

Welcome to her forked theory of everything

            —limited edition   COME ON IN

specializing in Limited Fork Theory

these sites are similar, related, tines of each other; not all information is shared
and information is configured differently —in both Limited Fork neighborhoods:

there's lots to fork around with!


including now (22 September 2010) a video for ONE WORD book (forthcoming from Sarabande) featuring forked text written by Thylias Moss from her sixpack essay in One Word 

got to love forkology!  forkology rocks!

check out 
the discarded t-shirt limited fork project

watch the video promo below



    particle popping 
in force enforced!


proudly serving 
mid-hudson taffy here

 forked home of the institute of forkological studies

 

To visit a flash-based website, go here: 4orked.com

 

Hello to my Toledo Friends!  Let us bifurcate together and dine on wonderful ideas; we will bifurcate above and below ground, rather like trees, anchored with roots that cling and spread in soil while our branches spread even between dimensions, temporarily connecting them -–I don’t think that any connection is or can be permanent; that is one reason that we must eat again and again (ideally stopping when we feel full, even though the feeling of fullness is temporary).  

         We will hunger again.  Everyday.  Probably several times a day.

Please think, if you don’t mind, for a moment of ceiba trees, or of any tree you have liked –-forgive me, please, for assuming that there is a tree you’ve liked.  If you dislike trees, this may not be a post for you, but I leave here a small interest in trees, a small interest that may become something else. 

Each tine of a limited fork also functions as a root and/or a branch and may curve, circle, disappear for a while, temporarily connecting things, possibly even snagging something tasty, something possibly nourishing, something that can be ingested –-maybe without harm(ing us), but what is ingested will change during this process, and we may change, so the temporary connections is also a means of exchange: we give something and we receive something;  we may not realize immediately that we are different, but we are. 

 




forkergirl

Posted 5 days ago

theanimalblog:

Dagmar the Rothschild giraffe nuzzles her newborn calf in their enclosure at Chester Zoo in Cheshire, England  Picture: REUTERS/Phil Noble

Posted 2 weeks ago
Posted 2 weeks ago
Posted 2 weeks ago
Posted 2 weeks ago

blacksandbooks:

Last Chance for the Tarzan Holler

Thylias Moss

ISBN 0892552433

The latest volume of this important and highly original poet’s work is a three-part journey into the pathology of human emotions. In a cascade of language — ordinary speech, preaching, song, banter, erudition — all that is good spirals into regions of horror and grotesque inconsistency with consequences as contemporary as headlines and as eternal as myth. Intense and brilliantly sustained, these poems limn the humane being tested, the plunge into strangeness, and finally recovery, the salvaging of wonder after all.

Posted 3 weeks ago
Posted 3 weeks ago

This Did Not Happen by Thylias Moss

kathleenjoy:

This did not happen



although I have memories of it:
a doctor unwrapping a tutu
so I knew I was in a hospital
but one unlike any other
practicing strange medicine
but this strangeness has been effective


A hospital for dancers?




I was in pink,
sequined

I had been in a street,
an alley and

I was left there, tutu shredded,
I couldn’t dance

anymore.

No animals other than myself, so the animal
in me

emerged



but tried to hurt no one

else.

Posted 3 weeks ago

This Did Not Happen by Thylias Moss

kathleenjoy:

This did not happen



although I have memories of it:
a doctor unwrapping a tutu
so I knew I was in a hospital
but one unlike any other
practicing strange medicine
but this strangeness has been effective


A hospital for dancers?




I was in pink,
sequined

I had been in a street,
an alley and

I was left there, tutu shredded,
I couldn’t dance

anymore.

No animals other than myself, so the animal
in me

emerged



but tried to hurt no one

else.

Posted 3 weeks ago
Posted 3 weeks ago