Vienna’s old city wall ran near An der Hülben, and there’s only traces and broken sections left. They piled mud and stones, one on top of another, to protect something. Felled trees to make a field to see anyone or anything on the horizon. And after that, if the memory is right, I imagine a cloistered courtyard (also here, on An der Hülben) pierced like a needle, the gates of the Wien Kanal opening endlessly, letting out the waters of the city like a sigh. The body (whose?) never far from sight.
Blue flame burns the hottest 😉
Apparently the word mosaic comes from “muse” or “to muse” and What is musing? to Dream, Wander, Loiter… to sniff about like a dog that has Lost The Scent. Can you form the shape of these words in your mouth? The opening of anything with a capacity – like a bottle or cave. They forced the small rivers flowing through Vienna into one.
It’s round, round in one piece. Our little gate crasher, our little will, things held and shared – in the mouth or mind. And sorry what is that again? Muzzle, Tongue – like everything that is tangible is capitalized: like how it was bone but then cheek became a better word for it.
And what did the corners of your mouth do?
– Rindon Johnson & Jordan Loeppky-Kolesnik