Thursday, April 24, 2014

Kainos and Disabled: Our Holocene as Gümüş Kol



the supremes of noise
are my chipmunks' faucet's
farrago



babylove
my babylove
ooo ooo ooo
the pirate had a metal mechanical arm
and was the slayer of muslims
and christians both



he was hunted down
by privateers
in the algerian desert
in 1649



there are chipmunks living 
in your henna beards 
hipsters
the supremes of noise



holocene
Omar Qaddaffi
shaved squirrels cage



a url
by a baked adobe' wall
babylove
my ai rubber food tool


ooo ooo
babylove
my long stone stool
is following me
to pamper hammocks
underground
is sleep happy surgery


this mechanical turk arm
has stayed alive all these years
plugged into the wall
playing supremes albums
for cheese
in a barrel of shaved henna squirrels


right away
i knew we would be friends
dean martin
descended from the windy ethiopian plains
and beside the tiny url ouija
and vests of cotton balls
the last pekingese on earth
chased out into the algerian desert
by metal arm girl child falconeers


smoothies
under the reign of beethoven


the mentats drained something on my shoe


i came unmoored and began to drift
away from the colossal pantagruelian kennedy
my knitted was warm
the winter
like a juice harp nose hair plucking
bernie madoff with metal smoothie hands
spinning the supremes
in the algerian desert

VISIT THE ROMAN RUINS
AT TRIPOLI


charcoal
is made from dead stuff
once wine was mixed with sea water
in wooden bowls
the music of the hagfish

saint john the leninist
religion ideology assasination insanity and art
all roled up
in one conversation
about conversation
converting 
communication
into transformation
for metal arms

dreamin my life away
oooo ooo oo
babylove


you can't judge a book
by its frankenstein


poetry hides the trauma inside the vase
renders the vase lovely
immortal and invincible
and makes of us
ontological cartoons
fulfilling the prophecy
of gap-antics


i could've hired a heretic to do this
but then I'd cease to be
the supreme noise
of the universe


santa claus
nude
with the shadow elves
surfing ouija urls


you've come a long way baby


but did you get that far?



yonder
the supreme noise wakes
its burden wafting up
like blankets of metal arms
bernie madoff's head
sewn onto the body of a little girl
an algerian pyrite
the game led off at once
a combination
of yard darts
and old fashioned bell candles
the gap's equality
is never parallel 
but always 
para


today i am a pirate
tomorrow
a sea horse
and the hose i toe
spews a thinking code
even my ink has a cunning bacteria
if you believe it 
john lenin religion ideology insanity assassination


i'll let you touch my metal arms
my woodwind bassoon arms
if you'll drop the cargo of genitals 
your great sea turtle carries
leonardo davinci
was full of sea genitals
dancing


if you've always had a problem
you'll never have one now
that being said
let's chase a pekingese


really?
in flatbush?


and if you need money or food
just flex your metal digits
and pyrite squirrels
will come running from your pubic beards
to shave the ouija urls
down to their root address
where the farrago begins


royal college!


and gravity is the beard
i dance on
ooo oooo ooo
baby dove
my baddy blood
missed kissin ya
o all i do is screach and fight
and all i do is hiss the white


starbbblle bladdrer rain
shower
reign
shower
this chisel is a bent index
a prison 
of its own
rewards


now
you will associate
negative-epistemology
with shakuhachi
and nocturnal indigo
bonfires
on the plain

"?why have you taken my metal arms?"

falconers
with the heads
of pekingese
and the bodies
of ragusan
sailors


Sunday, April 20, 2014

Cicero, discussing the precautions taken by augurs to avoid embarrassing auspices, states:



quoiho sakros es ed sord iaias recei lo euam quos re m kalato rem ha od io uxmen takapia dotau m i te r p e m quoiha uelod nequ od iouestod loiuquiodpo turpi sacra trahit in luto. tamquam me ipsum sermo Ostendit quod meum risit, ut sentit odd quemque impeditam uxorem lenior fit, ut si quoi abundavit in nuditate, stare contra hostem an MONSTRUM in omni liquore.






I think I'll learn to play the talking drums.


Don't you think a skull
is like a studio
with doors so small the art can't leave
and windows so dirty
that chimpanzees erect crows in rows
to serve as the artifice
for the long low swinging
down sacrificial way?


19
K
hilga
first the starlight
and then the foggy damp fee
crickets s(w)ing this way
as if all memories
are equally weighted
and one single narrative
doubles
instead
according to its own auspices


It's hard to say, but
first you see a construction
and then you construct,
and there is no destruction really,
but the emotion, really,
it is emotion that decides
to run with everything.
There are gaps I suppose
within the destruction
where emotions can't reach.
And everyone ignores the picture
mostly.


It is that time.
You forage for a bell in a junkyard,
and when you find that bell, you say:
RING!



How to become the Oracle of Delta,
by Delphine Knoyursleff III..


I'm really,
really tired,
of having to swim all day in your reports.


I'll just keep studying this~
~this oabjection...


look,
you can draw a kind of picture
that no one will ever see, and that even you may not see all too clearly,
or may forget, the main idea though, is that
wherest you go, you are drawing, and that drawing
may be a drawing to yourself
or a drawing of an away to yourself, at any rate,
knot know wing...


I scratched you off my list.
I scratched you onto my list.
I scratched.
S.


let them see the pure line,
and let them dispute it.
Ut pictura poesis, 
like a black ray
from a mirrored egg:
the dynamic mother tuvaluskit
had
even Homer nods
and on the brightest yellow cupcake...




hulle kan baie verskillende ug ang mga




boundary wave front disciple izinto
ngiko ngaphandle abayikho hulle
kan baie verskillende ug ang mga
butang sa daghan nga mga dumu
loong karon ug dili sa lain nga igo
ug wala gayud na sa lain nga tafod
lleferydd mater yn yn rhithweledi
gaeth ei hun ac mae'r cig yn adeilad
disglair canu o rhithweledigaeth byth
yn dod i ben existuje mnoho věcí
příliš velké a příliš malé měřit
a my jsme jen mnoho a mnoho
sklo stroj čeká sklo stroj čeká
boundary wave front disciple

Friday, April 18, 2014

daruma!




drūma! drūma!
tie ir daudz vairāk paveicies, nekā tēja
tēju pasniedz pāva bungas!
lai ir aizsteigušies pa grunti
trūkst jebkādu kontūras
un rotā ar rūc

drūma! drūma!
kur desmit apakštasītes pabarotu savas cepures
par mežonīgas uztveršanas
tie nometne šķidro teltīs
piemēram, vīnogu māju vientuļniekiem
vecās mājas tiek saspiesti
un vecs, un samts
neskaidrs
zivju kaps-mēbeles
kas žesti ir opāls burbulis lelles

drūma! drūma!
burti nav gaļas
viņiem nav prātā
ne orgānus vai kājām
un tie tikai smarža
ar tinti
burti ir burbuļošana bungas