Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Chan-Du, the Madjicien...

How vaguely do the rays push up
Mountains in their hands push up
Roofs and gardens to the touch
Ardent for the qualifiers to

How vaguely the muscles in their skin
Muscles likely friend
Running lake the reeds in Pan descend,
Ars din for the fiery waterfalls to

How vaguely do the barmy need their
BARMH how vaguely the thin marks are
not pictures not sounds but remarks
made upon a programme upon the dark

In Winter the wind moves through the trees
and leafless slys the harque
now busier than the barque

boaty gondoliers
saying sneering to their peers

What off is thee?
What off?

A priest is a machine like a lark
where an angle of two sounds begins an arc
between two pals
two pals multiplied by a trillion'd art

the priestly ledger's will conceals
the leer

There is a membrane between us and them,
and that membrane is the knowledge of 'the art'

that all of reality


and culture is the story
about the fitness of a fart

you think this heartless?
I think knot.

I am fat with knots.

I am El Gordo Gor'diana.