Friday, October 15, 2010

Epi-Logue of Weaverdemon

people are lost in the radiant summer,
but their supple mouths have opened
into song, and the grassy uneven hemispheres
where they wander cause them all to get along.


these radio telescopes have emptied, and their
control shacks grown dark. some kids are
down in there skate-boarding, and
talking shop.

with power and "livingstone"

(wit does not fly) but heals

come to the harbor of architectural icon balloons
to meet me:

some poets are hovering in an infinite green void
in which the merest thought becomes an object
and soon there is a fog of objects:

a catastrophically beautiful crust,
a realm of coruscating and concentric debris,
a place-no-place where random collision and |violence|
has become synonymous with beauty
[disjunct: thought, or world? choose.]

a place where perception's apparatus
may render noise unto itself as poesy
and the apparatus is not-only trans-subjective
it can be purchased
and one can be fitted (green hemispheres)

The y has u
They had reached the demesne of Otaku
a house came galloping out of thin hair:


"there is an idealized mouth whose stones
are both tones and carvings and whose invisible
side is only made more mysterious by the visible
trans[E]duc(A)tion." you are encountering someone

restored to life
greet them with warm affect


people are lost
in the gibberish of violent unknowing
and in the mighty requiem of knowledge

[How can we imagine a Ukiyo-e of brilliant depth infused with Baudrillard?]
Before fully recovering from the exhaustion
of seeing the brilliant universe in decline
or growth
or the complete darkness of unknowing
of the absolute brilliance of absolute light
flux and knoweldge


my innards parting

(fall) a season

"The imagining of thought is more precious than thought itself."

In 2012 Jobin Wiudo refers to porcelain weaverdemons
whose tears are flexible mechanical jeweled robot building icons

It is always Soryi who says this
in the years and eons of

Genroku (generative-rock-you)