Monday, November 29, 2010

Laut-Twreck: Hageoscynique.


In no time at all, the disturbed and disabled children had crossed the courtyard to welcome the one they considered their own, Henri Toulouse-Lautrec, who happened to be visiting the Hôpital Bicêtre that day with his friend François Gauzi and Dr. Bourges.  Making incomprehensible sounds like weird, and painfully barking dogs, the children pulled at Henri's little clothes, made twisted faces, and gnashed their teeth in wildly shifting miasmas of glee, torment, confusion, and approval. Suddenly, Henri was suffused with a charmed light:

The world was laughing, a saint.
Henri stood in for an ornery, and 'too loose' 'laut-trek', or 'laut-wreck'..

Henri knew at once, that the trek is a wreck, and that all sound is noise,
and that it's meaning is music, or movement.

He stood still, Hageoscyniqued, Omphalostiphied.

Sainted, the deformed cynic-genius had been reclaimed 
by the deformed madness of youth imprisoned.

Art is the religion of the deformed.
All reality is deformation,
since reality is the registration of a reflection,
a registration whose deformation
is the essence of transduction 
which leads as traduction,
a spectacle dishonored.

But he who dishonors the spectacle does not give forth
the beer-foam-nimbus of pure calligraphy.

Let the Ornery Sainthood of Matter Deepend
on Cyclopian Loin Nipples 

pilgrim
cave
youth

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