Tuesday, March 29, 2011

Far Out West


Coolidge in high Sonny Rollins mode
far out west
U.S. Route 666
big red monochromatic demon
demi, the demoness, etc~
i digress

actually, i devolve.

devo, harpo,
joppa, java,
sitting in low japanese garden
the black stone house, the wide eaves
with their concealed reliefs facing down
underneath carved from cinnabar
or irish cheese, its your novel,
finish the image


bamboo in circular beds of raised ceramic abstraction
like flaming coral, ceramic arches plumbed secretly with gas
to be lit discreetly, the garden as bardo

okay, i devolve
into dancing ceramic robotic foo dogs
with kinetic manes of laser quills
with self-wetting ink-pad-paws
they calligraphy using ink-surge-skid
on living paper of transfigured oyster
micro video pearls faintly blinking
from their sacred and invisible stomachs

the burr grinder singing through a microphone
through a pedal effects barage
a monkey climbs an endless topological array of illuminated ropes
out over the jungle

Mr. Izardrey
only in the hand written diaries
we should return to him
all this because I couldn't decide
on how to approach the idea of a novel

I wanted a statue.
I wanted a poem.
I wanted a living building, who didn't?
I wanted a cinematic sculpture
as a sacred text which might accidentally
destroy the earth, or make it holy again,

actually, i devolve.

i cook things.
simple things.

or i make smoked salmon sandwiches on dark rye bread
with butter lettuce and left over pepper bacon and avogadro's

the waiting room
and a cigaretten

i see little inca mummies
vacuum packed in horizontal freezers
i see refridgerators
as funerary niches

i see
tiny prairie horses
suddenly come bursting out from the edge of the garden
wearing apache war bonnets
crow and toucan
koi and can-can

these native eohippoiai all have names like

chix nab
hungum bala
yaptao fusshi
bongbong lo
the ashcan school
and melba blackcherry
igia imhur

13% human, but only in the facial features
and the honeycombed blue n-sect genitalia
architext dripping electrified honey

a flow of irronism, of irreducible solidus
sold as virtuality

i devolve, i throw a party
Cochise and Francisco ambushed the party
i become a plant cow

i see a black skull
extruding blonde hair in a prairie
each hair a tunnel for egg sac futurust wrist resting
now still white
like porcelain blood cells
hiding a shellless headless
set of turtle organs
made from neon
i see

Coolidge in high Sonny Rollins mode
far out west
U.S. Route 666

I see Fu Manchu
now penitent in a Japanese garden
doing calligraphy
imagining things

like prehensile neon trees
which drip hollow acrylic volumes
that can be filled from the fountains
and taken into the mountains
where the weird shrines beckon

with lowly comforts

with eohippoiai
who carry little AI eggs on their backs
old souls or data constructs
that meditate
on random egg saddles

in great new forest humwawa

today's term might be
or it might be
lambda wool stadium
to echo the pi-scene

nowhere is there any mention
of the occultusk
the stuttering constant

how noon
become its
high age metaphor



nug tif

*"Cochise's Stronghold. In the rugged Dragoon Mts. off Route 666 near Willcox, Arizona. ...". Color chrome-style printed postcard. Published by Phoenix Specialty Adv. Co., Phoenix, Arizona. Number 13563. Number A-57. Unused. Circa 1950s. [This is 8 miles west of U. S. 666 and is easily seen from 666].