Wednesday, March 2, 2011

Oaf Logic 101

How does one 'engage' with a massive ball of ghouly-foam,
with dangling history-morph nozzles under denim approached
by womb factories in frilly yayas?

you fucking oaf.

if i were there i'd grab one of the handles

an ear

of your funny jug head
and pull it down to the ground
until your face kissed leaf mush

until you became the bottom of pan's foot
littered with abstract fragments of brown

what the fuck
is a sui generis boot-strapping of consciousness
in the middle of a rock field
supposed to look like?

you fucking don't know.

you can't even say

I want a temple that looks like an explosion
and inside
well i guess inside
it could be a lab called

fun
or earnest construction

it's quite understandable where humanity finds its indifference
its various and unending blindnesses

we were born into it as amoebas, into them


[comes with the suit, kid]

into a naked black howling night (or whatever,
green bee bbq wend whig mill

mull or sash til ill ulus lugus sugar busts with extruded fruit mush cauliflower ears]

huh?

like a sucking sound (grasshopper in the subway? how about

dawn's truffle furred cellphone amoeba

vacuum to vacuole
flush to flush

like mather
like psun


holy wood
blurred avenue

arc

of the forty mile long zeppelin hall
where the choirs
stand inside

a hollow glass elephant head
singing

golden mammary head-chargers
commingle in the data shooki

their long blue face wigs
dangling for miles

out the end

sprach
shkëndijë
p’aylktal
qığılcım
vonk
dzirkstele
spítha
percikan
iskra
varnica
kiss kraal
skin dj
faísca
wreichionen
tia lửa
kıvılcım

civil chem

mech-livbre
i see

and what Blake did not tell Inaureveal

that the ouroboros
whose lion's head w/ a medusan snake mane
is nought but a bead on a ring
and that that bead's face

is grimace of glimmers

a glimace

a valence

a trinkle