Thursday, June 30, 2011

Something from Ed.

Eddie died this year, but here is somethng he sent me June 28, 2008.
The picture above is what I sent back to him.

Nobody speaks to me.
At least I don't get spam.
It's the ideal condition from which to contemplate those things that elude
the dance of language, danger, and desire. Sitting perfectly still, I can
see out beyond the confines of my body, as if I were sitting under a distant
tree, thinking.

When one leaves one's body, the first thing to think about is how a
disembodied soul should behave. Your first thought is "I'm finally free!",
and you try to fly upward, which is when you realize you are still tied down
to the material world, and that flying directly upward would quickly result
in death. So you discover that movement in 3D space is not a good idea, and
you stop to think : "How did I get here?"

All about you, you see souls flying upward to be extinguished by contact
with suns, and you start to think about that old ugly woman who talks to
you, the old woman from the islands, the one who takes care of you, and you
remember what she always says to you:

"My Son, are you drunk again?"
"No ma'am."
"Pull your pants down and let me have a look."
"Yes ma'am.

And your opinions of Beauty shift. The eye that constantly scans the world
for evidence of a cute leg or bottom or tit relaxes - and looks outside
itself. One day you are looking at the world, and in the next instant all
you can see is what your Eye is looking at. The World unfolds beneath you,
and somewhere down there your Eye is taking it all in, but you have lost
direct connection with it.

And your ugly Mother, you ask her to kiss and fuck. When she starts to comb
her hair back down and put on a T-Shirt, you realize with alarm that the
night is over, and you are on your own again. Alone.

book colon

here's how the tanguy thing is looking today.

Rodney Calligan

audient inter ovoid shedding facies
tea autre' the outre
films of war shown on white horses fucking

a pink gourd
a yellow gourd
a pale green gourd carved of jade
housing a parrot foetus
in a yolk of banana pudding

cooked to a thumb
licensed to an ogre
whose body like an orgy
receives many delicious visitors
headless horsemen
their mounts
toward a war of fucking

which race rises ascendant through fucking?


Volvo indepedent machinery Apple Computer talk vagina wedding

Oranges fill a boudoir
for staircases

Staircases sex the longing to look

the curve of any magicion
con card dracula
narrative function

what function a ball to plop out
roll around
plop back in?

These vicissitudes cannot be quantum
where Ugolino saws through the enormous fly's leg
to take sup of its hearth wine

mint electricity beater
cock in a roman haircut
Laurel Bacall's my mane fried

Ceramic bull bed
lift up the rib section to see the red satin interior
naked voluptuous odalisque inside
female minotaur
sucking a bloodcicle
or is that a cicada microphone

brain cast in blood
seen beneath a giant green glass thumbnail
there's just this big green leather thumb
inside a pale blue room
with a brain of blood
under a green glass thumbnail
the size of a car hood


Last night while I was painting, I sort of had a small epiphany about why there are so many ice cream metaphors floating through painting. At a certain mix and color paint behaves just like ice cream! Makes me want to do a performance painting with real ice cream. Picked up Tardi / Manchette's West Coast Blues through Interlibrary loan, and had it delivered scant blocks from my abode. I heart public libraries.

token: sample: avenue:

+control tower jet `box
rectangle section flourish single color
^chair lean
eye back labor briefed"
supple radiant silent abandon drone
uninteresting perfection
very clean#
easy ^to clean again
white bored polar `taxis

flesh questioned
quest fashion
flash jettisoned
ingestion quaint beau-severe
a lightning any direction
out from the flexible rubber ear-shield (Roman a clef)
through any semi-solvent plane
or ^intention
vague increase"

les pulpo

awareness the book
to rethink (ace(
the big thick sound
or if transparent pages
call the text back `out onto the page

hulk of hovering loose pages
forbidden planet

will bidden unto ethernity

glass or bread not puerile

hulking mass modulating discretely

yoke (what
token: sample: avenue"

bright husks
shed to a science
in silence's fold

too much
too many
tomb gesticulating
with memorial robot dancers
"transparent mermaid-trees"

revealing emergency orders
of enameled billiard balls

abstract green felt solid in park

other balls
on non-horizontal surfaces

at night
the pockets
light up

or listen
and record the passersby

Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Von Karl


Toppings: Eshu Vom Marmingus

In the theatre, or play version of the rolling metaphor, Saint Anthony
comes out like Jack Benny draped in hissing beasts like a diva in squirming rags
and distractedly he swats at the ney parasitical encumbrances, but the camera,
which shouldn't be there, obviously, pulls back, and then up, violently, and
accelerates, leaving through a hole in the center of the champagne-colored
sky-light to traverse vast domains of sublime meteorology detached from
any specific locale, exquisite, dense, school cubes of flying snakes, cubes
of liquid hair whose nucleus might be a brain of india ink actively suppressing
any obsidianate reflection to remain matte and still as the centre of the universal storm, and only
once does a long thin crystal needle emerge like the name for a state which existed
only once and will never exist again.


To taste the rind of the Anchoy:
Jack Benny in black-face
does Othello
felling leaches.
What exactly is instructive in the knowledge
that green is the color of Mohammed?
There are deep solemn caverns on every continent.

And even sand comes into will.
Carolyn Exner

Hayatı ıskalama

      gazlı yaşam
          ne önemlidir lüks
aşk üzerinde kaçırmayın
lüks köpüklü, bir ferman kafası
Bir an çalmak için şanslı alabilir

          Dostluğu klavyelerinde
yaşamı monitörlerinde arayanlar
Geri dönüşüm kutusunda saklanabilir
mi kaybolan zaman
      Hayat ıskalamayı affetmez

Kafamda bir kız adı var
bir lüks hissediyor

          i yatakta ünlü olduğumda
Lütfen lüks içinde dilimin koymak için
Eğer kışın büyük bir parti için bir tekne çekersiniz
      benim pantolon dışında

i koridor boyunca size bakarsanız
benim pantolon büyük bir şey olduğunu sanmıyorum
ben sadece bir kuru üzüm bazı humus var

ben sadece bir üzgün flüt ÖS
      yaprakların yavaş bir göktaşı içinde

      Hepimizin nefesi kesilmek
ölen yılan gibi

Drawing instant electronic circuits on paper | KurzweilAI

Drawing instant electronic circuits on paper | KurzweilAI

The Post-Modern Condition [The Inn of Strange Meetings]

Oh Lee,

We were strangers who never visited the sea together as they did.
They were not fascists, but made their tymbals after a god in bricks
for an invisible Empress. In Russia, in the mirror of the arctic which we fed
with dancing bears, our hosts came bleeding and we sang for them
in walls the color of dusk, syzygies hospitable in every resonance for their
hearts were as valves of precious color, and as these days go by
I long for you more, and I think more about you now that you are gone,
and if I sit in a chair whose back is straight up, the whole lordosis of this
memory is forced to sing, Empress of bricks in the Arctic mirror tettix,
tin hand brushing hair, face whose eyes have no fate to ladle, our mouth
as one syllable, oh Lee, if only their ignorant news were only shock 
to a wooden flue, these cold hyle rabbits pushed out in Autumn where
the pigment gets loaded by whistling distracted stevedores in dark knit 
toboggans with patches laid on of bulldogs or skulls in top hats
wearing monocles.. Oh Lee, our child is ancient Egypt, and Pan goes
sneaking through the reeds to encounter a nymph made of moonlight
dancing alone on the waters. Holy. Holy. 

Eskimo kisses in Summertime,

Tuesday, June 28, 2011

This is not a Condo, but it is an odd nose (or noise)..


Kevin Hollered "Cock"...

(whatever): Bu servisten çok memnun kalacaksınız çünkü:

There is truce in purple
and liboya for fustage, the cameo sweep
of all that is elegant and refined may be,
may be jeultonged, gelu-tron ~a rubbaboo bubbly
and given over to sincere conimbrun
or finnimbrun's fake, at, at,
tassels hang from a cardinal horse,
its red feathers to signify~
that blood shapes the air to fly.

There is Cleopatra in purple,
and unguent for fanged nipple fitchew,
a crude will of green, at, atone.

Caesar will come out laughing in polecat loincloth
in the first days of Spring to welcome the swimmers.

They come in boxes, asleep, and wrapped in fittle-fleet dreams
like efreet from lost yaylas, their skin like orange pollen, velvetine
through the microstriping, and their heads, ybatrid with downy basuco,
their arms like a cavernulous grumo until uncoiling
into perahera, vivda, or kirrymirryboff,

Lest Cloud Vulter, and Test Fenaim..

odd rabbit tit odd rat tit
briar come thingily through hide's heaven
and nose white dolly to odeum
the green string bobbin
bacon cape peanut pearl to market
the court gymnasium mineral
hold tight its thigh veranda hopping
with clenched Odissi mung to a charge
impregnated with odic force
perchance hodograph how do they
enter the problem space and where
for whence do they exit hodymoke by
gavel ears dredged to hog-frame
Count Porcinelmo's Friar by golly
Broom hickory made nama to rula


The Gumbino foamily mummified in spacesuits,
or was it Bunium flexuosum?

Rabbit Test.
Rat Test.

Empty concept
and blind impression:

Oh! The mind, mind has fountains..

Bachelard and Ricoeur meet one night at
Le Saint Cloud, at the Bar PMU...

Monday, June 27, 2011

Impeccable Stripes. Unpeckable Ponder. (Books Give No Gauge to Mind's Origin)

the softest hoof is called
the other, mother, or
that which circumscribes
the falling, but names
are the least important thing.

the softest hoof is also
the most bitter, but has
the most exquisite flower
which has a small sac which hangs down
housing twin glass vessels
which face each other
like book-ends or heads
which kiss each other
and hold a faux-perfume,
or a scent which disappears
too quickly to understand
its contour in entirety.

the other is vague, witch mother pollen
goat sac flower, it is the least
important thing, and its name is murder,
the murder of nothing by nothing.

its call is the most lovely of all the calls,
accidental orchid whistling butter flutes,
they dangle in the dandled ringlets
where whistling ovules seed the interior
of tomorrow's opening salvo:

prangue punked by
pluntum slarviolah


yabu its chiongschli
napa valley hash head
did Picasso paint a surfer child
whose ringlets held a single seahorse
whose mane
was as an olive garland?

White Tea Shirt Soot.
In Thyme. Ein Soph Test Mane.
Ein Writan on Mon Esphere.

Plutarch plutard.
Plitarn fi trifargu.


fond of the ambiguity of its surface
the classic extent to which it extends
in perpetuum ala mode a circumstance
dangling with plugs and sockets a ship
brightly plumed and progressing
into decay and other things less known
the great shouts around the missing well
to which well-wishing onlookers agape
at the great saga of its labor  


pain and birth the garland of its driving
shaft cupid to take up two-fingered gloves
in the maelstrom
harp harp harp

clown in a tux
drives all over a rain drop

reading Echenoz's Ravel to my husband
as we drive his cold grey wet still morning contrasted
by our hot windy dry and buffety stammering


Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro


Boléro Boléro BoléroBoléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro



Their hands link together in language.
Our hands link together in language.
The World is a Frankenstein economy
of shifting determination.

Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro

 4 mosche di velluto grigio

There is great disorder under heaven, the situation is excellent.

order a custom-made bathtub.

Saturday, June 25, 2011

Heavy Deep Brocade of Dreaming (Poodle Bull's Solemn Ole')

poodle bull
poodle bull

in high heeled china shop shoes
hollow spiral stair case heels

water in my camera
if a policeman takes down your name
eternal beach of dreams

words like seashells our heads are snared in

President Seashell of the Plenarshians.

Poodle bull
I have nicoise salad and watch the matador paint your hooves.
I watch you lick his bottom.

I watch the strange golden children with hammers
attend the gargantuan foetus
whose sky blue blood feeds a fountain
which looks like a cloud

sky blue steaks
on a bbq of neon louvres

sky blue poodle bull
your saddle of swarming butterflies
houses no buttocks
but is more like
a Matador's jacket
a pelisse of palissy ware
a bunchkin of medusa grape lanterns

Friday, June 24, 2011

That Band In the Swamp [Gold-dust Mascara]

the golden frog ascends
in bliss
into the white hot sun
of love

dot com

the golden frog ascends
as a feathered mummy hand
to become a leaf in the solar tree

singing snails
go down on me
singing snails
go down on me

Saint Bernard Rum in the Snow
Lavender Nipple Priest
White Yeti Centipede Beast
watching it grow

the singers
have beards of golden frogs
between their legs

Go down on me
white hot Saint Bernard Snail Beast Singing

bliss is an ivory spiral
bigger than the sun
watch the rum pour from my britches
there's a frog-snail on my tongue

hangman's erection
inside the womb
of the golden frog sun
Go down on me
Saint Bernard
of the little statues

Bliss carries a disease of joy
everywhere it goes
and on wide barques of glass
we know that
soft golden frogs shall be our lounges
and sheets of iron constantly flying overhead
shall soak up
the devious rays

how buck-toothed the universe?
how saw-toothed the wave?

little white barrel of rum
labeled bliss or sun
or hangman or sleep

we slosh out in sky blue body suits
through golden mud to greet

Uriah Heap.

{{{{{"Logique du Makara"}}}}}

Thursday, June 23, 2011

Recent Studio Hijinx (All Sirius Disinclusion Prevented by Abolition)

An Homage to Tanguy (A Quote)

A Meditation upon Lautreamont (as the Fitness of Unfitness)


Cragmont touloure, its touloure
touloure on, tellurion, Tel Uriah
down in Ukiah, that Jim Jones
loved a negress in Austin-Tea-Ex.

I have an umbrella.

Cragmont Touloure, it velour
amoour is suppenly Hungarian.

Hungarian names.
Hungarian hairstyles.
Hungary for Macaroni,
news of the position most
widely held, George Quasha
stacks rocks in a white box.
Here's Nero in all his glory:

I love you Beetle Bailey.
I love you Hierarchical Clustering Disorder.
Eating Des Worder.
Lanny Quarles' Notes on "Farce"
with generous supplementarianism
by Non Esse Caelo Demissos, or
Jove in a Donkey's foot or
in the Ancient City by Fustel de Coulanges
and by that we reference the Plebeians
rejecting the aristocratic religion, the Plebeians
thus becoming an Aristocracy of Lowness.

It is only to the
of memiacity that we bear tribute

OUR ROUX-LEGION being subject more to
RUSE than RULING and much to

drool and mewling.

I've seen a wombat
like a stomach with fangs and wings
launching "rude thangs"
at nobody.

Usually we "hole up"
far from the madding crowd
and Hobbes' 'violent men'..

We know that history is silly string
but don't want to be killed for preaching it,
though we preach it here.

Le Bob

Le Sub Genie


Notes On "Camp"

Notes On "Camp"

by Susan Sontag

Published in 1964.

Bomb of Logos

Poem of Holos

Cholos, Xolotl,

R. Mutt, Mutter,



Belting, Hans. 2005. Image, medium, body: a new approach to iconology. Critical Inquiry 31(2):302-319.

Knappett, Carl. 2006. Beyond skin: layering and networking in art and archaeology. Cambridge Archaeological Journal 16(2):239-51.

Mitchell, W. J. Thomas. 1996. What Do Pictures Really Want? October 77:71-82.

Pinney, Christopher. 2001. Piercing the skin of the idol. In Beyond Aesthetics: Art and the Technologies of Enchantment, edited by Christopher Pinney and Nicholas Thomas, pp. 157-180. Berg.

Thomas, Nicholas. 2001. Introduction. In Beyond Aesthetics: Art and the Technologies of Enchantment, edited by Christopher Pinney and Nicholas Thomas, pp. 1-12. Berg.

Miller, Daniel. 2005. Materiality: an introduction. In Materiality, edited by Daniel Miller, pp. 1-50. Duke University Press.

Keane, Webb. 2005. Signs are not the garb of meaning: on the social analysis of material things. In Materiality, edited by Daniel Miller, pp. 182-205. Duke University Press.

Engelke, Matthew. 2005. Sticky subjects and sticky objects: the substance of African Christian healing. In Materiality, edited by Daniel Miller, pp. 118-139. Duke University Press.

Pinney, Chris. 2005. Things happen. In Materiality, edited by Daniel Miller.

Ingold, Tim. 2007. Materials against materiality. Archaeological Dialogues 14:1-16.

Tilley, Christopher. 2007. Materiality in materials. Archaeological Dialogues 14:16-20.

Knappett, Carl. 2007. Materials with materiality? Archaeological Dialogues 14:20-23.

Miller, Daniel. 2007. Stone age or plastic age? Archaeological Dialogues 14:23-27.

Nilsson, Björn. 2007. An archaeology of material stories. Archaeological Dialogues 14:27-30.

Ingold, Tim. 2007. Writing texts, reading materials. A response to my critics. Archaeological Dialogues 14:31-38.

Ingold, Tim. 2000. Tools, minds and machines: an excursion in the philosophy of technology. In The Perception of the Environment: Essays in Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill, pp. 294-311. Routledge, London.

Ingold, Tim. 2000. On weaving a basket. In The Perception of the Environment: Essays in Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill, pp. 339-348. Routledge, London.

Ingold, Tim. 2000. Of string bags and birds’ nests. In The Perception of the Environment: Essays in Livelihood, Dwelling and Skill, pp. 349-361. Routledge, London.

Latour, Bruno. 2000. The Berlin key or how to do words with things. In Matter, Materiality and Modern Culture, edited by Paul Graves-Brown, pp. 10-21. Routledge, New York.

Bennett, Jane. 2005. The agency of assemblages and the North American blackout. Public Culture 17(3):445-65.

Bennett, Jane. 2004. The force of things: steps toward an ecology of matter. Political Theory 32(3):347-372.

Latour, Bruno. 1999. Chapter 6: A Collective of Humans and Nonhumans. In Pandora’s Hope: Essays on the Reality of Science Studies, pp. 174-215. Harvard University Press, Cambridge.

Oppenheim, Robert. 2007. Actor-network theory and anthropology after science, technology and society. Anthropological Theory 7(4):471-493.

Heidegger, Martin. 2001. The thing. In Poetry, Language, and Thought, pp. 165-182. Harper Collins, New York. -

Kharkhordin, Oleg. 2005. Things as Res publicae. In Making Things Public. Atmospheres of Democracy, edited by Bruno Latour and Peter Weibel, pp. 280-289. The MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Latour, Bruno. 2004. Why has critique run out of steam? From matters of fact to matters of concern. Critical Inquiry 30(2).

Rorty, Richard. 2005: Heidegger and the atomic bomb. In Making Things Public. Atmospheres of Democracy, edited by Bruno Latour and Peter Weibel, pp. 274-275. The MIT Press, Cambridge, Massachusetts.

Harman, Graham. 2005. Chapters 1-7. Guerrilla Metaphysics, pp. 1-99. Open Court, Chicago.

A Child's History of Rome.

Alias Aspic Astro / What Refuge The Scoundrel?

Limb rogued olio, thou art
a historie of a yong childe in Rome
called Papirius whose
continuance, acts, and undue
prominence would khubber
the buku, three cyaths of water
to break the inward Imposthumes.
I remember Rasay, coarse table
all achildrenned and goodly,
Captain Cocke's business of hemp,
thou art a historie of a yong childe
in Rome, Will Hewer hiding in the cellar
waltzing lady rats through purple flowing
holes, surely the Soule hath the reliqu'd
Impressa's of divine virtue, the inordinate
longitude of the organ may be a meanes
to improflicate the seed, in rust lies
the oval head:

I see glass leaves
through a cylinder of water
[look through water]
those leaves shaped like cellos
though they be harmonicas

Eflustrans, or

beaked windows
to look out upon
the rushing bay

and rays
to bracket the thing
in fierce and primal

ars unum via una

earth itself an apothegm

Wednesday, June 22, 2011

Paolo Chiasera

Paolo Chiasera

Truculent Dairy Moth

black mushroom scarecrow
ideogram of broken bottles
hover and reassemble
into misery-chord-confusion
history of fiat motorcars
a german soldier discovers
a ringworm in a singing round

too fast
phizz fissile

I bring the mass
out from the cave
and I deposit its
mass in a mass grave
but is a lump
ever a graven image?


ptah the lump,
and the lumpen mass remain,
beyond transfiguration
into ecstatic form
into symphophantinic musculatour

rumply hat
dave with a biscuit in a car
and this totally bizarre form of ruminations

as cow stomach
and stomach as heart
to pump the blood
lots of clothes on tv
and everybody knows

mandarin robots gingerly snip
the ribbons of fair faite fouly
you sir
are in a conspiracy

a teeming packed with teeming
a doubled teaming

mulish ginger
your faun root delving
to deep gemstone blood
your high peak hat of geode
to release the sparkling meat foam

gorgon snake spray nozzles
you plug the head in a pipe and stroke it in

cleaning out the sizing
so we can begin
to fabricate
more fiberglass

and glands of fibbing

Carom For Sad Cartel House

their fleece pulled to flange in a tree stall
high over golden salamander heads and broken
into star shaped breads to even the eel mortars

brackish lyre fetish bing crosby hologram
come mysteriously from old garage
on toes like floured lithops
in panty hose stuffed with
bill cosby heads


gear ratio unknown and aztec village dwarf
dear skin stamps on letters of tall gilt salmonid
these cone ladders of antlers reaching up to
harems of interwinking yaroow and quardeela

patio door like spider head
with rotating monocles
on bisecting axles

5 nude girls in a hogshead with the letter R
and a hovering luminous hand of water
get thee behind me hetman of dread lox
your armadillo boots sit muddy in the shower

go out glassy not classy
cellophane flag bar we courted
Bernie Madoff replacing the California bear
to a laundress of watercress in a medieval village

cropping pictures of picturesque crops
hard purple indian corn Orville and Wilbur
Rickenbacher red and bare
like Republican Krishna Romulan rebuses

white hair helmet

my cat is now blind
and the blind lore of flying saucers
does not comfort
Red Baron Orville Rikkenbacher
whose propeller of elephant trunks

makes a sound like wet socks
slapping on an ass-like rock
Dhobi Gillis wide-mouthed
piano bull

dried spice from a hose
to decorate the poop deck
with a crass and alien fungus
smelling your loft born fingerlings
through shamrock shaped bubble net masks

sad she goes silent into darkness
and I do not know why she goes
in blindness she seeks the blind

Tuesday, June 21, 2011

Deep Penetration of the Random

بينما (law of randomness)

بينما أنا أمشي إذ سمعت صوتا
As I was walking, I suddenly heard a voice

سمعت صوتا وأنا أمشي
I heard a voice while I was walking

A sentence with بينما has a condition-and-consequence sense to it.

As I was rushing headlong into chaos, I ssshouldenly head its voist!

[a. OF. randon (rendon, etc.), f. randir to run fast, gallop. The change of final -n to -m is independent of the very rare OF. form random: cf. ransom.] 
   A. n.  I.  †1.  a. Impetuosity, great speed, force, or violence (in riding, running, striking, etc.); chiefly in phr. with (or in) great randon (= OF. de or a grant randon). Also, with a, an impetuous rush, a rapid headlong course; chiefly in phr. in (on, or with) a randon (= OF. en un randon); hence Sc. a straight course, direct line. Obs. 
   In common use from c1300 to the early part of the 16th c.
   c1305 Land Cokayne 132 in E.E.P. (1862) 159 Þe monkes liŠtiþ noŠt adun. Ac furre fleeþ in o randun.  1375 Barbour Bruce v. 632 He+Raucht him sic rout in randoun richt.  c1450 Merlin vii. 118 Than thei+ronnen a-gein hym with as grete raundon as their horse myght hem bere.  c1477 Caxton Jason 57 The ship+hurtlyd again the ground in suche a random and force that hit was all to broken.  1513 Douglas Æneis i. vi. 149 Behald tuelf swannis in randoun glaid and fair [L. ordine longo].  1523 Ld. Berners Froiss. I. clvii. 191 The frenchmen+came on them with great randon, their speares in their restes.  1594 2nd Rep. Dr. Faustus in Thoms Prose Rom. (1858) III. 396 Two great waves+meeting together by long randome.  1600 Holland Livy vii. xxiv. 265 The barbarous people+fled in this randon beyond their tents.  1611 Speed Hist. Gt. Brit. ix. xx. (1632) 964 The Kings vantgard+giuing in among them with full randon, slew first such Captaines as resisted.  1889 ‘Mark Twain’ Conn. Yankee xv. 180 Two knights came together with great random. 

Randon Violence as Pleonam(sic) Phrase?

1594 2nd Rep. Dr. Faustus in Thoms Prose Rom. (1858) III. 396 Two great waves+meeting together by long randome. 

Running under the sky blue dome, a hurtling, a physical violence, valence



[a. L. volent-, volens, pres. pple. of velle to will, wish, desire.] 
   A. adj. Exercising, or capable of exercising, will or choice in respect of one's conduct or course of action.
   1654 Vilvain Theol. Treat. ii. 47 They say the appetit confined to good is volent, and therefore free.  1686 [see volency].   1701 Norris Ideal World i. vi. 358 Nor do they [sc. eternal truths] depend upon the mind of God as decretory or volent,+but only+as intelligible or exhibitive.  1849 J. Wilson in Blackw. Mag. LXVI. 388, I leave the body to moulder, and I go sentient, volent, intelligent, whithersoever I am called. 

†B. n. One who freely chooses or determines the course of action which he follows. Obs. rare.
   1768 Tucker Lt. Nat. (1834) I. 552 Upon this supposition man is a free agent, and a free volent. [See also volency.] 

"Randon Volency"

Ran Don Valencia onward to ward the Anaesthesis
in his how.




Ramdom folds in the Earth of Emmanency (E=mc)

1. a. The surface of the earth; the ground.  b. Dry land; the earth, as the dwelling-place of man. in, on, upon fold: on the earth; often as a mere expletive.

Here to go. come. Imshi. Anaesthetic. Random.


Sometimes it takes awhile for my own word machinery to catch up with the image stream I receive, and by that I mean often an image is slightly precognitive in unpredictable ways. Recently, I saw, or had the idea to paint an elaborate stage scene, a scene painted from the view of the audience, and one in which the actors were made to look small amid the machinery of the theatre architecture. Moreover, the image was from a very specific angle, far left, so that the jut of the stage out beyond the proscenium would be part of the subject.

But it is the relation of prose to proscenium to process that yokes my attention this morning, and the fact that there is a deep message or revealing that occurs when considering the notion of framing as a structural 'set-up'
that falls into the back-ground, and must fall into the background if the supposed action is to occur. The proscenium is a silent set of presuppositions which the spectator is forced to consume like a weird gangly apparatus, a dental apparat awkwardly erected in some uncomfortable section of the skull, and the action of any given event on stage, both the surgery and the anaesthesia, and that curious turn itself, the notion of

In the OED it gives 10 separate senses of an- the prefix, and many of them contain contradictory senses within the same sense conjoined by an abstraction focused on some version of formal directionality,
for instance in an-1, the OED gives against, towards, in return for

against aesthesis
towards aesthesis
in return for aesthesis

All of this begins to smack of a collapsing (clap-sing) into absolute semiosis, and therefore for any sensible action to be performed this machinery of framing must be present though its monumental provisionality is everywhere present. In monumentality (monomentality?) isn't there a presence of violence?

Is prose more violent than poesis? Is the framing out of the narrative proscenium different?
I would say not. There is no difference in prose and poesy in the sense that they both pose
as actors on a stage where the copula is the proscenium or framing mechanism.

An-3's sense is given as one, making death, or perhaps unconsciousness (unfeelingness) the ultimate paradigm for singularity.

Anaesthesis, One Aesthesis

On Is-Thesis

that Is-thesis being the syntaxial plane of Immanence

$ wave-particle duality

E=mc squared becoming paradoxically
the common arabic command to children


move on!
come here!

all contradictions reside within the continuum of syntaxial movement

Socrates and bound statues, Contrapposto and the I Ching

the still lotus, an infinite changing

The jellybean
like a brain composed of a hundred billion cobras
all readying to strike
and that strike
a single drop of milk

how thin to veil


Sunday, June 19, 2011

Gorgum Fully, The Urgent Still Verse Enfill

peaked rose and
bright grogrum
art as fretting

peaked rose
now close up
to its dew
and explode
the petals into view

rum silk
and mud
and freckles
of an orange color

and the black head thinking
thinking still
its inner spume
an argent room
whose form itself
remain a shimmering

and space
or blossom
clean silver
all consumed

peaked rose
or argent spume
in any clothes
or room

must stylus stalk
the prick of instance
senting sergeant

with azure horns
with azure horns

serene black lion

fed on argent

or transparent horns
the art consume
peaked rose
its dew a venom of gold

in view

the cat has its own red,
and modernist chair, and in the
intervening kosmon, parents fed,
their pet dog. the imaginary
or foetal feudal casings,
whole shrimp cast up
by the ogre
like blue thumbs of flint
both mania and whatever dugs
they pill the minds with
walls their young make a grotto with
and south Lamar

in the 1920's he'd ride his own horse
down to Barton Springs to swim,
and we, the inheritors
of a vast hot wind

we moved swiftly through that plain
joints and jetties and damnit
mother script congress

they stand up and ride surf boards in the river
like gondolas
long pole water walking stick
and the heat is unbearable
lost neanderthal radio
dorsal umbilical train
at work in the bodies of a simple monarchy of flies
and sandwiches

the slime

at the feet of its seven stars
white flashes if long degraded
staunch heron
the paragraph knuckles
of green scrub land
the grey and orphan file

file no name in java
for a blacksmith
we look and marvel
slow and touching
the chemistry
its head flavor standard

there the doubled snake skin hangs
among the charged yolk
of cast-off junk and furnitures

fury over gone in glow
cold waters we sneak in
eyes slitted between the rampant
hanging bodies

we dip
and roast
and admire the lucre
of the hushing oak

swag knob of a land
for cheery
its dash on

Thursday, June 16, 2011

Consul Veneto Sealing Up His Fondego

Trace amounts of care
infinite yards
and gardens

safety industrial wearable
too fond to care
on classical dentistry's
dianetic sin cyrene

abashed all molarity
corrupt to crash its party
thomas hardy
garment only meant
sign ceremonial

final nectarine
final curse:

Centurion, how for did you
ever fail to follow
this gelded coenosarc?

How forever did you glean
the humming of its universal
nectopod, nectar, to chastise
the ribald and the meek, how
absurd was that Anabupkissed Aurifaber,
who understanding this text


stirreth up the people
to carry themselves childishly,
as buprestidan fulmaria..

Rubbing Tyranny's Other



we why
in puzzle box map

totally centered
for heavy

accidentally removes head
body falls away
into dancing smoke

the native drums pick up
the camera accelerates

the purple ice cave
opens out into throbbing jungle

wooden exoskeletons
with window paper
hover through magnificent
indigo flower

dog of sap towering
swarm bull

green cone
green cone berry

I Took The Pistol From Its Periwinkle Akapagroove.

softly the mist
is strangling my head
and softly the brick
is crushing

courting throbs
of quickening questions

head shrunk now
sound more heavy with sand
hot testicle breath
combs solvent cicero
a needle wasp's
fortuna olmudande'

and sits up in bed
worn tiger ivory paper
its wadded silk domain
unrustling insect chrome
to the washerwoman's sweat scented
back slung guitara

let it roam
dark incandescent ovals
asleep in Poseidon's brow
long sleek ship like eye brow
cutting spider bird letters rising before
their smoke cloned other

hush after a beating

tender leaf

walm clungdstpioll
while I am softer clay
with flowers

Faun Du Lac (Iron Snowflake Wounding)

schitzophrenia sucks
your nipple to a frog's ear
teardrop tympanum
clitellum earth word sock
we exchange pariah gate folding techniques

look around
inside the garage
for answers
to mythology

a painting
of day-glow eskimo
somehow the walrus head facing you
gives upright tusks for steering wheel

bunny buddha tusk
theory of the myth of the pumpkin scratcher
connecticut gets mentioned twice accidentally

Emmanuel Frémiet
Gorilla Carrying off a Woman

The larger the mush stash
the more delicate
the chelicerae oil lamp
hovering bobbily

mini loop flame frame mandala ala scop-cheer


Wednesday, June 15, 2011


miami reptile dealer
big boob cookie jar
with puffy plushy nipple lid
soylent green for jeep ride
more of your gross
unending features

this dead parrot
i nailed to your head
is singing
'if I kill you again'
it's a big latin reptile dance

coffee cup
has a face at the bottom
more of your gross
unending features
surah hogon myrrha mora

give me a thousand dollars
lovely jeweled beetle
in your camera lens

looks like a tiled cigar
moroccan indian corn

Printer Sounds

the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girls
the maniac girlsthe maniac girls
the maniac girlsthe maniac girls

the maniac pearlsthe maniac pearls
the maniac pearlsthe maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls
the maniac pearls



the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls
the grainy unfurls


the grainy ass birds
the grainy ass birds
the grainy ass birds
the grainy ass birds
the grainy ass birds

the grainy ass


Hing hong


Tuesday, June 14, 2011

They Call ME The Midnight Moses!

By the Sensational Alex Harvey Band voted fifth greatest Scottish band of all time!

I Cannot Seek You In More Batter Than Baal

tiki tiki yum yum
tiki tiki yum yum

firehydrant buoys
firehydrant buoys

fonzie action figure gorilla food
you can smell the hot dog launchers
from high in the Hudson River Valley

fall colored hotdogs
deep green hot dogs
wild tickler fantasy hotdogs
moving the speed of sound
just above the water's surface
toward the birthday cake of Narvalone
Charles Nelson Reilly as a military minded bugaboo

A Martian robot raises the lace panty flag
at a lifeless menhir
left by whatever means necessary
for telescopic psyllocyberds

leg of a dark nerd
hooked up to a cell phone
making ones and zeroes
l or L

His head opened up like an alien egg pod
pop goes the spider weasel!
laying out high-speed anal string cheese is a signal
especially to a milk cow in a moomoo

look over here, it's the karmic version of wheel of fortune
pat trungpa sajak dresses like a yeti
call him hairy tomato hotrod
we can read the wheel

we can't feel the sanskrit branding iron
we're too damn high on sky blue cockroach on ice cream jogging track

toothpaste to block the nostrils
eyeballs to plug the canon

silver mucous in a spray can
gets me wedded every time
to elongated koala pinata
making banana knife noises

his helicopter is really a hooka
for koala, lace apnea, desert
or recordings made on foil

the birth canal is dark green
and out come the naked platypus zeppelins
with plucked chicken chassis

those flippers
are for real

Many zenith to borrow or bother
in the great deep beard of prehensile
pinata noses

Day Job Orchestra Refrains

said hand to cuff congee
and neck to collar congelare
O Frisket of gingerbread bathroom
O Frisket
O Frisket
pink honey-combed handcuffs kiss your slippers
kiss your slippers more gently than apple juice couplets
and when surfing, or fisting apple juice cutlets
become aware of Congemination
or Epizeuxis..
Todd: Zoinxis?

Coinage coexists.
Breek friable pantaloon liner's heavy licorice battle phase disoder.
I broke a fish into gleaming green toenail head-shield antenna.
How many times could I do that before you count to thirty?
One long finger reaches the moon in a baroque banana with Bowser of Shahnahnah.
Iraq. Iran.
Play Pool.

Give daughters riding ivory naked on camera.
That's what I like. Thanks you you, squirrels need no livers
to hold massive coinage.

Let's sleep in brisket coves with red booby pirates and mystery jambox brands of the 80's.
Camp out with leaky congelations.

You could see River Phoenix on Rodeo Drive like Stalin in Moscow,
Only his sky blue penis had a peacock tail of corncob pipes peeping in on
Alice Cooper the Goon.

That's fried haddock in a hillbunny's coterie squash. It's stuffed in there.
Mind my panty waste gumbo?
Should even frills come to disoder without its several bleeking missin's.

I bin missin.

We obtained its solid by congelation.
Heavy lice get folded into the batter.
I have shoes made from parts of the dead reef cutters.
You can save pants in a jar,
with butter from old cans.

I've started to stir the pot,
and now an opossum is milking gravy nipples outward to space.
Letter are hamstrung vehicles for whatever, yahhk.

Let them think about it in their navel car, while carrion softens to jello.
I can sing opera through a woody horn any day.

Heave a dark nipple frisbee into his Whitehouse Replica
floating down the Mississippi. Tom Thumb Sawyer Meets With Rat Fink
for a blowhole fucking all toward Mecca with Electronics.

Give it rayon!
My teeth have rayon pantyhose.
It's a prophylactic angel, thin sugary lips
take on the nearly non-existent penis.
That's how Las Vegas looks when you're dead.
A cuttle fish variety show. Let's get into bed with cream corn and seals.

I have a big green toe instead of a cock,
and you have one instead of a head
and nipples. We're Mexico for every average
congelation of goats, frogs and uncanny freedom fighter.

Put your skin back on, little Tony.
Said B. Googe to Isobelle Gowdy:

Hare's Bach Husband loooooks upon Bruel's praxis, urrfgul,
We cheat at cheese checkers with Radar on MASH.

Hot Lips
bang my suture.

Did you sleep in chocolate and Tomatoes?
I like a movie where they mix blood powders into applejuice.

Whorf's Hypothesis shows
That Snow White Played by Darwin
gets banged by many clones of Witch-Dwarf

while hare slowly roasts.
You need iron tits to climb the matterhorn.
Big Deal.

Cotton Shirts end up loosely gathering horses.

Apple Juice.

Monday, June 13, 2011

Silly Boring Idols.

tiger eggs:

Henri Rousseau
patting the bird's head
from a comfort
beyond the trowel.

Foot cream, anyone?
For those dry, peeling Patchens?

Kafka already had syntaxis in mind
when he gave the parable of the roach,
but this does not mean we look any different,
or feel any different. Most of Kafka is about the
role played by aconceptuality in a world devised
by words.

Aconceptuality also plays a major role
in Carlos Castaneda's philosophy in the character
of the nagual. The tonal is the space opened up to us
with words. The nagual is the actual world.

This is the world of the magician, not the priest,
and not the politician, not the feminist, the man, and not the nazi,
not the friend, or foe, or any designation known.

Syntaxis misinforms us about the boundless disorder
of words. That each act runs on to infinity.
That in the great shell game, it is the luminous orb
itself which always wins, time knowing no poison.

Look in the mirror.
Here is the altar of the great ray.

Exquisite Garden The Boss Caress.

a hointy-cointy gethirndrop
made holosolography upon the
phoonwashed eminent

pillar perjure these omassitous
fais bundle
thus forcibly created

the butt of the baleful shry
kins neither the horse
nor the asse
but the neyard

whose fiyul leases bort
wherein the lotters
bild up the buld vorten
for boscorific would

Saturday, June 11, 2011

Choat Make Goat Pearl Boon.

high speed silver pearls
fort frictionlessly from its
transparent umbilical,
its shadow across
the deeply lined faces
of the stone silent
carved onlookers
whose heavy bases
move according to 
magnetic grin.

the piranha is lame.
see how it lists on its side,
no ice to column the wound
in the founding of its 
tabled windows, and 
when we look down
through vinyarded atriums,
what casque buboes rise
to the occasion are both
instrument and vehicle.

the pearl piranha prāṇa
is loosely flowing, and devoutly
floating, blue eggs rumba round
the transparent umbilical hat b-band,
makedly choating.

Le Rayon vert

I am the solstice in harmony with space
whose laurel ladders clever a ribcage room
through a secret wonder and its doom;
my face is already a shroud of touring.

A green ray angles across
the beating hearts
above the plaze, the deft confusion
of summer is never replaced
by the moon's silent pace;
all energy towers above us.

Friday, June 10, 2011

BBC News - James Beattie work found in Sir Walter Scott's library

BBC News - James Beattie work found in Sir Walter Scott's library

Today's Studio Shot

Where Did the Rhino Go?

Hail the sky blue Rhino! Hail!

Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!
Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!
Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail! Hail!

Wandering Jew, Ulysses, Ishmael, Ahab, Bohemeth,
Ancient Mariner, and Don Quixote, Melmoth
but not a witch in the bunch?

From the navel of all things, a witch sets them running,
and they chooch and chooch until the moochings done,

and there beside moss dappled ruins is the thing hid,
the omphalos bucket boiling, and then being skimmed,
piles of weird skins sit smoking
in the nameless night meadow.

Gorgeous, the beast exeults, quivering, all asweat,
tingling, erocere.

tiny horns of green fire project out like erect nipples from the pupils
of the eyes, the actual nipples below

deeply transformed
into hyperjelly

their texture like a dimension to itself
wet, pliable, transfixing

all thought
the beatitude
of the beaming waters

the puncta
of suck:


Thursday, June 9, 2011

Les Articles indéfinis

They harbor pearls,
orange sea snails, striped
sea snakes moving through
oozing puddles of luminous oil,

In the wind, they stand up idols,
kinetic forms whose names are the
sounds produced by harnessing,
and they harbor no malice to living things,
but produce music to delight
any living being.

What to be sought?
What to be garnered?
Is there traffic under heavy gems,
nudes catapulting in bolts of opalescent


My green eep, a leaf between the lips,
the rrrrnnnnn misu of the frustrate.

planet to warl,
good canta lope
them either heether

Tuesday, June 7, 2011

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