Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Ballad of a Long-Haired Star (Signaculum)

blank stare as carnyx uncovered to washing (ablution)
and the meat in the night...

There is a curious echoic in some minutiae of D'arcy Thompson's _On Growth and Form_ with a title and subsequent phrase in Jack Kerouac, and when you think about it, there is in both writers a yearning to explicate invisible form, or rather to exercise and reveal an impetus within presented form. Compare Thompson's line,

On the contrary, in a little pinch of deep-sea mud or of some fossil 'radiolarian earth', we shall probably find scores, and it may even be hundreds, of different forms.

to that of Jack Kerouac's short story _October in the Railroad Earth_, which goes on like a memory sieve, picking through places and names and sounds, and the forms of sounds,

Sunday har har owlala morning / and need no mystic strength to measure the musculature in my rib rack / all dead bums forever dead / this was the clientele in the Public Hair Restaurant /

and there is also an echoic of what Kerouac's story represents, namely a kind of free-wheeling inspection of memory fossils, and by free-wheeling, I could easily mean their musicality and the echoic accompaniment, muscularity, ie mussicle, mussy, and, or, musey, by extension.

And it is also by extension, that I might come to compare the two phrases Radiolarian Earth, and Railroad Earth under the rubric of another comparison, namely that of ancient Greek marriage. In this case, since the coupling is rather rudimentary and direct, no great artifice or drawn out ceremonials, we might conceive of this marriage as a kruptos gamos, or secret marriage, ie, a marriage out of wedlock, rather than a proper gamos, which would have included an epithalamium, that loud chanting outside the marriage chamber to cover the sounds of penetration, though oddly enough, it has been shown, that these epithalamia were in fact stylized allusions of the hidden coitus itself.

Which brings me around to the sexuality of textual echoics, or homophonics, which I guess sums it up; Echoes are gay. Which in a funny sense is supported by things like the 1980's urban legend about an upcoming 'gay jesus movie' and the subsequent email petition by outraged Christians:

Fwd: Jesus 

I Can't belive it. There is a movie that is coming out in 2001 saying Jesus and his disciples were gay! There is already a play that went on for a while,but never stopped! Maybe we can all do something! 

Please send this to ALL of your friends to sign to stop the movie from coming out. Already certain areas in Europe have started to ban it from coming to their country and we can stop too! We just need a lot of signatures and you can help! Please do not delete this! Deleting it will show your lack of faith and a lack of respect for our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ who died for us! Please help! 


And then there is the curious and rather comical irronism we are presented with when we delve into the history of the female hymen itself, namely with the figure Soranus of Ephesus whose resolutely denied the existence of the hymenical membrane. No hymn to the hymen by Soranus!

And then there's that curious echo between epithalamium and epithelium, which in Greek means 'upon the nipple'.. So, in a sense, it may have have been perfectly logical for Soranus to dismiss the existence of nipple skin in the vaginal tract, even though his own name may have spoken differently.. (see Giulia Sissa)  

April and May in the Radiolarian Earth

As above, so below, 
the green nipple, 
and the emerald hymen;
let them be as one..

For when Soranus has fallen
a bum snow-flake dead
and down turned, the
sun's arras is revealed,
but what's behind?

Geber will gibber on,
about the hatred of Capitalism, 
about Liebman, the botanist,
finding blonde-haired Indians
speaking old-fashioned Danish.

He will gibber on,
tree branches reverberating
Sky shell head skull Fresh
Air. And then. Prophesy?
Echo: we are mental crash outside. Instructions

Autonomy. He will gibber, Geber
will gabble on describing Otto Muehl's
basement studio in Perinetgasse, Vienna
during the early Sixties, he will

and gibber about Materialaktionen 
and Artaud's assertions that 
he would not die, that he had refused death,
and did not believe in it. Geber gibbered
about this, and he gibbered more:

About Gauguin's refusal to cut his hair
during his journey to the Seychelles
aboard the steam boat Océanien,
and about a burlesque of the grandiose.

About Delacroix's painting of animals
that he did in Beffes, and discussed
with a friend in a letter, sanguine,
for in this mortal life, much more gloomy than serene,
filled with envy throughout,
We do not always converse with friends,
or take notice of the echoes
and nipple skin, or the reason
for the screw-like turning
of the tusk of the narwhal.

All of its foolish whole.
In poetry. Lives like the
exortus crinitae stellae
upon the ending
of Claudius, fuit una
moffa confufa
feu chaos confufum
ut fuperious...