Wednesday, April 17, 2013



 lale' a false onlyness, soneliness, lale's fall else, a leaf falls, only s
EECUMMINGS as Thailand
for no reason
(the balloon whistles)

look closely at the record of its interactions

brine bleak in soleful accord, the ket, a picture knife for ward

knotting origin to flow, knot star, knot fount, knot torrent,
negative finds, or founds its opposite

We can imagine of course, the private porphyry chambers which the Minotaur must surely have inhabited, his helpers who assuaged his affliction, his friends, and family, and those youths he helped remove from their superstitious parents to live new lives in the endless orchards
of the raging flesh.

A sun rises betwixt the horns of consecration
whose skull is the body
of the labyrinth
of writing.

It truly is not so paltry a thing, the substance of its courteously fearful maw
breaks off and hovers as smoke, or pollen, or light, or fear.
Lucretius noted an echo between smoke and dreams, 
and the sinuous limbs of all living things.
It is acceptable to at least marvel at the possibility,
the red hot brain yolk foetus toad's black cinnabar skeletongue.
Menu, or Meteor?
Crater or Krater?

Angelus Novus
Yet I
near to the Incan
where decimals hid their monster herm shaft dug into the periplum
rising on gas
in an infernon of flowers
its bones toward singing machines draped in slithering eagles
sparkling with copper mirror scales
these celestial gold leaf mummies
floating away
on infinitely long teathers
to the center of the galaxy
where as wheels of meditating sentences
they with utter the name of the final gap
or indiscretion 
its name:


A far better sense of its agency.
For a thousand years the worshipers
sought to bore inside
with mind or hand,
but could not.
They were already within its
Its majesty
was an ancient mirror
before their foot.

Contemporary leisure life encapsulates all of these basic accordances.

Its paradoxical grunt 
of transcendence is easy, 
every instrument is its own opposite
A grey velvet brain amoeba with a snow white tongue
which distracts the audience
from black manta leaves
passing beneath the cherry trees.

An intellect will remain at large, the conversation, its
black zeppelin, onyx egg, exhibited in 1926 
at the Brooklyn Museum 
before it was broken during transport 
and carefully repaired by Duchamp.
Logos is not itself, it is its

Hail Hydra!

All roads lead to Kosovo...

or to the ministry of Causes, aka

spring plums
forged in infinite darkness
and silence
(like lenses)

The mind itself
as Art,
with all its weaknesses
and strengths.
Money shaking hands with Monet
as nature.

The weird cleft at the bottom of the well of letters, how its descent
provides the upper thrust of so much sweetness
and subtlety and gladness
a thing like depth of field.

Zombies only mimic the reaction, but there are no zomibes,
vomides, or coroollaries.
Fling its mud-languished flall by a hiccuthe treep.

lucky lucevano to order 
its look for cupid 
had been skewered 
the entire icon 
in tact like an ether 
it breathed fell from
grey cloth scales
by you

First: John Donne divided by Alpo.
Then Pop-Harroldy times Cephalophore.
Line by Lion.
Thread by the red.
Can you find Lanny
in the haystack.
stir. stare.
Tyr writ tour.
It all came to a head.