Friday, June 28, 2013

Old King Thomas Cole and the Wandering June (Heat Wave Corollary)


inside of its serene and looming gelatinous head
I beheld a curious toy of candy
with wild and flowing mutton chops
and a pompadour of optical chimericality
reminiscent of a praying mantis
of 'striped fire'
and below this head-dress
I saw the hollering head
its one flat tooth angled outward
and the head Popeye like
but somehow Hungarian
but with a 'checkered bandito string mustache'
which somehow encoded the tale
of Thomas Cole's meeting with the portrait painter
known only as Stein, a wanderer, and germane
to the fit as a fiddle boy who give earth
the Hudson River School,
the American Grotesk.


No sense of other, no sense of self, Marsyas and Apollo both captured by the Alien-Han hybrids,
their infinite jester 'skinning the flute' Magyar style, and dressed in dyed buck, their helmets like soft suede crocodiles inlaid with snail glass.
The world tree in a jug
transformed
into a white, red-eared
hound.


"We must indeed rather be convinced by the effects of our own arguments, for we are the origin of all matter." -He came to me slowly proffering rewards for hard service in toil.


The Wit's brain is a rudder, the color of steering, that hierarchy castes no shadow vvagguely is the sign of its reticence, neatly ordering the braun by nearby echo to tassle, or taste, or for the house of Psybure, for the censor to waste, these common articles
of plain, as wrapped around a bell in bellicose and cozy pranciple.


ID before ID
and DION
before the fall, trace out the list of revolts,
trace out the list of quellings.
Red Rover,
Red Rover,
a quantum clover loaf toad.
"Big Bell Genes"


More numinous than Jesus, Strindberg in his youth learned to bellow
as Carpocrates' jarring maw, words both followers and awe:
"Are they going out, or coming in?"
Stringberg subtly issues the DELTA.


As Jesus I walked as a Scotsman, high collar
and rubber duster.
My cuffs are crusted in sugar and bugs,
and my mustache is sprinkled 
with Absinthe.


I adore this raitre, this spectre, this principle of growth
denatured by wild ululations from an unknown land
of towering runes and ladders.
-NOB
(Nous of Butterfly)


In oracular speech there is no desolation, for the oracle
identifies wholly and completely
with the singular body of matter,
and the indefinite formulas
of its progression, digestion,
pi-gestation,
gesturality.
pig.
I.


Negrow.


airborne.
serene.
pontification.


Gibburth.


coinage upon its confus-ed foam