Wednesday, February 26, 2014

The Word 'Monstre' Appears 11 times in the Collected Works of Chaucer.



the beatitudes of copying
also project
a thin black skeleton key tree shadow 
whose indexical phallynx
summons no simple irony
but a multitude 
for the gnarstyx'd pluromatongue
is a hordespace
and though we contemplate it lovingly
and lilt ourselves languidly in streams of soft petallings
the burning solar rose is hung in a black iron coppice
whose hacking litany of vortle
chuffs no only glad roundurance 


as Nachtschitzeus said
Be Fortful
and multiply the framings


and found a bliss, a bliss-surd of ceremonial doorways
down and back into the throes
of lost plazas
of mythical reading


a scrim before the hot machinery of love
to harvest the genius
of its radiant
and white hot stamen
fate's chthonic punetym
become all consumthing
yesmage
uniformlessly bewildering


the open sky
conceiling
engravelatours
leavened by graven
banderoles
whose masque
is the greening
single
pense bête


for though I walk
through the valley of antennae


I shall fear no telephone
and hair no diatribe


my Pan
and my snake
do confront me
and my scrybus fang
will haunt
the paper of the whordethicket
forever


my hard black ebony eyes
rolling freely
loosed from a punctual heading


and all things shall be brought together
a soft bodice
cupped in a black lightning
of wild cold magma
in song
an heroic pinprick
sanguid round 
a blind koine


O Knossos!


When frail Garamanteans
arrived in tunnels


your Minotaur has so declared:
all totality springs from supplementarity,
all grace confined


lo, my calembour
is a drawing,
a sucking at the fount
of your wound,
my displacement


perhaps
the 'one that stands by you'
is a camouflage
for empty shelves,
a poim of Stella
to the MERRKFEST
of apple vey


consider the statutes of the feel


do they not sleep as stones
in the bowels of buddha's foot


does not a cold nimbus of dreaming coinages
awaken all combination


to mutilate the dance


let mother heal
her token's 
garden
goiter

for the where the lamprey
candles


the hand must hold
a cup


whose haecceity
deus hex
wills adam
a descent in turns
to even
the plug
or the scrim
or the feel


4014, 4414, 4404, Rue Eggsilly


there is a weirdly homogenous substance, baby
there is a weirdly homogenous substance, sugar


None of my models can correct or guess!


In the long winter
my own stupefying nudity
has become your clothing,
now will you play
Handel's Sarabande
again, my dear,
and this time,
with a little more
'groovitas'


no sense
in chattering wrongly
when it takes away
no one's rights


The subject much loin to recognize
that his unconscious is his history,
a golden eleven-vater monster,
bugs bunny teeth


but Oedipedagogy
needs my
socratiser


and so ends the treatise


leaving each moment
in its own all deforming
and performative
punctum
the subject as the quill
of the objective
departure


the triple muse
as ascendant


as writ mine auctour called Lollius