Thursday, March 6, 2014

brutalist arcades, broneam1

Dear Fang

It was not that progressive punk had
moreover become some replicating expressionist
Flaktürmen of Tamms painted all over
with the machinery of Debuffet
but that Tam Lin could also be figured
as a lump of coal whose narrative life
given form by the Canterburyian Egg
should be heard as Assyrian demon heads
dredged up in the sound
and that two synthetic diamond rods
originate at the origin of the eyebrows
and sing on to eternity
as complaynt

Dear Fang
are you never raw?
and is your whole
the product (coal)
of fair taboo
and fecund amnesia?