Monday, April 7, 2014

For Talleyrand Enters The Poor and Dirty Old Theater, The Holarch as Hobbes Leviathon

“There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.” 
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Hobbit



sac or trap
suspended
before the face which is not
a face
the holarch up against the form
the form
as holarch born
a speech which is spoken
by a speech


one way to speak
is declaration
lies in the silence
the salience of action
the hand
as if named
by an informing star
crowns the poem
with radiating arcs
a pun
upon
a poun


aporia's great will
seeks entrainment's
swaptioning to desire
the holarch opens the surface
the surface
evades the holarch


in olden times
an adventurer class
led the rabble
but the strange stink
of unity
the coat that tied itself in knots
and the threads
which seemed to sex
a necessary problem
flesh is music
and all nudity
remains
the form
of the holarch
delirium's punishment
for entertainment
in sleep the builder builds
in building the sleeper sleeps


It says here
you
had a low opinion of my sword
and yet
and yet
today you have entered the hologram of my room
an eager angle
an anxious manifold
an outside
for the inside
to push out
and in?

and so I ask you:
Is the "will"
of the photon
its very structure?


there is a snake plainly visible
between the twin pillars
of difference
and one of the twin pillars
holds the world
in a mutant hand
the earth
or Hercules


I waited a long time
for Doctor Freud to admit me,
but then to my surprise
I spied a kiwi bird
pulling a long grey string
along the windowsill


There are ways of talking
about the things in the air
and there are things in the air
which are talkings- on
goodbye laboratory!
goodbye cock and grunt!
the diamond
is dyed like wool
and the louche seeker
hails a shitty feratte...


in my homeland
i lived in a larger man
a larger woman
a larger thing
an unknown being who whispered
nothing at all
i could understand
in the flat desperation of the page
my small form 
was admitted


my problem has always been
in shifts of clusters
when i shift
the cluther changres
when i adjusth the clutter
i shit
and phaneronoemikon
like the holarch it names
moves further inward
further
out in reach


yes!
perhaps we will try it!
take the small bronze statuette for your head
herr frau, perhaps
it will be your "helper"..


the momentum
of its orange window
within the stillness of blue leaves
imagine
our solar mind
its laurels
of instruments
architectural forms
the corona!

is shit on his list

or teeth!


but Herby, there are too many flaneurs out today,
let's reture homme
and return
to our cozy laboratory
i'll look at a parrot
while you infuse the biscuits..


the venus
still silent
and knowt one thought overall
and its red face never an embarassment
but a gathering of blood
of liquor
the sanguine plate forms
the poem of the poem
its form
loose
and undertow




it feels as if i haven't visited this place
in ten-thousand years
i changed my flesh
into electricity


i told a critic today he was stupid,
and just look at this lovely dinner she sent over,
if only confusion
were the penultimate currency
of progress..

ahanh..
schoon.


I know a woman
across town
who works in a Sanatorium..
She calls herself "Roget"..
there. I'm done.
I will simulate a bohemian present.


The sagging bones will dominate!
The liquid rind is sick scientists!


Papa, is it true
that Zeus as a white bull
had testicles which dangled
like bunches of grapes
from its jowls
and jawbones?


No longer miniature!
Reach for the soap!
Reach for the index
of the stripped skin!
FIEF ATTACK!

(i've left my shoes in the aquarium again)


my delirium provokes me,
and yet, i hum
i conclude my party face
and think of words like
donk, etu, delafloncy,
sequi, fuqua, veliridon,
etc
(a natwurlement)
'the doggy barqs the boat tree'
and a great head


the career without a structure
is like the line
awaiting an image.

these dreams happen
beneath
a table
of references.


you know he told me once what his obsession with cinema was.
oh yes? yes. he said that when he looked at public law
and abstracted from its matter, or empirical elements, that there
remained the figure of publicity. The possibility of this publicity, every 
legal tittle it implies. Without it there could be no justice, which can only
be thought of as before the eyes of men.


the action in the courtroom
or in the political arena
is a trial or contest
an agon
as in the greek stage plays


in which the parties litigant
are not definite individuals
but abstract persons


in the mask of plaintiff
and defendent
little ate
and big
eye


the mask is magic
character is not innate
a man's character is his demon
and his legs
are horns


in the deepest levels of the unconscious we find not fantasies
but telepathy
or cinema
the schitzophrenic truth
whose ruin
is always already
adualistic


as i take up the cigarette
so you
take me up
and i you
but this false frame
is also
but a way of speaking
above you
through you
between me


i have no mouth
but i must dream

coffee makes a bitter sea


my only thought
was of a void
composed of the infinite 
number of decisions
made by myself
and by my species
and other species
either known
or unknown
or yet to be born
or those
long past


what would you say to me
if i were a life


if the inspiration of all inscription
is reduced to the infallibility of inscription,
literally understood, then what is
unscription?


the punctum
of the mind


is the psyklopf's


alone


as a butterfly
my dreams are of this world


as a dream
my butterfly's world
advances
towards redemption
revolution
and does not move

the taoist jesus
is jewish