Monday, September 29, 2014

pitiful abstract arrest

Irraabbaaroon ponkulele kliss 

guess my hoardle will not substract

It's a perfect dance, when all the players are invited

Now remember, you must not leave the surface of the pond, or ocean.
Only within these huge bobboing corks of hollowed out pub school ponies
will your pontoon verses shoe the goose
let your paddle head rest
deep blankness cajoles fried music for frizz pets

Camper van Devo.
There is no way to make it laugh,
but you see the gravity string running both ways through the fog.
There must be some answer to that,
but its seems like putrid pate' under rancid butter
hangs behind its ears.

I see the emblem now headquarter.
It (or I) is a klompflex of puzzle shutters.
open and shift
close and flip
remove and read the table to a book
for a whole
peep song like

Are you comfortable
with matter as a degenerate form of energy?
That's a kind of quantum explanation of human moral fixation,
as if ideas were more entangled with reality, rather than
giving reality much credence.

I am disturbed by abstraction

with reference to my morning meal

I'd like to know and take the plot
to a higher plateau,
a mathematical plain,
where the drone of bliss
displays its dreams only in the dips
as if in bliss
dreams would only illustrate
the barest marquetry 

or maybe the subtle body
horns the fermionic body like a shadow
what words say
they say cornuto
as if in the face of words is a changeling
bent over under
a kind of stellar prism
which hides
an abstracting genital
of obedience
there is no more space for rays
and only races
the colour of respect

trapped in this Atlantean language emblem
the eyes in my jaws
break and clip
my sad and broken expectations
lisa robertson
is not much different than new mexico
for when you see the quipu
would strangle-cinema
the crisp fine waiter
whose bird finally masters itself
tralala to fill the table

blue linen napkins
and the balcony over the aquarium

sometimes treasures
sometimes pulls

slows down for the eddies

and picks up in the pickles

and the whole sour way it touches itself

that picture
which terms to the other picture
in dance
but nodes belong

there is a fiercely alterable
kind of praise in matter
and matter being so exquisite
renders itself
to praise
and against it
its stores praise

like a luminous tongue 
its stores praise
like a joke
for later telling

or gimme gimme gimme
(harmonia mundi)

I'm afraid he left his wicker pipe here
so now you must explain
why bonnets aren't like underwear
when flowers sing unimpeded
to an old baal

It's a ghastly fugue this flowing oboe
creme de metanymph memph menthet fenthet.
instruct innsbruck to abstrook the fenhook.

Piranesi's garage. It is wasn't flooded I'd live here myself.

In each room
I confound the transcendent torso.

and make way
for the large Hadron collider.

and with my buckets of earnest thread
I cantilever the nests
for their sane
and low key metallurgy

I ache for the scrim
which has none of its own

I ruminate and parse
while equally running away
from this thing
I wish not to be involved with

I trust enough to whistle

to address the stage
before I harangue the audience

Egg whites are transparent
until you beat them

tongue: pressure cooked
in may days in trains

and just before reaching the pinnacle

a silly debate

my daft pellicle to personality

there's a kind of teakettle
you could hang from your chin
to keep your jaundice and springy neck bone
from arching out of range

in my seepy deep clouds
of cemedians

no clause for where it fwacks good
and where it fwax meet
in its stingle pede
there the monument blossoms
how holy the murk astringent
when the tiniest engine comes to play
its luminous flute enacts by air
a dragonfly coral
dipped in firefly ink

glass masks
like boats
hover above the ocean
and press their vissage down
until you can see their faces in the foam

and carcass
to a body comb