Friday, April 21, 2017

"find an automatic description of the hinge"

 a floating signifier
 pretends to be an icepick
 lining up some brass socks
 like an axle
 the wagon is smashed flat
 but the winter wind
 the bandits
 and prying eyes
 are all held at bay
 on the other side

 the train
 while simultaneously entering
 and leaving the station
 in multiple places and times
 seems to hold the passengers at bay
 as a kind of private savior
 an area in the aria
 where quiet contemplation reigns
 there is a threaded railroad spike tho
 that keeps the private savior
 from flying off the tracks
 "of the sony walkman"

 jeremy bentham is stuffed
 like a snake staff into a pool cue sleeve
 and so the universal robots
 can't see him anymore
 (or her) and the worlds turn about it
 and it makes you wonder
 if the central bolt of the panopticon
 is the subject then why not just turn it around
 not caring what happens
 inertia wind or neglect made a sly ruin for bats
 and any utopian prison has no need
 for primitive hinges

 the hing-thing is literary
 the linear motor
 and charge clamp
 are redolent
 of mad nature
 gravity and gods

 the hing-thang admires the odd possibles
 of a sea shell window ajut
 of an inter-world
 which might have been

 the door ajar
 and pandora more
 olive and pink

 there is no snake in a sock
 wearing a felt cone hat
 and carrying a candle
 with its chin-hook-pharoah's
 beard-foot to visit

 the midnight livery-museum
 the empty costumes
 languoring in darkness
 liquoring in quiet
 'hanging out' in damocles'
 golden echo