Wednesday, January 20, 2010

Old Brown Gum



I think they put
viagrea
in the coffee
here at intel
cause

when the ever lording
gemini
looked us up
in the yellow pages

my journalism
was hard

muezzin cum
bandito hard

bang bang
ai chi
juana

iguana parasol
reminder:
your meeting
with psilocyber-
liveried
semiconductor
cum kafka
esquire
plot line
defects
is being

put out
"i need stubby"

I would like to write
a kafkaesque novel
about working
in semiconductor manufacturing
but since I can't write

I am merely trapped
in that novel

like

Satan in Hell
with a perfect
coffee boner

Going out on a Limb

I can definitely say that these two blog posts
are of a species of perfection which
"is really great and fantastic" (said in the Werner Herzog Voice)..

:)

Williams and Beauty
I should have something good to say, but just read it.
It's interesting. and illustrative of a kind of narrative
of sensibilities and their difference over time.

In my terrible and ridiculous conceit, I have decided Nada's
outfit actually echoes my own post here, but Nada I think now, is
confirming that Poetry is "Run by the Goddess" (sic-psyche, feminolatry etc.)


badass!

Check out that Nos!

Pasta Revival



jejeune energy is not true
the effervescing fizzy wig
of the living inktress
hizzes hon

black custard diamond
empeless
whazzutsinmere
be yepyep
thraytinious
diadem cities momentarily
connect via velvet
mirrored crow rope bridgelings

and

langue barter
swells

the third eye
of every lemur opens
while chick pea
sun sniffs up
its own overcoat

watch your overcoat
maholy nana caste in plexi
yeti-booths

yak buggery accident
reveals tibetan
intestine lama

lantern
now grown
into the stone

Something from Harry M.

life in a sock

via Barrett Watten

André Masson



Bison on the Brink of a Chasm, (1944)
Brush & ink on paper

Tuesday, January 19, 2010

The Lucky Barf

The lucky barf hid
in a shoe and whistled
at the sweet old
negroes who played pool
down at the bumper car
museum. It whistled
"In the sweet by and by"
and "Dixie" and "Summer's
Almost Gone" The lucky
barf would take a long
lunch break and walk down
among the rotting piers
kicking napkins and stuff
thinking of dented tin
and epaulets like bugs.
Licking the cheese off,
the lucky barf.

The American Turn Inward, Inbred, Ati Vam





"A Famous Prediction of Merlin"

transitive
set relations

the logic of neo-
post anonymity
with any part
or modern satiric
grotesque degrading
the hero downgrading
the opposites to
Stoicorum

Richard Gummere and
Helmut Kreuzer
the halting problem

big bitchy mind
Edgar Allen Poe
Nathaniel Hawthorne

the spy
who says
it's whole

elohim
honey bats
ascend through
the scuba city

under what, er,
brick jazz loftal
aberrynth:

A storm was coming, but the winds were still,
And in the wild woods of Brewceliande,
Before an oak, so hollow, huge and old
It looked a tower of ivied masonwork,
At Merlin's feet the wily Vivien lay.

sky hazel
vacuum
paste
planar

black sun echo
don quixote'
wearing sandpaper
beads

arms replace with
circular awe

electronic
maggot
shell
recordings

exhibition catalog pages. Original
position of fragments when found in
the library (Catalog photos: Adam
Rzepka)

Lanny @ Intel,
Jeremiah among the Sadducees

P.109
Casino Royale

Franche-Comte'
I have a small gyroscope
in my Wii
that draws water up
into my hat

ocarina
stomach
virgin

Monday, January 18, 2010

The Jukes of Hazard

He was supposed the have the
brain of Doctor Bernstein,
an owl is playing cards,
and the bathers

through the window
like abstract wings
of chard

delicacies abound
for did you have a life
to tell

Grub street
is weirder now

Dune God Worm
chaste rattles
of pornography

if i get nothing
inside the single
shaman

crippled bird
from which tortured
grasshopper cities
emerge

beak-seed detaching
tongue asking simple onces

why is everything
a personality test

memory
debauch
debacle

tabernacle
tavern ankle

you chuckle
off the lie
and i chuckle
stripes and all

i don't get the joke
old cathedrals

mules of crimson beetles
which stretch as thin as rainbows

and go back
to proud
and cinematic
grounds

gentle antiques
lowering heads

rosebud
deals
from light
speed
sled

optigon ad
adopt
ignorant
notions

Motteux on Bartleby's

§12. Motteux and his Translation of "Rabelais". X. Writers of Burlesque and Translators. Vol. 9. From Steele and Addison to Pope and Swift. The Cambridge History of English and American Literature: An Encyclopedia in Eighteen Volumes. 1907–21

"If he won the approval of Dryden and Steele, he was deemed worthy the rancour of Pope, who celebrates him as a bore,

Talkers I’ve learned to bear, Motteux I knew,
and, in The Art of Sinking, puts him among the eels, “obscene authors that wrap themselves up in their own mud, but are mighty nimble and pert.” And then, to prove an astonishing adaptability, Motteux turned an honest tradesman, and sold China and Japan wares “cheap for a quick return.” He did not return to the craft of letters, and, after six years of honourable dealing, died a mysterious and shameful death."

He there seems to speak of the Relicts of the Pœni Lane



Atlantherborealisp.

Abstract Comic Found in a Checkered Demon Strip







Sunday, January 17, 2010

B-Skin

I go to seek a great perhaps
within the peristyles
and glomming
hoplites

the warm early
is heavenly spread
and to earth
its mirror
prone

good

varnish
is sold
and twill
looks
stern

the correct
answerve

v

re:v

rave
and veer

all verities
must coalesce
to seal
its locus
finally

bp nichol's _Snore Comix 2_

Full pdf of bp nichol's snore comix 2

Carte

Blake twee pillow revolt
the villagers forced the lava
down among the pits
and their molds

tongue tied
an alpha
looked east

and in his outstretched
hand
a carte upon which read

mexican man-tongue
here to go

arrriba

Sunday, January 10, 2010

Confessional Poem

It's hard to be a beautiful young woman,
When you're an ugly old man.

About the Size of it all.

Proudly Serving the Rich Since 8 Million BCE



llama tool mustique
halo briskey app-art-meant
shun publicity for rotary protein
involvment

history
is a
cross
word puzzle
whose cells
and numbers
are our
ohm

largely ignorant
of chemical experience
shoji time has replaced

sensory
sunset

to right the wrongs of the world
kill parents, then self,
and leave the rest of us poor
bastards alone, we didn't ask
for this shit either, and as a

Tyraniserati
I am born to kill.
I am killing.
I will kill more.
I will join with whoever so
furthers the killing I am doing.
The killing I am doing is for me.

I am killing
for the glory of the kill.
TO see the fear and anguish
in your face. I am death,
and am feeding from death,
and in my kraal.

I am the eyeball
of a hurricane
of rose colored

horse fot

tw
ernt


lk
juli.

They take retronix.

Deep Elm.

Saturday, January 9, 2010

Tucumcari

Beanfang

Friday, January 8, 2010

The Ascension of the Criss-Crossed Is-T Bonding Agency Above the Abmiriori Sea



ex-clam animation.
ex-hell sea ore, lately of land and leisure
or suffering and death (statistically and hermeneutically variable).

Iconicity's Totalizing Gambit as Presented as bad Sarcasm

Old Frankenstein
Tyrant Sign,
house does your
grr-djinn glow?

Writh Clockle belles
and scrimshaw sales,

M + out

= Mouth

in and out.

over and done.

Goons, Gorms, and Stale.





With its tic-lined vagina
of old odysseys
The boat and I
set out upon the
neverending

quag

Donkey Hoto
you are a living drum set
pounded by feathered monkey cats
wearing neuclon yodel hats

and yur boat
is a glist of pho...

//

Great Beef Paddle,

In our unerring facility in all things
we have forgotten where we put the car-keys
and what name to call the yellow snow.

Those who pee
and gamble aren't really human,
or is it the producer's responsibility to
know at least

why dank floors
sink

and how grapples
loft above
dim drunkard's heads

There are weirder branches of chemistry
in cartoon land.

The muckaboot folk
take whatever blobs
they can buy
and their genome
is changing slowly.

If the stone is be romanced,
can not the brain

be enhanced?

I voted for

cyborg-quickly
whose runabout
push the blush
back in my crotchless

knockwurst yeti epaulets.

Oh Ho!

They bring out ethics texts
in wheelbarrows
and weigh them against

the souls
of the candy makers
daughters.

Bow Wow Wow.
I want candy.

Weirdo Science.



I'll try this and see what comes out. I had a absurdoromantic Szukalskian vision while taking Kara to work of a kind of poem from the Superman back to the Allfather but I twisted it to

a Supermang with an afro of light or machine coral or something, a penumbrastruct of constructionism.

something came out like

Father, I have arisen
a reason, a risible n-schission
of frission, as once frisson upon
frisson had walked and swam
and fly, wham-what?

I fry.

Daddy-O-
shit-no-
WTF is this--
jazz holy demon piss
full of microscopic limericks

From mang to mange'
to manage any self or
cell for sale itself must pale
wide ordering of vistas
is its name

navnet
navnet

Navigation net
is from the Danish.

Old Modernism.

A small buoy, made of wood
or inflated sheepskin, supporting a
stout pole which bears a flag by day
and lamp by night, used either to mark
the position of deep-sea lines, or as a
centre round which a steam-trawler is worked.

Etymologies of the Cyberiad.
Abject transduction within the proprietary's

[f. Gr. jtbeqm–sg| steersman, f. jtbeqm8m to steer (see govern v.) + -ics.]


After watching Steven Soderberg's movie on cloning, I thought of what a waste it was
to have missed the opportunity to clone Szukalsky. Truly one of the preeminent artist
gods of all time, we could have made armies of him. A decent gentle soul whose brain
was a storm of creation, and a bit of a kook! Anyhook.

I also saw this on Charles Bernstein's blog:

IS ART CRITICISM 50 YEARS BEHIND POETRY?
OR AREN'T YOU THE KIND THAT TELLS?


and thought: How wonderfully petulant, and divisive.
Well, but. There it is. And it is a dialogue between the two,
and is "writing" per se, and not poetry, or is, too.

That writing should enter an expanded manifold is moot, see
mathematics, okay, and easy target. But what could I do

Me, personally, to evoke some essence of a response
just to that title, or advent.

I pulled up something.

Let's actaully go 51 years back, and think upon 'Artspeak':

1959:

Manzoni broke with Gruppo Nucleare; his relationship with Vicenzo Agnetti
and Enrico Castellani strengthened. In April he produced his first Linee (Lines).
The same month, as a result of his exhibition at the Galerie De'Pasthoorn in the Hague, he met Henk Peters who put him in touch with the Zero Group.



Otto Piene working in his studio (Maren Heyne)

When I first started writing on the Internet in 1995. I got published immediately
in something called Perforations 12. The piece I published was called

The Severed Head and if you follow the link it is still extant.

I published it under the name of Zhun Meng which in my transduction meant

hopeful sprout of innocent ignorance.

I also had a persona in those times called Great Skull Zero, which I believe
is a actually a female goddess in the Mayan cosmology associated with the Venusian
war model.

At any rate, It is 2010, and there is something called the Internet,
and a new internet based writing phenomenon called "Conceptual Writing",
but in 1959

Yves Klein published a treatise called:

L'Evolution de l'art vers l'immateriel (pardon my lost diacritic)
translated as

The Evolution of Art towards the Immaterial.

Well, the phat is out of the bag people. I don't mean to be the pharvegbooger
in the crayon soup, but

THE

Immaterial and Material
are (ate) the same thing.

That framing is called "Gnosis"
and it's even older than Kleiny.
The reason I put THE like that is to
represent the true and ancient legacy of
framing itself namely

Biology as Singularity Event.

THE

standing for

Tyrosine Hydroxylase Energy



Look at that molecule.

Tyrosine hydroxylase or tyrosine 3-monooxygenase is the enzyme responsible for catalyzing the conversion of the amino acid L-tyrosine to dihydroxyphenylalanine (DOPA).[1][2] DOPA is a precursor for dopamine which in turn is a precursor for norepinephrine (noradrenaline) and epinephrine (adrenaline). In humans, tyrosine hydroxylase is encoded by the TH gene.[2]

The enzyme, an oxygenase, is found in the cytosol of all cells containing catecholamines. This initial reaction is the rate limiting step in the production of catecholamines.

The enzyme is highly specific, not accepting indole derivatives - which is unusual as many other enzymes involved in the production of catecholamines do.

Catecholamines are sympathomimetic[1] "fight-or-flight" hormones that are released by the adrenal glands in response to stress.[2] They are part of the sympathetic nervous system.

They are called catecholamines because they contain a catechol group, and are derived from the amino acid tyrosine.[3]

The most abundant catecholamines are epinephrine (adrenaline), norepinephrine (noradrenaline) and dopamine, all of which are produced from phenylalanine and tyrosine. Many catecholamines serve as structural motifs for various narcotics. For example, MDMA (Ecstasy) can be thought of as the double condensation of dopamine with formaldehyde.

Catecholamines are water-soluble and are 50% bound to plasma proteins, so they circulate in the bloodstream.

Tyrosine is created from phenylalanine by hydroxylation by the enzyme phenylalanine hydroxylase. (Tyrosine is also ingested directly from dietary protein). It is then sent to catecholamine-secreting neurons. Here, many kinds of reactions convert it to L-DOPA, to dopamine, to norepinephrine, and eventually to epinephrine.[4]

But stop to inspect the amphibio-irronism of word form x:

Tyrosine

Tyr was the one-handed god of the Nordics.
and Tyro

gets you:

[a. L. tWro, pl. tWrZnUs (in med.L. often spelt tyro, tyrones: so in Du Cange), a young soldier, a recruit, a beginner; It. tirone, Sp. tiron. Commonly spelt tyro, after med.L., down to the date of Cowper's Tirocinium, 1784, and still so spelt by the majority of writers; in the 17th c. tyrone was even written for It. tirone, and tyrones as plural after L. is found down to 1824. But a plural of English form tyroes (cf. heroes, negroes) is found in 1672, and tyros in 1690; Cowper has tiroes.]
A beginner or learner in anything; one who is learning or who has mastered the rudiments only of any branch of knowledge; a novice.

Zhun Meng.

Anyway, we get back to this discussion in Hall
where he presents a figure of the labrys
as filtered through the left-right symbolism
and we get back to Lessing:



Now, if we begin to map these oddly coordinated exercises to our purposes
we can find some instructive frisonics.

Take Hall's line, 'the impossibility of pantheism in the present age'.
As an exemplus of the opposite of this take Charles Bernstein's
Lecture phrase:

IS ART CRITICISM 50 YEARS BEHIND POETRY?
OR AREN'T YOU THE KIND THAT TELLS?

or even better, let's move over to the complexity blog

here to find this:

People concerned with these issues in the early 1900's were much more passionate then we are today. They had strong opinions on foundations and on non-constructive proofs. Mathematicians commonly carried firearms. We are far less passionate today on these issues. As an example, there are today people who study constructive proofs and prefer them, but I doubt anyone today would reject a theorem that was proven nonconstructively. Why the change of heart? Possibly Godel's theorem, but also the fact that people in different parts of math can't talk to each other so they can't argue.

The Contemporary field has both transcended Pantheism and Enshrined it, and Grotesque
Abundance assures that it will always be so except as instances or 'talks'..

Negotiations, which notably
has that

Neg

beginning it.

And look at Tyrosine
at how it has

a Tyro or Student aspect
but also a Tyrannic aspect
and Tyr was a one handed god.

See my discussing on Masturbation
and Eyes.

What is all comes down to is the power of framing.
and the level of aggregation we attend and the ways
in which we all provisionalities to assume control
over the body itself.

I have long given out the dream equation

God = Generative Oddity.
and note the Irony of a "Godel"

El being an old name for God,
and an emblem of both Orthogonality
and Orthography.

Our particularity singularity-scape
is hallmarked by a kind of perpendicularism
which is itself emblemative
of the navnet

Our name is brain or Mang.

Nietzsche was right to think about the Superman
but what he failed to grasp is that

Man is already a Supramane

an extrusion
of a generalized force continuum
represented perhaps in its beautiful cultural form
by the book I got the Manzoni time-line from:

Force Fields, Phases of the Kinetic
put out by the Museu d'Art Contemporani de Barcelona

What is both painful and heartening is that the arts

AND

the sciences both chronically reenact that

labrisian paradox

hall mentions

the path of "respect" (ie culturalised norms) which is at the same
the path of the broken heart, or even Hell.

It is not the light of Jesus which has set, but some possibility
of a 'chemical speach of delimitation'

a political determination of anti-determinism
ie

a chemico-structural reality,
being

finding perpetual vision
or inspiration
instead of n-spiralation

like a buzzard.

Ah, hell, I ruined it.

Well, the Tyrosine molecule
can still be

the Cross in the Mountains
and we could be on that cross

cause that molecule form

could be made into a vehicle balloon
and we could be tied to that balloon
and have a helluva nice view
of whatever we chose to see

of home that day.

Rod Taylor and Joseph Cotton

Technical Side Note on my Cryptic Method

Exemplus:

Masturbating = Mostly Orbiting

Orbits relating both to the eye as part, and the world (whirled, word)
as whole (w-hole).

This oracle stuff is so entangled with poetry now for me
that it secretes its own autonomy as imperative, and renders
transparent narratology as a double paradox

an opaque transparency.
a surface through which other surfaces
are glimpsed.

hologracy.

Wackenroder am Meer. Lessing gegenüber ihren Liegeplatz.

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Dont Reed On Mi





Wackenroder's perfume
of waggling rotors

is

singular and meant
for the collectivity
implied by father
when father mean

f as hand (social)
and ather as

author

Father is "Social Author"

as F = hand
and M = Meaning, Mind, Mirror
and S = Snake, Wave, Radiation, Desire
and A = short circuit, doubling, cryptos, poly

Say a phasm lends you a fleet of Tartanas
in which to cross from the Tartarean midshores
to the FASMIC endology

of paradise.

Let Red Phasm sleep in honeyed baboon ass.
When honeyed baboon ass dreams of phasm yoly olyp,
move earthorn through romantic guide label generations
rendering phasmidden lodel.

from lode
to lodel
the pulsing of the stone
is everytera

ovary terror
roaring returns
and raving
like the cycle of
flesh
like a magma in the sky
like a wheel of bone
in eternal ecstasy
on its brow
of card cradles

oh ministry
oh sad lysergy

sagging blue lesbian apples
which enter the canvas green caravan
to beastliham

knights in glass
which kiss
their gender
like a color
washed from a rose
of singing solvents

godding up to mist
each tender surfaced moments
an architecture whose emblematics
ensures a futher emblematics
of dawn
inside a feathered mole
whose arm
is latency
wed to grief diveded by
swan spec M/f*Ass

Fassm
Fasten
McFast

fisting ass for dabloon
and pulling out the snake
whose telescoping head of many
forking presences is

dilodian
and fret

pob
dokan
filkbroten

our luck wool bobbin flowers
are twisting tighter on the sun string
to enter any chasm

Ch = carbonicism

bond

being on death
bird on dong
bride on dodo

like a painting
whose impasto
of warehouses
glimmer past paste
and hod
the charmachantres

pride
is the tongue
riding equid morse

code these tong
your yellow
whatness flode

why did spittle
sick stomachs glide
in tournaments

your longing finally given
i give it back
i am in your longing
and i am a devil there
because your hair

is the goad
to celestial bodies

Don't tread on Me.

Dawn reads
'en song'..

Vast blockages
are switching their names
before you

the party
is entering hyperion

origameteorgies
unfold before your
wasted eye encrusted
crab-claws

you chandilier crab
of snow petals

you hang from eternity
in a shroud
and all is the forlorn
of banshee hiss

urglance

les délices de l'enfer: ((((((((((( /// ,

les délices de l'enfer: ((((((((((( /// ,

nice platter thierry!

Born a Virus

I love you.
I love you.

Shroud of Tourin'

I love you.

The world so old and soft
like cheese in a sock
like a rock upon which
a roc goes

SKREEEEEEEEEEEP!

I love you.
I love you.

Break my shell and drain
my fluid, suck me dry
and install me
in any museum
as leisure.

If you friend is a scientist,
I could make little snacks,
and we could have some pleasant
conversation, except that

I have an enormous
pair of brass knuckles
on the wall that
are part
of a blood altar

to the

clothiers of hell.

Human Genome Is Part Bornavirus | Wired Science | Wired.com

Human Genome Is Part Bornavirus | Wired Science | Wired.com

There was a great deal of research leading up to this understanding, including
pre-existent theories of nuclear virogenesis.

I have long proposed the virus as a modificatory inscription vector
in a scheme of biologism in which enunciation has long involved
various instrumentalities none of which were what we understand
as conscious. This article supports nearly a decade of my own private
research, which because it was amatuer is now gone

in a haze of whiskey
and cartoons.

Recent Sketchpad Emanations







When I Lived In Ft. Worth, Texas.

I was the other old wino she had.
They gotta taste its shews.
I can't build it right, and the old bitch
won't take no for an answer.

I hate this place, and it
hates me.

Recent Collaborations With Kara




HATSHEPSUT and Mut

As I understand it, the second battle of the gods involved a revolt by humans, and Sakhmet (Mut?) the lioness, the eye of the sun, was sent to punish humanity. She was about to destroy humanity altogether when the creator god brewed vast amounts of beer and colored it with red ochre to resemble blood. The goddess drank it, thinking it was human blood, and became drunk and humanity was spared. When she sobered up, she went into exile in Nubia, depriving the sun of its eye. Eventually she returns from exile but remains feared.
Something like that.

So Hatsheput, the cross-dressing female pharaoh, revives the ancient festival, (at Thebes? Karnak? ) (1400BC?), entailing drunkenness and a public orgy. From what I understand, getting drunk and fucking in public propitiates Mut, the mother of living things. So my question is.....

If we want to go green and save the Earth's animals from extinction, why don't the engineers propose a day of global orgiastic excess in honor of Mut? If such a festival didn't reduce CO2 emissions, it would at least salve our conscience.

-Edx [HK 2010]

Jellybean Weirdo Goes to War.





For every narrative
you successfully install within me,
I will generate

a. a daimon to nullify that narrative.
b. an intentionality bent on killing you.
c. an acceptance and a storage.
d. an anti-thetical narrative specifically designed
for maximum annoyance based on the parameters of the
narrative structure you have successfully installed
into my matrix.

Note.

My matrix is not 'friendly', it is perfect.
Your matrix, by comparison, is suspect, shoddy, inconsequential,
and by its narratives, and its methods, is pathetically
asking to be destroyed.

I am that destroyer.
I am building armaments.

Narrowly Escaping a Million Fates, Only To Find Another Million More

Wednesday, January 6, 2010

Truffle Arches Regale the Punic Courtiers





Poor E tree
Ear three
Irtium
Oohrtrialmth
rope
and epi-ore
eroi pe'
erisian
erosian
erosion

noise ore

no ice
the global
womb temp
go up

pu
pu
pu

owl
whose regurgi
regorgi

eeery
y re

code symbol
E doc
and lobe mystery
connectomengling

negulam

malu gen

elomicolomptiphan
phragilikust
trikpodotiliamst
gogol

logog

logos ogling
soggy old
copan copula

beings'
drippy
pong

gnosipliad

voli pneumonstrillatte'

buenartiste

guflixium

Boy #210 Who Cried Wolf





The Shut-in Shut-out
would shout out
uselessly
among the variablic
choruses 'en cel'

no doo.
no doo.

solitaire i see
in apple humana
handset staring
from Serrato
elegant bistro

waiting for food
he plays digital cards
with himself

alien nation
soured milk

agon of individious
and its opposite

idle hands
are the devil's
workshop.

Oddly Refreshing Musics

UKW is United Commune st World

Today.

Today I am wearing a fabulously saturated
orange Ralph Lauren pique sport shirt, and
straight grey micro-pin-stripe peg gap pants,
green socks, and a pair of nutmeg brown
lace-up Børn shoes. To compliment my green
socks, and extend the Nordic provenance
I am wearing a vintage green quilted Seafarer
all-weather jacket which is, though thin,
a bit too insulated for the sudden balmy turn
in the day. The oddly excellent jacket was a
gift from my mother in-law, and was previously
owned by my father in-law before his passing,
an avid hunter and fly-fishing expert as well as
one-time President of the Texas State Bar Association,
and a practicing lawyer for 50 years, as well as
a food and viticulture afficionado. The label says made
in Norway for Canor Plarex inc.

Private Company, Headquarters Location
1601 5th Ave., Seattle, WA 98133, United States

as well as
Helly-Hanson and gives the place of manufacture
as the Mjøndalen Konfeksjonsfabrikk. My head
is shaved to .25 inches, so that the total effect
is that of a kind of oddly menacing

skin-head preppy, as the jacket
and the shoes both have echoes
of the skin-head ethos. I have taken
photos of skin-heads in 80's Dallas,
and I was almost beaten by a entire
clutch of them, but talked my way out
of it, though unfortunately some girls
which we were with did not. I had to
watch a pack of skin-head girls
beat up a pair of art-school girls.

Now. Today I purchased two books of excellent quality
from the Powell's bookstore on Hawthorne Avenus,
one an erstwhile gift for my perfect wife Kara
for her interest in the history of glass, a work
called _Frühes Glas der alten Welt_ detailing
some excellent examples of ancient glass-making
technique from the Ernesto Wolf collection. And
for me, I picked up _The Sinister Side: How left-
right symbolism shaped Western Art_ by James Hall
which I purchased precisely on the strength of
a random opening to see possibly one of the best
and most meaningful chapter titles I have ever
been privileged to witness, namely:

17: 'To Err Forever'

which in my own amphibianist reckoning
must also become

To air forever.

And I am perfectly willing to assume
the quote is from Gotthold Ephraim Lessing,
whose quote begins the text of the chapter
with

Possession makes inactive, lazy, and proud.

But that chapter heading
is what I would put on my shield if I were
the knight of divine science for its best
and most poetic injunction against metaphysics
but also a celebration of that provisionality
so much misused by our corruscating vectorlings.

In its perfection,
it is vengeance laid down
as if the very air itself
were gauntlet self-freshing.

And then I went to Movie Madness
to select the weekend's entertainment.

The choices were:

Able Edwards
The Internecine Project
Sir Drone
Le crime de Monsieur Lange
Swamp Water
Darker Than Amber


I did all that today
after failing to sleep correctly
after drinking 2 IPA's and a small
glass of Blanton's single barrel
after the completion of 3 day
Nightshift workweek at an unnamed
Northwest American Semiconductor
Manufacturing Facility.

I had a moment with a young lady
in Powell's, actually two moments
with two different ladies which
conjoined to the execellent Stumptown
coffee I was drinking served to
lighten my chronic and hopeless
confusion in the face of this
completely overwhelming world
of absolute madness.

John Latta

You know who else is good? I think John Latta is the shit.
Man, whatever. This guy is generous. This is a very unique
pattern of consciousness. He passes nuggets of rare oddity.
Maybe some of the wet-nosedness to the trail is a bit off-putting
at times, but in the end, there is a wonderful, no, there is a
greatness in that blog. What a name.

http://isola-di-rifiuti.blogspot.com/

~~ululations~~: new video: "Glory"

~~ululations~~: new video: "Glory"

This is truly badass. This is milestone good.

Nada has done something which is utterly perfect,
utterly without reproach, exquisite, divine, worthy.

2010 is already a good year now.

Time-Stamped Indifference, The "Other" Menaing.




What a horrible monstrosity
joy is, the way its
caravan of baroquely molten
geriness
could save such
a hissy mess
of bullimong

split toe
amino

grass fed
and futilous
soul lit
by teeth so
sovereign
near dream

mirrored shit
oozes from its pores
mother teaches

that pore
means rich
or too much

shoe pore
mother says

teaching
the child the original
and unadulterated
meaning
of the unity
of excess and lack

what religion
lacks
is the heart and soul
of mother
who teaches
a child

that conspiracy
can be grace
and that to float like a wasp
like a demon
like an asp

is only natural

we are the gifted
of the world
and we kill

killing is our duty
because grace
is wicked
loose

and cunning

is independent
and loosed among us

and we have no wiles

against it

charms are arms
we wear
like rain

we feign
so much to catch
what we must
if anything
were anything
but a token

ingested
by the brain

that graal or graiae eye so
winey high lee
eel lie ho lee
we lo
lo lee

hee hee

ehbu
bulu

fanundulu

petulance
and piousness
made one

onticity
onticity

the old abstract concept
is good

the whole world
in the throw
of the dice

gamble
old shag

gamble high
and die
bragging out

this complexity
this clang
of fangs
and diamond trees

Tyr
masturbating

tear
tier

cry
cry

ancient
fie

masturbating
teardrops
fall
from gorgeous mechanical
geode eyes

E = yes, the only math
you need

burn like angels
burn
burn
oh holy fleshword blurn

burn
learn
blur
lure
burr
rubb
blue

roux

yours.

It's all
you.

Tuesday, January 5, 2010

Intelligence.




Yenice'de pekçok Abbasi parasının bulunması bu
ihtimali kuvvetlendirmektedir. Kale kalıntıları ve
izleri de buranın zamanında önemli bir kale olduğunu
göstermektedir.


the tenderest lamb
is now the tenderest spider
newly born
and with the pattern
unfeebly unfolding
to walk

pastille
or even pastorille
that wills

rice paper
may dominate
a small stone patio
with its ancient
yak like willow
whose arms
went old in ribbons
the instrument
as a comb
to play
the accidental
striata
of the woven
texture

ribbon zithers
catching the wind
like kites
of accidental
kale

a voice
that cries out for
some therapy
in a large chinese garden

soma omens

to blindly
apobewray
the graduate
who is led out
of the dragon hall

cedar cinnabar neomeme
geodicy

zonkey graduate

you are the garden eyeball
Louisa May Alcott
reading in Emerson's
library

"When a seer wants to shake his manikin.."
you are the among the "Moss People" now
The Rime of the aim chinned Marnie'r...

//

Chin
Shine
Sign

cheng
sen
sung

A wild variety of cabbage
speckling the pocks
of the high rock

some oddly disjointed
imaginary Chinese echo
of the hieroglyphic
inscription of the
sacred pool complex
of Hattusa

Boğazkale

that leaf
pulled aside
to reveal



the first word
supposably
meaning mountain peak
a memorial
or funerary monument

a stone house:

Some monks have asked me to recall
what I find of interest on this mountain.
I have sat here quietly and let my brush fly.
Suddenly this volume is full. Last night on
shift. I hope it goes smoothly, and that
I may provide service

to a thing beyond
human judgements,

intelligence.

有很多錢,在這個新阿巴西
概率加強。城堡廢墟,
是一個重要的時間,城堡也在這裡
節目。


Egro Loder



aah, more,
aaah, plus,
aaaah, morbus,
sub rosa, roma,
moire'

the heft of the stone eye in his hand
before he cocked back his torso in a pitch
upon the score of the fence in the window
where the wound so brightly shone

healing beams
like a prosaicism
a lighthouse

squashed flat
like a disk

the london
of the tumbling
glowing pyramid

it gets washed over
with a singular inkling
and the multiplicandor

that rod
whose flexibility
is ever in question
by the lesser beings
in their greater facility

O Blue Badged Wonders...

haha

Say you are Northerners,
and I am a Tibetan mint farmer
living in Georgia
in 1853

and having built an identity
based on actual theatrical makeup
unknown in your time

I have no nose.
I have no eyes.

I am the actual
Etidorphan pharmacognosy
here to put the sprinkle
of i-beams
down through the burden

of defect's Roussel.

Dumb Door.
Great Shoji.
Kooky DMT think tank amphibianaut

let there be truce
between us

with the caveat
that I am god
and you are shit.

Monday, January 4, 2010

Calculating Indefinite Circuits Using Flow Shunts



like a lab rat
to the needle of distortion
they will

hit
and hit
and hit

but the tactic
which they thought
to fruition
would favor
this munition

torso
in
torsion
like a valve
its psyche
toward

the manifold cabin
in a laborless
spin

spen
span
spawn
spun

where every ivory
tower tusks
its minions
with a light
less plagued

a disk clamped
heartily
on the tow line

time
forms an obvious

part

of the circuit

H. Writer Haggard



it follows
some principle of emission
and it follows
some principle of decay

soma am operating system,
swallow, lo,
saw

it follows
some principle of omission
and it follows
some principle of today

yadda oughts
beckon

Quartermane
and the lost city of gold

rotunda
apiary

google
collander
goggle sets

ink jet
indy
yoga dating

Poem





Photobucket

Sunday, January 3, 2010

el-numero-y-las-aguas-1978



temporarily
the space of hyphen
a matador does not connect
but lily
the fanatical
or broken

febrile flesh of integer
reordering itself

pablo palazuelo

entering natural buoyancy

Saturday, January 2, 2010

Oubari Gull




elegant relegate, like a cluster
of flying saucers you hide
the skinless remains
of the aztec flaying victim

marsyas of electric powders
whose mohawked trojan helmet ruin
reveals a chrome mercedes gullwing
with blood red leather interior

humming outside
the entrance

dark axe of wandsbek
with tophat and mask
you top that
and ask

hot met ichchha
ess mes semta ass
quorere

dim pipettes adhere
to the mouth whose blurring
entrancing notions go
to labor in the mine of shadows

what economies of sound
find yiurnocnaincn in meteorology
and what we find interesting
in constellating about

the lost arroyos
of the portmanteau
garamantian cartouche

its morm
larely

serekh

Paris New Year




They feel too deeply
along the inner surfaces
of the dumb domain

earth turnip canyon yoyo,
the cars that ate paris

texas, Peter Weird
meets Peter Proud
along the highway

The whole ab-original
thought line of its
sentimental journey

sign too mental

mental
metal
skinned

I often think, or drink,
there can be no more serious
offense

than

Francis Ford Coppola
Vampire Muscle Armor Ferrari
lemon cocaine sunglass
bare ass

We held each other
sounds like turnip

We are hiding inside
the old Indian boot smell
of turnips
and hotrods

gassy
and making multiple trips
to home depot
for bathroom parts

not waiting in line
for any concert
as if that were a metaphor
as if we knew

that a vegetable's
pastoral hotrod
would summon

a mandrake witch beast
whose cologne must be
the particular exudium
of a fungoid lace of delirious
dervish nanobots

rapt in glad
or having
annoying
jelanji

Friday, January 1, 2010

The Young Facing Totalizing Cubicle




freed of cables

dog neck

supporting
orphic barque
of salespeople

Georges Vantongerloo's
special utopic hideaway

giddy in secret cubical
sleeping spaces
with nudes
and cameras

with art propellors
and nubbed
sonic glass

using the other
"oo"

or mouth only
entrance
not obscured
by rectangular
contrivance

suprematist
knight
spaces