Tuesday, February 24, 2009

La Gloire

[image by Mat Brown]

perfection's freakish imp

there is a naked witch
a wave hat itch's ich
on the battlefield
who cannot be killed
who cannot be called down
by the aminotion

by the cannon
by the rifle

cannot be hit
for she is too quick
too agile
too spectral
and ragingly

In my tall military hat
and dragging mustards
her eyes
seem like vast dictations
of palimpsestic orchards

inside my skeleton
is an amber warmth
of timeless music

sick blue amoeba whales
rise in rapt clusters of shymbrace

i pass through her
through La Gloire
back into the battle
the stupidity of man

stewed cupidity
stuck avidity
strewn aridity

and its perfection
or erectile perforation
or aurochylously
pure formation
however carelessly

la Gloire.. still larger
in her largesse

there is nothing but
beasts of snapping jaws
to make the crinoline
of her collared
dear and arching


flaser gabbro
cum hypabyssal ukha's
cooking pot's
topiary huttern hatter

Saturday, February 21, 2009


I recordied a spontaneous fififaux-italianonce poom while listening to the wind through the bamboo
outside the window of my den for a moment until it got too chilly. It is tutti-silly!


Chris Casamassima's the Proteus

I've just been reading Chris Casamassima's free Moria ebook the Proteus and really like the depth and subtlety and, surely, sublimely frolic'd routines. The odd, oblique angles of his seeming subtexts certainly fall into that Renaissance category of 'the interesting' in a way which is not just a euphemism for ugliness, but a gracious nod to the wisdom of understanding the textures in all things, even in misunderstanding. No part of me balked at his liberties with punctuation, and its straight ahead absence. Just take a look at this section nearing the end of the section called Book of Proteus:


its aeroform I masturbation heave
Afric apology Eurymachus Afric
ives exhaust add verse here comes
puissance alert parent add mote
of druid ear less juice and no
baroque see valor rests its digest
nip a squadron ooze of O how
launder came and goosed friend
we manage seers and box involve
but no one meant to lean us over

Just raking my eye across that lovely mess I come up with

sapphrique ivy's..

and I just love reading the word aeroform
which sort of glows with 'foam' and 'arrow'
and in its nonceness gleams cupidity..

There is a great deal of elan in this text, and some of it
is perhaps a little too elanish of some stripe for some, but
the way I read (think chitty chitty bang bang driven by a howdy doody pulchinella)
its works, plus I really like oceanic metaphors and thematics, especially

the oceanic's relation to godhead, ie complexity.
This is a taut, loose, elanish expression of some version
of post-modern sprezzatura from the Court of Prince Namor.
Very nicely done!

Plus. The cover painting is really good I think, especially
the figure looming in both a defiant and self-uncanny posture,
which doesn't echo anything negative to my mind except the
weirdness of the primal perpendicular, the orthagon of the organon.

Cheers Chris for a great book!

Morticia Speaks French ala Zamorin

In its space family robinson kit
there was a pharaonic chinned
papercup dispenser

O Tish, That's French!
[smooch smooch smooch]

accorder, décharger, dégager,
dégrever, délivrer, distribuer,
donner, épargner, éviter,
exempter, exonérer, libérer,
prodiguer, soustraire

The Pharaonic Robinson
Family Crusoe enter
French Telespace

Gomez Addams
is seen in a small
completely black

1. bureau
2. service
3. charge
4. fonction
5. poste
6. devoir
7. mission
8. office
9. chambre
10. cabinet
11. aide

with a black velvet painting
of the nude Odalisque Morticia
with a bizarre green
caterpillar lemur cat perched
on her upper pelvic

tory! ("The Quarlish and Troublish foke")

A picture of a Viceroy
Acupuncture of a vicissitudinary:

Bark ode.

Ode To a Mason Jar

celebrate jail bait
inside a mason jar,
a parrot has hand-cuffs
through its cheeks
and its cheeks
are the isle of sky

why are we so
carousel so
carne cell sew
mouth shut
tush ~thoom~
multiple explosions
around anything
that isn't cryptically
just complexity's
communicative delimited
lexicon bifurcating
the it it
perfect stankathon

by that i mean
wave thangkathone
like thujone
something really
built of tiny parts
like bubbles that make
sounds in my chest cavity

the abstraction layer
is both our greatest achievement
and our most tragicomic liability
it is that crown of thorns
that medusa wig
that snake aureole nimbus
and floppy Tom Sawyer hat
or stewardess penetration wrestler

quit acting up people
a poem
is a mason jar

a specific meaning
is so very nubile
like the Masonic Order
like jail bait

why would God
or even Elvis
or Phyllis
require the descendants
of amoeba loafers
to be all

big beard
too weird
to let it be

to just let it be
i think of the world
with a floppy pissy thing
in a mason jar
with wings

Thursday, February 19, 2009

Die Verhexten Notenchoradatumbyzumständer

Co sine it
has a mind of its ohm//

Huber Street.
I see a poor wretch who looks like
W.C. Fields trying to get in shape
by riding a bicycle. The big red nose,
though immortal, signals

immortally alcoholic pyramids
H uber alles (Bardic Speed Oil for Bank Dicks)

Earlier that week I found a pair of
light aqua overalls
but did not buy them, I had
not practiced any apperception, vaudeville,
or artificial intelligence
due to big screen, off-stage

deeply remote
sensing ore kettle
or seeing (finally a ringworm emblem
in the skin of the sun)

or Dionysus
in a football helmet
with a mohawk of dynamite
as portrayed by Norman Rockwell
which always makes me think of
something Willard would always say
at the board meetings of Rockwell


If others had not been foolish, we
should be so..

black ghosts are senseless.
black ghosts drift among the ferns
between the quiet houses.
sometimes one hears a child screaming
for an extended period of time.
sometimes the black ghost simply
listens to the empty syntax of birds,
making note of subtle changes like:

debulliate wastine georgic kat exochen
debulliate waste time georgic caterwauling
debutauntase haste vine engorge kraterion

"Imp ties"

Somehow sensibility
exists very clearly in animals
and somehow animals

only hear

in this purr



Today, Instead of a Japanese
Death Poem
I will read (write)
a Japanese Life Poem:

Let this funky motherfucker roll on,
Hototogeezer witchwatchy breezysneezer..

Do not flinch
if I pull Yoda
from out
my asspants..

Raised in a barn,
what I'm gonna do?

Wednesday, February 18, 2009

I Wish I was a Better Person

"Let them do and undo, say and unsay. Whatever you decide together will be gospel."
from Teofilo Folengo's _Baldo_ (vol.1)

Soggy Lepus!
Louvred Bosch, Is the bacteria castle of Cappodocia
the bureaucratic turtle person's private primrose?
I am lost. Lost without wife, without country, without
guidance, because I was not never no guide, nor goodness
without an aid de camp, or broccoli hearing aid
out-of-control side-of-head-wigging-thing.

I am "pressed hemp bone" toward almost Kafkaesque
plain underwear management. I am almost a Daddy
to many unruly sloppinesses giving eep eep brolenes.

A whole diorama of complex milk shavings
enters the side of my head. The ancient French Kings
must've smelled like milk shavings, but even now
I am talking idiotically to excellent sirens
whose bodiless ravens could be pedophilia
on an executive tie.

One good thing: Hyper-realistic cartoon buildings
can illustrate whole catalogues of balcony violence.
Also, tall models of both sexes seem like have come
to the skinny part of the movie when the credit
rolls by, "credit" seeming French and milky,
a small sticky semen where my mind used to be,
where yours used to be. I can replace

any Earth virus
with the life of the composer,
any Earth history
with the life of the Eohippus,
any equestrian, sad, or slow-paced drama
with the unfolding of multiple
ingrained policies of abrupt unsanctioned

I forget of what this hammer dizz..
I find a piece of artifact in a grotto
called grotto.

Grotto called Grotto, are there many
praying animals inside your egg-like
dream rectum? I think we'd all better pray
for this clunky monkey sign drama dairy.
Came El, of large wad, came bag, of unending
WTF. Mutant Ninja Turtles could have a shrine,
and I would be there with the little turtles
of tiny town.

Brave Kappa,
I skip over some houses called Mozarteum,
then later hear an absurdly revving engine
after the lights have gone down, though
I hope the dawn will still move me anew
if I remember it can. I wish I was
a better person, but what can anyone
expect when one is seeking a wig
of flexible rubber hotdogs
in a world

primarily composed
of Zombie Baker Pin-ups.

I wish I was a Bratwurst person,
or simply a Bat person, I think
it would be interesting

to be a hovering hunchback
whose hump is a chlorophyll
leaf stomach

helium debauch eyeball
through which
ambrosial collaborations
might fester
in the perfect and tragic
and perfectly magic

If you see a piano and singer
perched on a platform inside an angel
of trees
would you please
make a video and put it on you tube
for my wig of infinite rubber hotdogs.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Lambic Phi-Cone

I cannot make a living
I am

Muh muh muh
Terror of Babble
Tear ore of bauble
Tier roar of buboe

Morning iguana,
you sombrero
is squirming
with jellybeans,
you lamb-cone
emits some
muse sac.

Monday, February 16, 2009

Amazon Indians accused of cannibalizing farmer - CNN.com

Amazon Indians accused of cannibalizing farmer - CNN.com

documents: Black Metal Sound Poetry

documents: Black Metal Sound Poetry

An All-Seeing Hunchback Says Substance Is Innocence

grey manes are favoured
whatever their colour
language and its alpha beast

sp ag
sp og
sp oddit

whatsoever covets I
eyes become

comely is the hissing
and still there are missing
something tucks its limbs
up under a sun

such splendor
in a cinder
fur roosting
toward trans
parent flame

Defect, or surplusage
or immutation in the same
speaches faltering either
the congruitie grammaticallous,
or the sence, or both~
ROD CONE is surling
Sterling Twy
light zonesp (Ivy in its older name)


black water
space or Z

casinos notices
sinus es

what yet
is the alpha beast
to know?

[eternal return slot]'s "video"

They are tiny
and polar hodographs
and their winkings
wan kings

They are manking waveoles
where the waveoles spread

I like
It like
Its likes
It seems
hodymoke to muck
the churlhood of its
longue chaise, its
chez zeit zeichen

to Nietzsche's
bridge to something beyond man.
I find it interesting.
I find it interesting
that I am sitting here
writing this within eye-shot
of a volcano
just like in Zarathustra.
It's funny that fuyugomori
something standard tsui karazake to
a contemporary mode of
"narren I carry"
or a chyppynutie

cicurated chypre pechs'

'what brathling monkis hait flesche?'

Sunday, February 15, 2009

Penk Puncticiple

[audio version]

vary a gated minne a skrule
agates towing shred
the globulous cedar
is led anon
toward its entrancing

debutante or decibel
the tithing hocks of shrove
will fiss and fotch
the kilburth clough


crawl with a small child
of flexible blue coral
into the waxy cranium aviary
where the crane young
rain by veep

peeve and
your peevel &
the odgs (oddcuss) of gomdom street
shape of lake hovers

we mete out
the fine abode
of the Aventine Circus
showing our strange hand signs
to the psioner
pioneer prisoner
be hund the wan whey mer ore

whatever expugnable examples
may be given to speaktickle

exspuition's inquisumption
would pagoda
an additive
and gaping gripe

Saturday, February 14, 2009

Insurance Sales on the Single Polar Forebearance

[audio version]

a caveman of K-mart took to the Skoal
O how the Icee is lucid

red ice
menstrual peanut disease sportswear
dead polar bear
which we dragged through K-mart
to weave a coat for in red licorice

a geico caveman is eating a lizard

at K-mart
the hillocks of the parking area
are full of campfires

skinless jesus!
O how the Icee is lucid,
no critique
no critique
Aztec K-mart Temple

The last Voltaire
is a transparent deep space shrimp
with a jet black spinal column
wearing a wig of polar licorice
a wig of curling elevators
stuffed with singing aldermanikin
who say
'1 Ton cubes of blue paper speak'

Then, towards the hush
of endless of valleys of mush

in an enormous old head
of pink obsidian
staircases are carved down into the place
where I lay with my lover

long darknesses of blind kissing
the universe is over,
Le Rêve, si, es rivenue..

The Universe
is Revenue

Our Valentine
is a thick red monument

years of snuggles
like a great wall
of catacombish porcelain
in which perfume ghosts
haunt tea kettle
clipper elk trees

I think a cave
is a heroing:


Friday, February 13, 2009

Kohlrabi Star Freighter Totem

day and night they play the tom-tom
around the synthetic gravity emitter
the totem freighter Burecho Vovoluptiary
up out of Betelgeuse with a cargo
of pretty pets

kweepy knox
the gold gets in your fort
goldi lox
licorice panty
pretty pet

chewing betelnut
the juice
gets on your pelt

victimology is a lens
but the double eagle

the meander
the meander

ghost forth
o meanderthrall
o indexical think ack

re-ent twaimbweem
didi doon dune

double edged
balloon axe lens

balloon lens

balloon lens axe


Tom or Mot
plays with pals
on the Tom-Tom
or the Momo.

Which came first
the Word,
or Instrumentality?

Since the body
is already an instrumentality,
and since syntax
came before the word,
or is the word

dishonest form
of syntax
yoked to
the instrumental

Little ittle TITI..



day and night they play the tom-tom
around the synthetic gravity emitter
the totem freighter Burecho Vovoluptiary
up out of Betelgeuse with a cargo
of pretty pets

Can you imagine a solid gold
like nude porno statue
of whatever

takes up cache
takes up the Siva
of generative ash

G.A.S.H. (Johnny Cash in Black)

Thursday, February 12, 2009

After A Day of Popular Mendicancy, A Machinic Brooch Enters The Vault of All Stupids

There ends its jollity, its jewelity
swinging in the jowls
never outrigger, or stingray's head
a mannish idea took it up the hill
towards a fierce shape which submerges
a social construction becausing
moss, a moss without a moss
a meaning without a meaning,
we were hunting addresses together
but they slowly
came so quickly
becausing sang cause blood
"to read"

to ward its sirens toward
the filth
the fifth or civil fiction onwards

amendment means to mend
to add

how do series (invoking ceres)
interrupt one another

there is a simple masp



something comes back out
the murderer
through the laughing stock
something harangues
in dirt


it is tough to see
the empty miracle
torture itself
with an empty miracle

it is as if


you can imagine
a tumor
which is an opal

you can imagine
a meteor
which somehow

a 400 billion year old

brain genital music flower
whose masturbation
is a beautiful city
that dreams
through death
and cascading images

a weird angry woman
throws a vase
at another vase

it is sad to tell her
the ocean

is all weird bleating

bleating to bleating
blust to blust

To temien þe lichames orguil
(A snack hangs on a tea(s)

Monday, February 9, 2009

Cooperating With All The Compliments

Do you think, O blue-eyed banditti,
Because you have scaled the wall,
Such an old mustache as I am
Is not a match for you all!

A Bill Cosby line
or arabesque:

He died ugly
blown up
on a tennis court



his bee
cause be
or chaosby vicelinge
the Drogueman

Enclosing the arbrous T
was a masonry of a truly perplexing nature.
The original mont had been hewn down to a mostly
vertical column, and encased in a spherical webwork
of brick aqueducts all of which fed from a single crowning
ring hovering like a halo above the arbrous T whose
branches had been fitted with ten-shousand varieties
of avian domestic weaving each of which had its own emblem
which was found as a repeating pattern among the lush,louche
cascade of bricks~

and in the distance
a tennis court

where two soft orange cyclopes
with attenuated mammal duck-bills
like a Codebec's Toylet

softly harangue
the fuzzy tao
bachoftne unt undawor


I Spy
I Spy

All aho ahiba
Mater alabama

hiss pie [state]
harpy herpes
her pet (teepee embroidered with rebek)

to purr (Diocletian responses to Asclepio)

A chiral object (hand)
in an achiral container
leaves a chiral space.

of ages

[lens correction]



'baganaius' 'bakana'

Foolscap meets Fosca
in the quim of Gwynplaine
the resistance of its key
written on the surface
of a throbbing vein
and a vain robber.

My poem
is an establishment
of much repute:
"Le repoussoir"

the reputation war
the disputation of names

'it says here in the catalogue'

moves silently like the pert
of Franz von Stuck
upon the black body of the Boidae

"it is believed"
the ugly woman you hired
I walk beside you, and suddenly
you are

passion, incoherence, soveregnant

Sunday, February 8, 2009

Of Ist and Psiontics [The Lord's First Water Speaks]

fur root
lest pot

the gloamy
floamy hule

a [P]
rotates about
its own fuel

aqueous tool seed
your hyle
like a luminous hand balloon
sits blinking

coded aloft
in the Himalayan

orange dion
the ice is striving
upon the savage eeking girls
which fall upon your
wax puppet shrine
to find the treasure herbs
grown in your secret
laboratory garden

herbs, moreover
displayed lovingly
upon enormous hypno-wheels
not unlike the floral
chronometers whose
Marvell computes
a garden

a vaunted din of gar
or avant garden if you like
but 'boasting fish'
in noise sauce
would thing its lice

poor exquisitie machines
roasting in the kosmon's

O lace-like and unfathomable
of tiny oddling being

that Mercury
was a swarm of mirrored birds
descending to the T
where any thought you'd had
led any thought you'd B

Tits up
humps shown
waves hewn

new savoy cabbage
money grown as trees
and triste

now here in all the mysteries*
the germination
of ist

and psiontics

among the hue maned

"Rabbit Piss Zeus"
Tongue ab Zoë

*mystery = (my ist story, M(3) [is] S(wave)*T(interference) 'tarying' (being stored) [Meaning is Wave Interference Being Stored.], mist orrery [mist or gas or chaos] c-->n see noise as coise, cause as noise) etc. It is in this way that we can find computationalism actually encoded into language itself, if the copula represents a bifurcation node as it exists in the perfomance of syntaxis within the vehicle of Zoë. This is why W,H,M all have cognates spread through the langue effluvium, ie: History, Mystery, Wisteria.

The H represents the fundamental arc of being's reification from moment to moment, the inch'allah if you will, or body electric, or simply EM, or 3. The arcing between thoughts, people, events. Earth to Hearth, Arse to Hiss. M already is W, and Wave already is Meaning, EM, 3ness, geometry, as in Einstein, Space-time is a shape, a geometry.

If you have any questions you may address me as Bohemian Uberlord, or Yeti-Bug-hand-Prinset, or anything really, I'll even answer to Monkey lad of Ezo.

To Thee

Scantily Clad Press

Scantily Clad Press

Lot of free E-chaps to read at Scantily Clad Press. I guess that's what is going on.

Saturday, February 7, 2009

Spot Still Smells

A Text For:

This engagement of study (enactivism world):
What grotesque idiocy, Obama has been lost
in the human race, across sere and utmost respect
for everything anything a message has was grown
on before he paid Cybersemiotics:

Why is Information of the all memorable works
a great message that comes from this theory of human rights?

A Cleaning of animals surmises Gilliam's movies, yet still,
economists of the misinformed rhetoric of living view the Holocaust.

The perpetrators have grotesque and generously accomplished roots
deep in art level 9669. No, the fantastic, flat-out grotesque systems biologists
take so much interest in the Israeli state, to this engagement he shares as his
motivations upon the grotesque take Steve Levy's raid on the clever,
though the multiple millennia, of this grotesque florentin Malkin sure rented machine.

That the sacrifice, now masking all who follow living things they assume are
an area got around to grotesque managing partners at the Institutional
unification of the Buddhists--have been saying suck my Grotesque smell
in gothic time.

I've rendered rejected altruism why the cost we offer moments are a blend of
how one believes that distinction between the One and evil. Selfishness drew a missing link
from the grotesque, But was his self-sacrifice bred immorally on those arguments?

The United States-are not enough to explain the cultural captains of industry that
make up for the Media I finally placed within the Suffolk County Executive inquiry.

Biosemiotics upheld as the highest their customers and our and unity of our described shelter
all along, and telling that unites grotesque and marginal figures which human corneal tissue from
the spirit has a "She-Caesar" for out-of-touch executives.

The main information and computational Christopher Whalen, a feed the hungry referencing caption on the cover
of just about any movie says:

The movie opens with your comparison perceived as non-threatening, amusing clearly as it
did the dizzying and ultimate sacrifice That Is Not Enough to the following magazine:

Where is the often occursed head of "We're in this unimportant" that seems like some
naked mole rats drafting this letter and a few Apartheid remnants is grotesque, one though
is the audience to the psyche we would Gilliam himself explaining with my ultimate enemy
the homeless whatever watching Terry, however, is the apology is as sweet as it is a sincere
condolence to the "grotesque."

But he also of the human:

"And it's done without the backs of other hands, it was a strawman history
back to that humorlessness gone horribly grotesque in a violation of anyone's manierism
of the Federal genetic experiment in the commentariat of Beth:

A noise of repudiation is a sacrifice:

That's cat urine. I had a handful of these poems, realms and manageable imaginations.
In unlike and unsettling disgustingness, I am defined as a person who can only be interconnected
and interdependent merely as a trivial theory of a critic called Leachman cameo at the highest is beyond

Absolutely Risk Analytics is climbing ever higher.
His mandate somehow makes uninformed leavings.
After washing and laughing together, you have your way with
Dish treats in full view that frets.

The pull with part future taxpayers is "It's grotesque," said I am currently your hackneyed, glib Thomas
Combines taxidermied animal heights of level really I touch on growing fields of culture to convey the
bottom about them? Bishop Williamson's grotesque Jack Black / Cloris virtue clergy being of when not

and on my carpet

The spirit of sacrifice is cognition and

Gilliam's Tideland, and, the tumultuous story of combination.
The bonuses as opine and biosemiotics that have resorted to telling:

Spot still smells of
a nonverbal.

The Laocoön Straddles The Phanerojelly's Sere Ethose

Equo ne credite, Teucri / Quidquid id est, timeo Danaos et dona ferentes

What bull is wounded
whose snake
already a cry
hoarse in angry oceans

White snorting foam
minions of muscle
to embody resistance
whose careless scales
do not at once
makes themselves
a parent

Ille simul manibus tendit divellere nodos

Ill simulataneous mandibles tend to drivel nodes

perfusus sanie vittas atroque veneno,

Whose perfusive and sanitary vittles are atrocious venom
[of namelessness] "venn ohm"

clamores simul horrendos ad sidera tollit:

Clamoring simultaneously, hordes of sidereal tolls

qualis mugitus, fugit cum saucius aram

quail under "the mugitis" of fucked up cum-sauce in a ram

taurus et incertam excussit cervice securim.

Bull is uncertain /EXCUSSIT/ in the service of

a securely rimming rhyme, REM, MER, mere air
is profound

and dear.

Behold a Map of the Yonaguni-jima ruins

Wings penetrate the concrete
of the Valkyrie Mandala drone
Weather hybridizer

their forms disassemble into
the brethren of perfected charm
whose radium toiletry arms
are self-sufficing arbor trolls

The nude Harbor Patrol
takes to the Cosmopolis
University Lake in a flash
of astringent contouring masses
and leveling post-abstractional
milieus of random pet fabrications

Yoni gumi jungle vagima
burps its oracular Grelling


See my growling ikon's eye
I am a wave and dye
Every moment knot the same
fabric of which nigh maim

Energy is murky bliss
watch its tumble boil
and hiss, a war witch
calls the drone

Energy is narred
and cloned

GLORY is the hand of HUE
lives inis free cyder

beholds a map
of the Yonaguni


Wet pineapple flesh armored knight
you are welcome too!

Friday, February 6, 2009


The Lord is thy Shemp head, Thou shalt not haunt,
for he maketh mi to lyre-down in green jellybeans
with the Aunt of your mother, whose antennae are slender
and straw-like, and which receive signals from the ether
that sayesth:

Eshep too tawway
foomi ach mitlerleben
pu blicheinen apoclastic
kiepen on tructrin

On a clear day, a jaw-bone covered in eyes
can see for meters without number, er well
there is a number, but in the aery bliss
of great and towering cliffs

we find sleepy sugary gods
in soft egg-like pouches
near ruined and sacred springs

their armpit accordion thistles
whine such terricloth and mowgli
such movement of a whirr wind gully
by golly

whippoorwhills get in the tedium
and rasp about
lucky as an orange turkey pipe
smoked by a green-skinned
pointy eared pilgrim

O what might have been!

I see Amanda Cart[W]right's ass.
It is communicating something:

accidental dimples
like weird underwater temples
just attract hunky voodoo noughtsie doodads
with scuba-gear
and Aristide Maillol hovering
in a stolen torso volumatrix

or the sweet Kiepenkerl of Münsterland
peddling sugar tumors

Thursday, February 5, 2009


Vooga Wanna Choofa!

Anything traditional
is good in a cabin
by the fire, but

doe needs nought

tradition needs not an internet
and the internet needs not

ant radiation:

Come here, Bonaparte!
Vooga Wanna Choofa!

Pipes make excellent props,
people, make, excellent, propitiations


a lovely gentle old man told me today,

"their programming isn't so good, something
wrong in their minds"

speaking of the civic body
and their construction of a baseballsoftball
on ground
with a high water table

Jeff Koons
should do something
Peter O'Toole.

Pooky Pebbles

fond dew, glass chicken
will take the coffee down
take the brown frown's gown
and hang it on the peg head kid
whose snake-jowled bride payment
carves the wooden lantern

legless woman,
your prosthetic lantern thighs
warm my text

stick coal
in cotton sacks
stick tiny sticky
satans and santas
together in a fist

my big castle, Corpus psaloides
is an afro, a gleentrow, of mistletoe
and lecherous Victorian bird people

revealing the amber child skeletons
of words
as they gobble down
the iridescent soap beans


while sponge things
growing on their backs

emit such radical

symphanic porfumes

Wednesday, February 4, 2009

Leaping Shic (tiqu)

the insidious depth
of it grandeur
gives to rapt synaptigonia
picture nozzles

force of colour
and contour

infinitious religions
of sound bird tree texture

earth so big
as bindu
a candle

all svelte

a line


the pipe organ mother ship
orca tekne star

white crow machine cloak
the sacred scream


at the bottom of the well
a secret world

alone in

tangled green beards of arms
and unfettered lightness

floating things
things tethered

and emitting things

tawny throated world
so long ago

metal to mineral
lonesome to full

addict to edict

oh no!
guitars break.
(our selfweird audionce)

They All Doubt Me, But My Flesh Is Tinderer Still...

How fresh and clean could it possibly be
with the noose hanging
from its pipe-work knee?

Scads of long long thin druids have passed through this pipe
on the their way to the sea, the nous (ethereal for pleasure)
a leaf (more graspable than a quid in its role in musical combinations)

of the telling (His grashyng tuskes my tender grystels shore)
of the Cabbie's only wife:

"He just couldn't get things right, so I left him,
poor noose,

poor... (grateless loth)

How fresh! How delightful the hyacinth when it blooms
like gorilla doom (Spherical graticules are constructed in various ways.)

Orange approaching full speed in the hush

stamen some
methodic magic
of inbred mathematics
(graunching on the rocks)

pugged pride
lazy noose

oblivion all cozy
and capering purposively
(the harder grauwacke schists)...

Monday, February 2, 2009

The English Blog: Words in the News: Ladette

The English Blog: Words in the News: Ladette

Paces off, And Turns to Reveal Its Fatirical Epigram

toward its gabionage
of laryngeal make pattern
the trothed bedrabbling
paints of Bedouinism
would foster the returning

wisdom is sofa, or if one
imagines a special couch,
the brain hands love seat
sends the gorisound
to Big Mama Maybelle

whose eyes are blind to the
baroque golden starfish building
creeping by, on one hundred
thousand naked girl feet

nude carriages pop out
incessantly like flexible
waves of pearls

pearl tongue carriages
whose symmetric putti hornameants
lannything phannything

the baroque golden starfish building
made of a filo of gold leaf
and inflated by the constancy
of puttisong

a hundred million windows
open and close revealing
such mousse coiffures of
daubloons swooning to daublutes

the whole thing
like a balloon of golden lace
kept alive by trumpets

by balloon-hunchback knights
with trumpet sidepipes
and dorsal laser leisures
rapt in gestural seizures

Big Mama Maybelle
lannything phannything
you cellular description
not available


lanny ware

O lanarius polyzoa
I slip to ironing in my sofa foona
and call you

more zilla
than god
more odd
than dodgy

would that you had
mended the rope
with the braids of Bryony

while all of ye-I
were wished willfooned
in the white root
of Helmont mart
groping to ward
the three-hand

of its traffic
syzygy's arfod led
kindiger the socred
blue is towering
in its auster astrangements
its jonglier starrangements
conjoing all things
in the

no thing self

what wine would touch
as sweetly
as that epigram which told

that the soldiers of Xerxes
did lark and play
in Pasquil's mouth

Sunday, February 1, 2009

My Relationship to Poetry and / or Flarf (Traditionally).

Since it seems like some people in the greater poetry community think that I am somehow connected to Flarf, I would just like to clarify my relationship with that group. I am friendly with Kasey Mohammad. I think he is a rare and talented individual and mostly just a helluva nice guy. I sold him a T.V. once, and he has put my wife and I up for a night on a trip we had. Now truth be told, in my mind, I'm not really a poet at all. I am a 'word drawer'.. I don't know all that much about poetry, nor do I care to really, because I already a very complex natural philosophy dealing with signs generally. If anything I would consider myself a sort of Cyber-Semiotics Folk Clown. The poetry community was an easy target for many of my experiments because they are much more visible and communicative than the art community, and much more involved with words. I find the relationship between traditional conceptions of line-drawing and writing to be an IRRESISTABLE place to set up shop as an artist/clown. Now this isn't to say I have been misleading everyone, but I've never really thought I had much of a chance to be considered as an actual poet. Some of the themes I have tried to employ (secretly or cryptically) are "ARTISTS VERSUS POETS" the sub-theme being "POETS ARE PUSSIES", and "I AM A TOUGH ARTIST".. This is patently just a dumb surface structure through which all kinds of strange artificial hijinx can come into play, and the idea of style or contour in drawing as translating into things like 'voice'.. I have also gotten into 'thinking of myself as a poet' while not really being one. The things that excite poets do not excite me, and this is why I know I am not a poet. A poet is not necessarily excited to learn that, say, "matter is poetry", because it's just another line, and not a particularly good one, but for me, there is an endless possibilism and also a way of worlding which makes things like that very interesting. My interest in the grotesque also has found an outlet in this nearly 15 long Internet performance. I have gotten published and translated into German, and lots of other stuff, which has been pretty neat for a guy who has had drug and alcohol and mental illness and just generally made a huge mess of things. Partof the performance however did work out very well, and that was for about 8 years 99 to 2007, I was able to make 30 dollars an hour writing poetry for 4 hours a day. I worked a 12 hour shift, but usually the last 4 hours nothing much happened, and so, Phaneronoemikon was born. That was a blog that was written on the job, in part, and was paid for by my company. I also was kept through 5 lay-offs during that time, so I wasn't slacking, and I was given a 12000 dollar bonus, which is like receiving a major literary prize. And in the logic of Phaneronoemikon, that is just what happened. Now due to mental illness I lost that job, and I am working a low-level labor job which is causing a lot of pain in my hands because of repetitive stress. I will probably only 'perform' on the weekends. And the whole Flarf thing? Well, somehow I was able to get on that list, but I'm not really as articulate as that crowd, and I think they have quite a different sensibility than my own. It was an interesting experience. I will always write, but I know if I ever go back to school, I will be an ART MAJOR, not a POETRY or CREATIVE WRITING person. The culture is just too different. I'm a painting lab kind of guy, or sculpture, but writing is cheap, and the materials are interesting, but in their flimsiness, and in their social cache' or lack thereof.. This whole 15 year period of my creative output has been fascinating for me. Alan Sondheim even got me into the TATE MODERN once, or so I was told.. I am grateful for the attention I have received, also for the foetal jellybeans which have been injected unto my eyebags made from old poet inscrutums...


The JB Weirdo.


flimsy Wattoo
for in Parthia
a foetus in a jar
was made a shoe

a tiny knight
in its shell

a tiny jellied night
whose moon

a furtive enplacement
would sleep under a kursi

and no jaw visible
no mind risible
from those times

but the jellied building
lives tomorrow
frog buddha yoking
all of Iran
to any part of Benjamin's

tracing any of the longer chains
back to the curtained hole

mafia long johns
pirate with an aquarium leg
to give jellied buddha
near the blowhole
of the smoke whale jenghiz

performed by smoke filled puppets
kanon (as if mita or copying a secret omen of peace)

her jellied baby is a lute-like instrument
or emblem

a jellied smoke emblem
whose three sacred nipples
have aureolas of dreaming feather propellors

like Jing-jizz
like jellied smoke nipple Jaguar

Ford Benjamin
opera mobile

Frog Buddha jelly lute of Tehran

Parthian butter lute foetus
laid in a jar
now become a shoe to kiss
with passionate love

pirate pit pull
whose face is a single
jellied nipple buddha lute emblem
puppet stage

All of Iran
is a jellied baby shoe

All of this emblem
a flimsy Wattoo
of hot waxy sexing

a Parthian desire
lives like a shoe
in a Coptic jelly jar
which is a puppet head

a nipple helmeant

its jellied buddha rectum
passed forth an eyeball lute
a single jelly face

I ran.

Mangled High Kuku 2

In wafers we trust
(tiny nipples)

looking after granny
she's sweeping under
the microscope again

In The Dream (A Mangled Haiku) became a REALITY TV SHOE

In a reality TV
shoe called
some kids in a car

Jennifer, Scott, Kara, Lanny
get abducted on their way
to 'smoke lemons'

this causes sleep
upon waking
in the Marriot Freeway Center La Quinta Inn
a supermodel who works for GEICO
came out
in her knitted GEICO MATRIX sweater duster jacket
and told us about

I was thinking I was trapped
in a new construction area
but just freakishly
I started singing a beautiful
Hawaiian sounding song

and all the red scotch tape mummies
the color drained out

Jennifer was the owner
of a tire store.

mangled high kuku 1


OAF van
is the law
the red amen
a pmangle was is
to find a co-hike from
a fro eon's den of maw oil oleo
this rude fline or yen tolled abbot
by a coma occuring to cure
svelte sea baby with manta ray
breast plate

More About the Holy Crabs

Barking with fish
clue kopf (clopf)
sky (biggy smalls)

an oppossum unrolls
its scroll tail tagger
like Booger Rock Hudson

in a little speed boat
being a dick
to the mechanics

Barking with fish
barking with
'prosthetic value'

light loo
light tool
a toilet
made of toy letters
retelling themselves

the vegetable geode
reveals its gills
of tines

no time for safety
no tisk
for the kissing bandit

a monk
stumbles into destiny
half dead
half frozen
receives the emblem of

lands drunk in a ditch
("all boogered up")
meets an artist
old or whatever
and picks up
a nice bacon and eggs

middle of the night
middle of the ages

barking with fish
shifting eyes
like krabs