Monday, October 31, 2011

I am the Builder!

Emile Gauguin.
You are Burgess Meredith
smoking a cigarette
after having failed
to a build a bridge
between Tahiti
and Moorea.
With a flower
behind your ear
you go fishing.
Your hair is white.
Your skin is brown.
Now you will paint
a picture of dragonfly
sunglasses. Now you will
read Henry Miller's
lesser known works
in a beach comber's

Maître Frenhofer

You are the unknown masterpiece,
lone planet signalling how?

[wave fire alliance]

Flies buzz
round an ivory rhyton
their green metallic bodies
rendering them knights errant
in a Pas d'armes, but
these flies buzz
round a hollow mishapen


Cinderella was beautiful, as
was Gilette, and a bit of a trouble-maker,
but what fetish could revoke
the joke that the foot
was not a symbol
of the feat
in its single?

The noisy bell.
The fairy tale.
apo tes rhyseos

[In other words]

The moral was not madness,
but blindness...

Friday, October 28, 2011

Pliny the Elder and Sr–Nd isotopes

An Unknown Beast Glimpsed By the Light of a Paper Lantern

do as thou pleasure wilt
for today we are
as fragrant herbs
bolting in tides
to the silent meadow

tier upon tier
amorous the black ear / loam
how cool the shade

wild branches
reaching up if form
itself were
ecstasy foreborne
as agony the knot
of ornament
in the dance
of organization
with its own

fay allure
and risible riffling
what pocket steel can
or will if
laurel launch not
in night
these trails
of paper lanterns
down into root-like
river canyons

Thursday, October 27, 2011

Figure 1-1



             ,,-'                      `-.._
          ,-'             ___...            `-._
        ,'           _,-''      ``-._           ``.
      _/         ,.-'                `.            `.
     ,'        ,/                     |              \
    /         |,'                      |              \.
   ,           \b_                     |               `.
   |             :|                    |                '|
   |          _.'                     ,'                 |
   |         <[                     _/                    |
   \           \_                 ,'                      |
    |            `..           _,'                        |
    \               `\.      _/'                         /
     \    ,'''"\      |     /                           /
      \   |    J|    /     .'                          |
       \   `''''  ,-'      |       _o-Y.b              |
        `-._____.-         |       |  '  `.             \
                           \      |       |             `.
                            |     |       /     ,b=-..    `.
         _.---- .           '.      ._,.-'    ,''     \     \
       ,']Pb|   `.           __               |        |     |
       | |  ]|   |         ,'  `.             \        |     |
       | `.,'   ,'        /      \             `.     ,'     |
        `.     |          |       `.            '`-.,'      ,'
        ,|      \_         \        `.                    _/
        /        '`"._      `.        `-._            _.-'
        |     d..     \       `--._       `----...--''
        |    |   \     ,...        `-.._
        `.   \   ,|   |'   \b           ``-.b_
          \.  `-''  _/       `-...__         '\
           '`----'''                `'''------'



Euphemdru Den Inken Barbari Arb, Haln G'nob...

now restored to the old
discord, as promise
within madness, violence
lives within elegance, as
grace and grave are so hinged
in their near reflection
on the attitude of a curve, and griffcrod
the happenstance of small

so then, as design in disaster,
does the slave exist, and
as entry room , and exit
in the building plan
of the master, but what zeehillinought
single image can be grasped
when the total form performing
the isolation hides beneathe
all framing?

ilwehanyo muwuhela
sovanbiye' luhugulu layom helu
illu nay shaumbaud

Wednesday, October 26, 2011

Mauvaise Ting

Green Mehari

Maintenant Ting a posé à côté de moi, et il brille comme une épitaphe de brouillard vert de gris. C'est horrible pour lui aussi, et ce qu'est un ami, il a été. Il n'est pas nécessaire de visiter le mont Vaea, pour l'esprit, le diablotin, qui y réside, réside dans cette bouteille aussi.

Green Mehari

"Ce n'est pas une traduction, mais une présentation de l'impulsion que la ligne".

Tuesday, October 25, 2011

Faulty Pronoun Reference

Heed shed ice.
Oui, the eau de cologne.

I do not see them.
They are invisible.

Hide shedu eyes.
We shall never touch
the heavy soft globular instruments
which once apprehended
a golden age.

The eerie world of the ancient dam
and the inhabitants that built it, and the
reservoir carved from solid rock.


For days we climbed upwards
inside the perfumed beard, until finally
the air became colder, and we found
soldiers, dead in ice coccoons, their
faces like ciphers, each a faulty pronoun

He did this.
She did this.
They did this.
I did this.
We did this.

It did this.

We watched their bodies crumble
as they tumbled into the chasm
of curly locks below.

Then, we continued on,
ascending magnificent heights,
strange perfume in our nostrils!

Brain Amblurgist!

A New Economic Psyche

kun terse
or eastern
egg knuckles

spoorkenyo mio mito
spod yung boggit

javerillium fit tiflim mut uhulu
twong begang dero k'dit
dero tewaro
dero ombrillio pee fy drole
dun amnobtilloon y grill hobbinkrox
foose bit stangki nooscom fodgilene

Ezra Gauguin
Kamerehareha Quid

use a bird's head
little red riding anvil

Pundit riding lupine ass
Ass cherry pundit pandit flagellum motor oil

lumpy mouse channel mercury
to save the bubble boy accordion space

Golden Knight to Enter Tropicalia
Mirrored Golden Knight with Obsidian Anubis Bot underbody
to Enter Tropicalia after exiting the obsidian jungle pyramid

a psi-chao-analytic brevity
of the cruel optimism

a real hand invisibled
by familiar narratives
about the pathological

Monday, October 24, 2011

Free Cake For Salon Columns

Wrigley's famous melting sphinx-squid
I shouted Gombula
and its teeth were gum cakes
propping up windows
through which the wounded elite were led
by their etron cameosouls

deploys the metal storm kite
and little bocky is strapped in
peering out of the gondola
pink fizzy cola extras
doodling in their cellpomes

the temple long lyre shaft
the shaft bell pony
the radial shaft for circular lyre
the aeolian elevator head
the lyre head helicoptor bell

suave backflip in crutches
solvent sinking quick sand

beer chowder detective
corn gun
for opera to jade armor

the white jade armor
is 17 meters tall
and is the only audience

muscular lines
detribe the innocent
legionaire body bilders

Winnebagel Cave insert For Macedonian Dingbot Emperor

mask strudel

caterpillar coma studs
to harvest young fung blu
from literal beet foetus envelope

blue rox (seed)
in deep maroon (meet-earth-existence-fruits)

Alexander says
to nude witch baby epaulet phones'
tabular gracchi hin-dex
vox populi loti tu beni buto azir
von hyliguh-phonologohugu

a baby with pneumatic skull bladder
begins rising to the surface
it stops when the tether to its heavy metal
price tag
reaches full extension

soon the ceiling
with may fly mud splat
will be all the quid
in economic absalom

Finnigan's Faulkner
is CV Clown's culo,
thermos brand thunderware
and both cleem the cargo onto state will.

Alexander Hegelbean!
Target the bombing in alignment
with the world’s shopping!

Sphere Frame: Imperial Colony Repast

how heavy the happiness
dental plaster
sturm could bang
and olafsson could thither

these shepherds
have moved into a
cube like setting

yokahama dental witch
breaking neutrina wind hand ablloon
to glory

hovering candle flange
strange mold of upper pallette
john quill
pink wax landscape witch
or candle lighting its own end
for circle

leonardo di caprio
manages elimination
of real choice

the random
and international pi
weeps figures of the subject

Dudley Andrew

Reyner Banham

James J. Gibson

Space Hick Jamboree.

Autumn rhythm.
Pollock eating Benton's
Hat. Boob-wah-zee.

Wu Daozi had gone further
and painted a door
on the side of a mountain.

Lonely Burl Ives sings of
Jesus, but I think of Sir Lawrence
Alma-Tadema painting Titus' triumph.

Then, Autumnous.
Lounging in the tepidarium.
Corncob pipe stuck in the catfish's


Sunday, October 23, 2011

Maniac Ball Shade. Dark Folio Ting.

sulphorworts succory~

que bien merece besos de espuma
la concha nácar, nido de amor

in my white and light nacelle
Crossing the blue waves of the lake

farman, pusher, lightning
when drug thick ringlets push out from the squirrel's hole
the burst of love between you

us, oui
when the snake that lives inside the snake
gives birth to a snake from its mouth
within its foam kiss, there is a spherical boat
Omak Newton bears the crushing rose,
the crimson armadillo-wrestling rose

/doodle blogue/ autosemantico ting

a slow boat whose structure is complex
though dumb like the mantel of a grasshopper

inside it you drift
leopard bottles sloshing in your neck holes
but when you touch this
roots, hybernia, pop bottles' grasshoppers
thick disquetions upon tangled fingers
your rapt quivering extortions of rhapsody
the orgasmix of recording the twins
who are criminals (twin leopard heads are connected by a pearl)
in the distant rooms of those secret clubs

only one strange door allows access
to the gekko (leopardon)
the 'via gekko' whose tale
is like Nemo in a lampshade

Nightshade Vonggole. subsanar.

It is the Titanic Virkoko
which didn't sink
and became a hotel
for annoying rich people
setting out to continue their beautiful lives
against the assinine backdrop
of all these callous footed natives
shinnying espee
the hog-balled tropic trees
for mimi wash and chukchu mumbo:

en mi barquilla blanca y ligera
Cruzar los ondas del lago azul

Mientras los remos corten las olas
Alzando triste, lugubre son

Who was the devil-footed Nero
among the odd and shambling gnostic bulldog people?

Zoot Soot Tooth Screw.
History will screw me. That's certain.
But you will be screwed too...

Saturday, October 22, 2011

Always Build, Never Destroy

The picture leans out toward the land
held from behind by cables attached along the perimeter
of a disk which is scheduled to turn.

The hinge along the bottom edge of the picture
is submerged in heavily crystalline fists.

In the center of the picture a nude man stands
holding a grey table tennis paddle. The picture is not
of this man, rather, a real man stands at an improbable
angle to the earth upon the surface of the picture.

In the distance there is a hovering plane, whose surface
is bisected by a single laser line.

Green line.

Friday, October 21, 2011

Chan Vu, Bigger Than Code (and COming)

annoyance, he continued to tug
at the trunk till it yielded to his efforts.

A burst of wind and thunder followed,
and the hawks and vultures flew screaming away.

But these only gave place to a new foe;
for from the hole made by tearing up the tree

issued a furious serpent, and, darting at
Mandricardo, wound herself about his limbs

with a strain that almost crushed him. Fortune,
however, again stood his friend, for, writhing

under the folds of the monster, he fell backwards
into the hole, and from Orlando, and thus complete

the conquest of Hector's arms.

Mandricardo, having completed his story,
now turned to Rogero, and proposed that

arms should decide which of the two
was most worthy to bear the symbol of the Trojan knight.
President Laurent Gbagbo

God bless you

By the aid of his subservient demons
he reared a castle on an inaccessible height,
in the Pyrenean mountains, and to make it an
elf magnificent millennium.

Tell the truth, and so puzzle and confound your adversaries.
You teach your daughters the diameters of the planets
and wonder when you are done that they do not delight in your company.

Suppose the world were only one of God's jokes,
 would you work any the less to make it a good joke instead of a bad one?
Never contend with a man who has nothing to lose.
I have read your book and much like it.
To listen, by the sputtering, smoking fire:

"Now it's my turn to sing!"

And beyond, the same sound of bees
That only you and I can know. Les deux
The snowflakes are swirling, blotting out
Traces of those deep cuts lie thickly upon
Point, after all, when finally one reaches

The earth beneath his feet, in its dark cape,
His sightless eyes horribly watch the air;
The bees are buzzing,
Event, the end of the painted road ends up
Dismal, endless plain—
Yes. The obvious
This perfection, this absence.

RAGNARROK (raging flame goon)

Goon Titian to make an appearance!
inside the sunk flat...

Raging Negotiator Caldari Vortex Research Institute
Originally by: Raging Negotiator.
did a good'n just flame another goon? Shocked

Eric Nystrom stripped off his
force hendu GRAMS: Crackling flames,
fire brigade bell, steam

Finally I will have Titian Oxygeddon attack
raging flame sprite & two Hydrogeddons will attack
the green haired Venetian goon, ending my turn.” Said Sinko
Sunko Sanka

Burn Baby Burn Something,Something Inferno‎
Shocked ... Art House Goon ... Peter is an overweight
homosexual with a wry wit and a subtle lisp; Raymond
is a raging homophone riddled with affexual vepression and a
Dragon Orb Mirage and Dragon Orb Flame sale

Thumbnail 0:38s ... Waka Flocka Flame
little bitch on cod
GOO Goon-chung
I need to get back to the embassy
Urban Dictionary: elitest ass
we may now use Arcane Thesis

This culminated in a mass "ascention,"
where goons spent several days mimicking
and jacking off to Titian Oxygeddon's

about Gohan and Bojack
real money burns them up
fuck those punks
I sit back to watch the white hot molten eternal flame of silver
and gold, it's stupid, extreme, and goons come shooting out

vivid and ludilucredous
If mom's a bong
you're the smoke!

Image from Nathalie Djurberg at GL Strand

Ginger Root Donkey Khan

they react to so many
klazy klemurs
i could no longer unify my being
as social protocool

Jim Beam entering Snooky Young

these pieces
how do they determine me
Fichte Fica
like totally lazy growth habit
mostrosa deliciosa

i imagine 60 points in the space called
ipoianymni a sphere in one life
a disk in another

if word a is an erotic solid
and word b an eroticracy
then cabal babal torloon virble

i see explosions of hot mud drifting upwards
and sucked through replicating green doors
shuffled like cards by invincible

robotic totem pole torpedo
you gesticulate like a squirming turd;
Are you a word? A sword?

In the yard
telephone of brine
is milked
by the luminous blue starfish hands

molten steel nipple beards
how does point extrusion artifice
offer the fullest emotion
before its own window

all emotion is private
a contract
with contractees

we keep to ourselves
and our summerhouse

i really don't want to share the mood
of the music in the greenhouse
with anyone

or the day the crazy old man
showed up naked in the window
carrying a bush

how i locked him in
with the cave rabbits
who tend
the mother scorpion

his scream
is the sere white obelisk
whose deep bell-like tone
our far off President's shelter
with their womb-hand-green-houses
with squirming fingers
of robotic totem pole torpedos

image by Raymond Lemstra

Elf Squid Detraho Verschillen

lakṣati läk loki logonon
for hugu hylish hugri

ten proto hungry
hung wry
hang writing

fodio folio
lakṣati hugu hung

ten protocol disaster
dumari bineshiinh shūfú
mogio umami foufoune

mogo hugu laks hotty
hog rogue air mitt sàbhaladh

ten flog hogo dunmi
fugaste by adumbrabam
on miccaçaioli's frapporsche'

dwog venor virnogulars
groot tööriistakomplekt enganar
maid sline houngat

hugu voglio bon vis mitor
foreslå restringo oulaberi

ten bondo ficasto jeri vene
daobo smeme lekana katana tizona

Thursday, October 20, 2011

David Hinton's Mencius

It's simple: To say anything about the nature of things, you must attend to the facts, facts in their original form. The trouble with knowledge is that it keeps chiseling things away. If intellectuals were like Yü draining flood-water into the sea, there'd be nothing wrong with knowing. Yü succeeded by letting water have its way, and if intellectuals just let things have their way, knowing would be great indeed. Heaven is high and the stars distant~ but if you attend to the facts, you can calculate solstice for a thousand years without ever leaving your seat.

The line mentioning 'intellectuals' seems to remind me of Louis Aragon's wry commentary on engagement (engage') with his parable about Goethe and Kant:

When Kant heard the news of revolution, he interrupted his walk. Goethe continued his. How pretentious of them both!

But looking further, I find what is intriguing is the consistency of ambulatory meditation, ie, the Schitzo's stroll*. Syntaxis as the true 'heartland' of the unspoken meaning, the root of Zen so to speak. In Syntaxis is already the one thing (singularity) and the ten-thousand things (complexity).. Here is a nice poem from Hinton's Meng Hao-jan to illustrate though there are many others:

And such a wonderful nod to the grotesque, both in its secret meaning, and in its popular form combined.
Look at the line:

First I hear you're resting at the Chang River,
Now I hear you're among Ta'i Mountain's wandering

dead. There's a pond here still tinged with ink,
but Autumn's tumbled out of mountain clouds,

Is T'eng among ghosts, or Zombis?
Is T'eng in a battle zone among the wounded?
Is T'eng himself dead? Mountain's what?
Trails? Body? This is a great way to concretely link
a sort of formal Zen (Chan) technique to a theory
of the grotesque. Is writing dead? What is a voice
absent its Master? Is 'an empty home' writing itself?

And then there is this strange idea, or perhaps just
timely of a pond tinged with ink. Would the washing of an
inking stone leave some visible residue, or is this a conflation
or integration of thought and nature? This idea of tumbling
gives us a clue.  "Tumbling as a word is specifically non-specific."

Same abstractional class as Syntaxis.

Another theme which may be rendered part of the cathexus of the grotesque / Zen, is monstrosity as naturalness, or rather, mutation is part of an unjudging continuum coterminous with nature:

Yü succeeded by letting water have its way, and if intellectuals just let things have their way, knowing would be great indeed.

This is also echoed in a poem by Meng Hao-jan:

Months and Years perfect old pines here.
Wind and frost keep bitter bamboo sparse.

Constant wind usually bends and twists trees in places like he is describing. It makes of them
strange bent monsters, but to an artistic temperament, in the Tang, there is a a deep calligraphic identification
at the level of the Chinese line and writing. Nature itself is a kind of writing, and writing a kind of evocation of nature. Images in nature seem to have a specific mood in Chinese poetry, and this tradition continues on for over a thousand years entering the Asian tradition all over the place. Japanese poetry expresses the moods of nature as an identification of human identity with that of nature. etc..

This is really a deeply bridging node for me

You have syntaxis, the grotesque, but also aesthetics, a way of linking Taoist-Chan-and Wabi-Sabi Aesthetics to a sense of sustainability and ecology. Harshness as an aesthetic agency.

Some things are perfected in this place, some problematic things are kept from flourishing..

And then there's the oddity of Mencius basically prefiguring the Mechanistic so-called "Western" world view:

Heaven is high and the stars distant— but if you attend to the facts, you can calculate solstice for a thousand years without ever leaving your seat.

Here is the bland scientific determinism the West has been saddled with for hundreds of years, but in the China of Mencius, it was a spiritual revolution!

Mechanistic determinism is Enlightenment! Love it!
West and East united forever in mystified determinism..

*And I would also like to note this surface connective between Schizze (Sketch) and Schitzo..
Perfect node for connecting Irronism and Syntaxis.

Theory Beyond the Codes @CTheory

CTheory Interview: This Mysterious 'This'

Joe Milutis in conversation with Eugene Thacker

Wednesday, October 19, 2011

The Lyric Tuskings

eco mudemco
gods break in the azure air
Richard Hamilton
to hoard and herm
these nodules of the eternal index
Ezra Velocidad

each winged grey banana of ontologos
a sufi in woolen tornados
the funnelling:

cách in fogur
et nícon·ḟitir
cid as·beir

as they say
as the wavy
years like hooqla
through head boned

selaya selata
Shel la Jaya
Quid dico?

pykälä squids whose mantel
are of smooth faced die
its splitting eating
the loathsome poetry voice
was the trying on of numbers
by laces in their honroes

the city a liver
as the wavy green silver limning
was a cold liver
of washable salutations
mermaids like crooked galleons
of a hundred million parts
now they say the foam of rooms
is subsiding

winter's cedars are tuned ince die snout
its purple ivy snouth the reckoning
burls for sale in roadside sawmills
russian river
snake river ukiah
we came in van to
a girl of San Diego
took me in her mouth
as dusk was made crescendo
while I lay on a stump
bigger than a family's table
El Cid enters Bablieca

Oh Suckling Bibliocracy!
their sacred hong powdery
hair maid to stand
and born in 1967
a quid to plural kids

The inherent nature of something.
Five squid on a sandwich? You're having a laugh!

pound, punt, euro
snicker, sov, in
Etymology, a 3rd Variant of cud:

Duke (monk)
Pedro El Grande gave it
its name

Peggy Sue (preggy sous)
Babieca! (stupid!)

but the sweet water
glazes the upturned nipple
as poor Joe
has remarked

For I am El Quid
eloqum cum tormento
coinage by the werthquake

the symbolic order
is like a weird murder
and we make love in it
as falcon weasels
tricking out our jawbones
in solar genie moths

barbarian grandeur

the rustic camp
of mystery
the shag
of machinic herald....


small pony
south japan
korean shamaness
no ears on uncle
and out go the brains

where leaves like hot sparks
from the wedding
to the bed remain

not at that orthodox cave
but in a grotto
by the sea
in weird blue light
they see me

I am the singing shadow
by the twisting rock
I am the slithering patina
the monk in socks

mad on the trail
or drunk
with sobbing lichen forts


 H          H
 H          H
 H          H
 H          H
 H          H
 H          H
 H          H


stalagmite armor projectile
housing iridescent uni oni

obsidian bleak
their perfection
was a stump's

lily pad
with Money, Money

Argent Tool

and big brass floppy lips
like lava
from a cracked bone

4 dogs invaginated
to a single head

O couch tetraskreeeeee-li-ants

pu erh
from an isle
with a single tree

Li Har-Vie Oz Walled


the crook in the book
like the crack on the jug

glaze or craze

a kitten
has a mud-cube mohawk

where the gushing was tied
in a dried bow
and forced into the navel

The Fox Fingers a Goose.

Calvinist nite lite odors
flying tridents wallpaper in
puffpaint relief

babyheads whispering horns
in and out of dual blowholes

rubber brains stacked inside
hollow glass columns
gold dust flows past

bear sees pear
nees erem
sere M

a wild cherry to
change the object itself
image music text
in Rome this geste
is cronicled

in her cule
and h'is

the cleanness of clerks

Frame Linguor

osculum hyppyset
your phane pou
little foo ten

tenebrium's berkelium
take or hold up in both hands
the nagging nagas

phone Eunice to Oncle
Oncle Hey-See
take hole long leg
to hole

assculum hippy set
hippy touching fingertips
to amputato

mark brevity

what twan builds up
opana tilts down
inculcating toroid pillow brassier

careful kuacha


thorned prawn crown
reacts to writhing drain

Tuesday, October 18, 2011

Mirrored Cubist Panther Beast (Tollroad Wanderlust)

the crystal monkey-cocoon-doorknob
kep' spinnin' and spinnin'
owling my eyes' atrancement further
until French doors in my throat
a lumpy iridescent witch head came out then
with something jumbly flowing under the skin
on the left side

like rainbow fish-scaled cellulite
its surface flexed and shifted
but the schitzopodal eye-penises
remained rigid

knock knock
said fecund fence

glottal hey-zeus sea urchin halo

the naked being shimmered
its skin covered in a swarm of
hyper-illuminated gekko babies

with ultramarine longhouse

ultramarine balloon cigar
glottal French door owling
crystal monkey-cocoon doorknob head

he likes sweet apples

Monday, October 17, 2011

Negative Remains of "Line"

Annoying and Impoverished
the species lingered on for a bit longer
but was not exactly worth the effort

the massive social expenditures excited no one
corruption was how to put it
uninteresting ie the standard (normal)

the species itself seemed incapable of anything
but reruns

even the individuals who exalt
the individual seemed to have no stomach
for the more alchemical solutions
ie achieving escape velocity

barely muddy
consciousness continued on
as a sort of broken record

history like a hiccough
and Phanes

like a burning light in the sky
whose reality
as a sort of anti-divinity
no one could quite 'get'

when all it really meant

'slow organic engineering'

or "experimental breeding"

memics floundered
and died

and the only thing left
was bickering
and silence
every point is valid
and invalid

matter is always
a wheelchair for memics

idealism has been disproven
and one wonders
at how poignant

life itself as aphorism

earth is interesting
but ultimately
an 'objet cautionaire'

a tiny tale to illustrate
the conundrum of complexity
to the utopia
of nothingness  /


skinhead daruma duck approaches the azure magi
(quello che guazzabuglio deve leccare la carne luce per diventare)

Sunday, October 16, 2011

I Find Their Drawings Admirable.

Die Skizze ( ital. : schizzo ) ist der Versuch der Darstellung einer Idee , auch ein Entwurf , ein Konzept , ein erster Überblick. The term is used in different contexts. Der Begriff wird in unterschiedlichen Zusammenhängen benutzt.


that does not strive for univocity (university)

'this problematic cult of the ecstatic society'


fluid ivory
within the imaginal
or deep within the valley
of its books
mahogany gondola chair
for green leather
or maroonings

the ducking stool
vellum a relation
front or back
to decide

each hologram
placed before the jungle
in silence
the hands clasped
then laid palms up
and somewhere
in the library
a scene

the youth must grapple the snout
of the enormous dog
and hold it closed with both hands
wrap his or her legs around the raging torso
and fall

then tear into the neck of the beast
with the curved metal thorn worn at the end of the chin

is not
a fiction.

Saturday, October 15, 2011

My Private Political News.

I've been playing ping pong with a 49 year old Vietnamese man
at 4 in the morning, Monday through Friday, or at least 2-3 days
in there.  For awhile he was hitting it to my forehand so I could
practice my slam shots, then we both started working on hitting
our backhands as hard as possible. We need more good balls.
We both hate chasing the damn balls under the vending machines.
Lately, we've both been training a 22 year Senegalese man how
to play the game. Our first struggle was with his grip. He had yet
to stabilize his grip and would often find his fingers in the way
of the ball. Once we had his grip somewhat cured, we began
to train him in the watching of the small orange projectile. There
is always something meaningful going on at 4 in the morning.

Friday, October 14, 2011

Solid Rhombohedral City Survives Avalanche

black salt grain
in tweezer

red dracula tongue


Sloping Rails

tonite i would bury
its faded brown obvious

bai mu er
buy more air

each snake of medusa's head
has the sleepy loping wig
of snow fungus

and like kindling in a cup
there is frost worked over the blanket
iron chief and tony
are shaving by the aspens
and where the stream turns improbable

a huge ruddy baby
buried up to the neck
is singing
the horses nudging wet noses
at its enormous fuzzy ears

these tin beans
are compact
jet engines

Thursday, October 13, 2011

Hive Physics Torking Zoo Horns

Zap Kidget

how could he
have harpooned the head
of Jeff Kikoons
while standing on a sled?

S. Kilmore

you hate when
people make baby talk
about orangutangs
wearing tricornes
and ripping the skins
from banana android starlets
which spray sake'
and high pitched shakuhachi

tricornes decorated like cakes
gold buntings
golden cicadas
red transparent rubbies
like boodoo

take shrine of ruby boomerangs
take jimmy to green batter

if we love the territory
then gateway country islands
link protest to
"Theatre of Orgies and Mysteries"

human small
space large

gold coins of austria
need hippie farm house owners
with inflatable panta lawns

for giant crystal hive vehicles
and hair cocoons

what is sensitive?
what is full?

buttery nipple cameras
of Peter O'Toole
and the little people.

Romanesque Aliens.
Neck Togas.


fay dem dee
bitore's clee harneysid
nop dull wanna
oh bee

green in the suck
bald and white
for the clover of ashes
its groom
or watch
bicorne onna thromboid
pink vikar diabolik
cigarillo toward the xeroxing
filter laid in manger
of mangrove
eyeshadow its carnal repletion
chrome lip balloon hovering
steal this

they cannot destroy the monster
and pain tired is eating us all
and the pain tired
and the pain

i am running down
down hill
its dead omen
i own

high plateau
looking out
toward the empty

printing cartidge


green bee-suck

sudden harnesses
el ogo

just try the updated
blah blah interface

Some Thoughts on "Post-Pop Punk"

I'll be in a show at Cohn Drennan Contemporary Gallery here in Dallas, Texas starting November 19th called Post-Pop Punks, and strangely enough I've become sort of sensitived or magnetized to the possibilities of the thematic. I guess part of what I've been thinking about recently is Baudrillard's final book _The Agony of Power_ and his construction of the concept of hegemony, which in my understanding is sort of like post-human ideology in the sense that ideology has become post-social or post-humanist. Now, this way of speaking isn't going to clear things up, you have to read the book, and a lot of it is things we heard before, but more or less, you get the idea that "humans + their own abstraction = aporia" which is more or less Grotesque Theory 101, but, his description of "The Hegemony" makes me think of things like Clockwork Orange, and really, of a kind of "Pop-Apocalypticism". So I guess in a way, I am kind of looking at Pop being an analogue of democracy, and punk being the aporistic hegemony. We intuit, or discover by apperception, that say, Democracy is now the Post-Democractic hegemony, and he goes on to cloud this further with things like Convivial Deregulation, as if somehow, Baudrillard sees Orthodoxy as a kind of resistance. That's his kink. He plays his instrument. Anyway, something I saw recently, like today, kind of brought some of this thinking into focus for me, because I have made quite a bit of work very similiar to this.

At Sprueth Magers in Berlin, John Baldessari has a new show up which definitely has some kind of Post-Pop Vibe to it, but I'm going to stick some Baudrillard in here, and make an assertion as to why materially, these works represent something of this Pop-Apocalyptic Hegemony. I'll just assert it now, though it is pretty lame. Now think, Ecstasy of Communication combined with say 'printing technology'.. these are inkjet canvas prints slightly modified by painting. Check them out at Contemporary Art Daily.  In Art Historical terms, they aren't all that different from what JB. hey that's odd. Jean Baudrillard and John Baldessari have the same initials. weird. They aren't all that different from what John has always done, except, personally I like them better. Anyway. I would insert the Baudrillard bit, but it just doesn't sit well without reading into and out of it..

If interested in the _The Agony of Power_ at all check out the section called "Where Good Grows".. He more or less says we have entered into a final revolution which is in effect a nihilistic instrumentality, and that our own revolutionary praxis is to end the human, or some such. Rhetorical art. Instead of typing that stuff in,

I thought I would copy some stuff out of _The Jet Age Compendium: Paolozzi at Ambit_. This is from 1972

from a piece called _The unfilmed Scripts of Paolozzi_:

When the cuttlefish is brought to
light, touch would have had to be
carried by business -- and might
surely have been used to convey
feverishness as well.

When I think of a good, pure
rigid and as though ironclad;
when it is rarified, it hovers
weightless, incomplete, immobile.

the second body is garden magic;
but from the bamu to the Kerewa
area the stress is on the revela-
tion to boys and girls of the
secrets of adult sexual life.

Who then can teach me about the
logical foundations of mathematics?

They call me imitator, and in my
role as such I have made many dis-
coveries and copied out the most
dreadful inventions, phones as well.

And just to follow that up, something I thought was kind of sad and funny in a punk-pop-hegemonic way from Roberto Bolaño's _Tres_:

I dreamt I was fucking Carson McCullers in a dim-lit room in the Spring of 1981. and we both felt irrationally happy.

Well, he got the year exactly right I think on that one, and what is the object of contemplation in such an utterance? Is it the genre of melodrama? Is it what things we turned away from in the 80's, those of us who were 'of the 80's' in a manner of speaking. Only once in my life have I seen a person with a Raymond Pettibon tattoo, and the person I saw had the tattoo of the Pettibon image which was a crucified autopsy of a baby, and the caption which I don't know if the person had the caption, but the caption was something like, "I was a medical student at the time of my conversion.." The person with this tattoo was at a Black Flag show at a bar called _The Twilight Room_ where you could see things like men in suits but with mohawks, having martinis with Harley Davidson biker dudes. I saw a girl giving a blowjob in full view of everyone in a booth. Punk in the 80's was not a myth. It was real. Just like the 60's, only creepier, shittier, and absolutely fantastic.

Monday, October 10, 2011

Sunday, October 9, 2011

The blind gnawing is at least a hat!


between the planks
a primal originelle

a primal seen scene organelle
looka! looka!

lurks in the skin
of the cthontic friend
cthonic fiend

how like
a symbol
is a handshake.

Friday, October 7, 2011

Disco Brand Caverns Presents

Black velvet square
of crushed gallium arsenide
you are a small park
beside the grinding vortex
wheeling pregnant
in the fulgurous caverns

i imagine the small dark hound
ubiquitous tousik, tubbed mondial
that stares toward the pulsing
rhythmic windows
of the tornado

i imagine Gina
symmetric solar opening
whose afterlife could gimme
and whose floating
wot-el-jimmy and suspended
in pink gelatin medium to be
tended by yordling dwarves
in lavender latex gloves
and vinyl jerkins
splattered with eggy oils

Wednesday, October 5, 2011

A lustreless protrusive eye

Stares from the protozoic slime

At a perspective of Canaletto:

he was seized by the dancers, by whom he was dragged about and scourged with flowers till he fell into a swoon. When he began to revive one of the group approached him, and told him that his punishment was the consequence of his rebellion against that power before whom all things bend; that there was but one remedy to heal the wounds that had been vorlotramed; bedmuncialix...