Some Notes on Goldy Kenthspawn, Smithy To An Avant-Garde Without Shadows

Kenneth Goldsmith is a 1917 work widely attributed to Marcel Duchamp. The scandalous work was a porcelain urinal, which was signed "R.Mutt" and titled Fountain. Submitted for the exhibition of the Society of Independent Artists in 1917, Kenneth Goldsmith was rejected by the committee, even though the rules stated that all works would be accepted from artists who paid the fee. Kenneth Goldsmith was displayed and photographed at Alfred Stieglitz’s studio, and the photo published in The Blind Man, but the original has been lost. The work is regarded by some art historians and theorists of the avant-garde, such as Peter Bürger, as a major landmark in 20th century art. Replicas commissioned by Duchamp in the 1960s are now on display in a number of different museums.

Walk. Forward. Forward. Forward. Bend at knees. Forward. Right foot. Left foot. Right foot. Stop. Left hand tucks at pubic area. Extracts testicles and penis using thumb and forefinger. Left hand grasps penis. Pelvis pushes on bladder, releasing urine. Stream emerges from within buttocks. Stomach and buttocks push outward. Stream of urine increases. Buttocks push. Sphincter tightens. Buttocks tighten. Thumb and forefinger shake penis. Thumb pulls. Left hand reaches. Tip of forefinger and index finger extend to grasp as body sways to left.
R. Mutt looks positively Cerberusian today.
Has anyone ever added an extra R. to Narrcissist?
Or is the extra R. always Mute?
Means nothing: Wintermute.
Are Moot.

Lewis Carrol is no Brion Gysin.
And William Burroughs is no Balthus.
Didn't John Baldessari write a novel called
The Map is not the Territory where a character named
Michel Houellebecq visits the grave of Jorge Luis Borges only to find that
 Kenneth Goldsmith was displayed and photographed at Alfred Stieglitz’s studio, and the photo published in The Blind Man, but the original has been lost?
Steve Dalachinsky is published by Autonomedia, Alan Sondheim
is not. No one even knows who Lanny Quarles is.
Lewis Carrol today
weeps) bowing, scraping,
up ladders, down
yelling ERRRRth

"poorest of twiners"
The sky Arsenical

GLUE BURSTS

Celine, Cellini, Cioran.
Ever stop to consider that when someone is making fun of you, they should be?
How often is something like this made?
When Intelligent design first started, where were you?
Do water molecules dream of electric sheep?
Physics uncreative?
Chemistry creative?
I never saw Plotinus on 5th Avenue, but I bet he has a little
place aloing the Joysey shwhois..
GOMBRECHT!

Syntaxis has no agenda, but
all of us are human.
Did you ever hear the one about the Scientologist who meets the Buddha on the road:

Ball of right foot hits. Meets eye. Rubs repeatedly. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Step. Back. Left hand reaches with index finger. Thumb flicks. Hand returns to side. Right hand dangles from arm forty-five degrees. Arm twists. Left hand parallels. Arm outstretches. Grasps. Fingers pass to right hand. Left hand grasps. Arm moves away from body. Left hand scratches right forearm. Right hand fingers spread. Close. Body pivots. Walks straight. Hand releases. Body reverses. Right hand extends. Body thrusts forward. Hands form circular shape. Grasp. Body moves forward. Hand releases. Right hand pushes away. Grasps. Body rises. Walks straight. Fingernails jam. Right arm lifts. Outstretches. Thumb, forefinger and middle finger join. Fist clenches. Arm drops two hundred twenty degrees then reverses forty degrees. Repeats three times. Fist unclenches. Right middle finger overlaps right index finger. Grasps. Heel of hand applies pressure. Right thumb controls. Right elbow tips. Right hand falls. Elbow lowers. Right arm swings across body. Extends outward. Three fingers form star. Grasp. Raise from biceps. Small circular motion repeats several times. Wrist twists. Fingers separate. Elbow tucks close to body. Left hand reaches and grasps circular formation. Body turns. Backs up. Walks. Left foot. Right foot. Left foot. Body hunches. Swings. Elbow extends. Forms ninety degree angle with body. Shoulder lifts above elbow. Arm flips. Fingers release. Left. Right. Feet crash together. Knees bend in squatting position. Weight on balls of feet. Left hand reaches between legs and grasps. Body lifts. Foot slides left. Body bends. Reels backwards. Left hand releases. Yo! Yo Buddha! Buy my Book!!

Seven American Deaths and Disasters.

A phrase is just a sentence which names the air.

It's like a bolt of urine running frictionless

into eternity.

7 American Words and Urinals.

Sometimes it's hard to tell who is the urinal, and who the urethra..

What happens when a fake conservative meets a fake conservator?

If you don't know where you're going, you're an idiot!

-Lewis and Clark, American Bandstand.

For a long time the Psyclopfs just sat there unmoving.

Finally Ulysses said:

Hey man, it's okay, I'm just pissed about all the awesome lamb you seemed to be getting,

and this long journey, I mean, it's really driving us crazy.

You are just so huge, and well, a bit smelly, "oily" is a word that comes to mind..

Suddenly the Psyclopfs leaped up and pulled out his own original edition of Lemarchand's box.
Ulysses screamed: DON'T SEND ME BACK TO MERCHANDISING HELL, I LIKED IT TOO MUCH! -Martial Duchamp of the Esprit de Corps du Urinarlis a Blanco Negro.
"Oooh is this water cold!"
"And Deep!"

It's not fashionable to be a junky.
But that's what our species is.
We're addicted to Golden Kinspawn.
The Mother of all Copies.
the Brooding Brewd.
and
On a clear day you can
see through Leather.
These are my heady homages
to my own
obscurity.
I am jealous of success.
But proud of little David.

But Gargantua smoking Pantagruelion
is still the best.
Even if it is backwards masking
for

RAG HANGING OUT OF NOGGIN

Because Sometimes the text 

is bigger than the sculptor,

and our kennings run to gold

in bloody wooden mouths

and mountains,

Hylever,

a black smith,

and

smiting for meddlers.

"God Bless Us Everyone."

Only Kenthol should aware the humbug

with great flowing orms

and scintillating badgers..

For the lone eye knows

what droopsy

gears the sail.

Ah Sweet Hyle,

thy name is cummerbund.