A.N.T.

so just after the waitress
had pointed to the high sign
over the opening into the kitchen
we changed and were expected to
the sign said something inane like
'o what an ant we have in man' or
'man your ants' of which we were any
and expected to

to translate importantly
the contours of the golden idol
into language
and the idol was following us
and we it (and the fetish of our wits was a fit)
the waitress first held up the
ant black frame
so that it went all around
the molten star-shaped head
we noticed the slack oozing cheeks
melted cheese and gold made one
we noticed the long curved tubular nose
as if an owl and a golden sausage had conspired somehow
to say "penis-faced aurum" and yet the nose stood out
less as a gnomon of pure vulgarity or over-determination
a "never why but always who" feeling
and more as the handle for an unlikely tea cup
and the chin was patently invisible
it was there somewhere but optically
it had no contour
whatsoever

the eyes were enormous rubies
but somehow dull
the gold finding its way in from the back
in capillaries
the eyes seemed messy and ruined
you imagined these seeing you
much in the same way that a Klerksdorp sphere might
or a follower of the Klerksdorp spheres in short
it made one feel that the whole world was a ruin

(sign-monde-fraud)
like watching sergei eisenstein put on his pants in the morning

one lovely lady worker stood up finally
(joey heatherton) and began to bark
as the waitress moved the frame:
"the rest is all cobwebs, piles of trinkets, and jewelry"

another man scribbling: "we are its genitals"

joey: "we are its generative ornamentalia"

that's when i noticed james spader was with us
he was writing in a little notebook
it was a list:

fake phoenician
apollonian
ant buddha
pirate
'trap-idol'
lecher-hermit-idol-economy

james spader is wearing
john lennon glasses
with red lenses

then the waitress
just simply points
at the bloody murdered hermit
laid out across the floor
before the idol
rags for clothes
long claw like nails
and then the waitress opens her mouth
and makes a sound like a jammed wench

multiple tenses

so that we all stop taking notes
for our idol
another waitress comes carrying what looks
like an ordinary milk carton except a little larger
she stands it carefully on the old pirate's
antique chest
and opens it like a wardrode

inside is a lovely nude tony lady
all made of spoiled milk curd
like she's taking a shower in the sunshine
james spader's lenses suddenly turn green

i finally finish my own notes so that
in my own retelling of the idol's tale
the same idol is enormous
and sits glowering over a labyrinth
filled with gasoline
"gasoline beetles"
men and women in hazard suits with breathing
apparatus are coming in boats through canals
but the ants are waiting for them with torches
along the ornamental phoenician path

to the garden
where the little restaurant sits

what is more elegant
than an autonomous geometric form
which is never really independent from geometry
but still
most of philosophy goes out
within an abstract parlor

parlay then
with this
G

aim, aimée
it is very elegant to see the puppet
the golden idol
as it makes its sad way
around the groove in the sphere
declaring 'i make the groove'
'god(s) make(s) this groove'
aliens make this groove

i scribble it in my notebook again

actor
network
theory


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