Buck Hyderabad

Fux in flux
but no tux
no cigar
for bald nude
model of indecency

sam yogurt repair
sleep same nightly
on dare

enlarged flea helmet ability
chastened by sterile marquetry claims
on bona fide boner ledger

Tasty freeze dried pedal boat
you scrape the skin
but the flong duck floors
the gaping monocle
with mohair flipper gill lanterns
slapping gently
our snoring bladder art's
continuity
disorder

prodding curtains for the bag beast's return
a tedium
in dry
ecstatic
filtered
freak
fuzz

Crampot

paper triangle,
if you are a kite,
you have lifted a heavy iron
divan

on which the dahlia beast
reclines
mapping forkles

Gradus ad Parnassum

nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-

"Lado,
me jivix opayo,"
led Fux from
Il Transilvano
to the vampire of Venice

What is it to be naked?
A bag of snakes as species counterpoint?
javajjivae?

Look upon Niggatiko:

He has burnt his hands
by grasping a lump.

nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-
nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-nagga-bagga-


Tycho Brahe lets go
& reveals a sacred absence,
and reaching out
forms the absence


like a burnt hand
grasping a lump


nasal vagina owl cross-talk
Athena hambone century
or gold-flake doggy-door celestinozzy


Isotope yammerbilly

Roman Polanski's Morning

They are looney tunes, poetry,
a frame of Picasso's blue period
etched in azure glass and erected
in the lobby of a restaurant, edge-lit,
on a lonely Styrian isle, hedge-light to
Praha-hula-luna abh habna bhuna
nabh alha muhahl una labh lihuni
nihalbh bini bif hanalbh uhahalbhna bihabh
funi dufalfna

black tulip
canary island wanderer
memory loss
cannon
a good salad
beneath a spreading tree
and bazouki

chilled
chilled
chilly

preaching daybreak
to the night
and darkness at noon

lemons command the room
their wrinkled yellow eye-lids
a home to simple sugar igloos

snakes which end in thumbs
hold down a crystal disk

restaurant risk
our planktonic social bias
striata
Roman dump

FRAU LINE DOKTOR

he wakes the yang! (cold to you) [or young and high-formed]
and in the convertible, a string through the eye;
did you see her face? damaged, bewildened,
but you wanted to see her drive!
I'm a surfer. What happened?

I want to be a faun delirious
warp
day and night
Frau-line Doktor in Pickelhaube helmet
meet the ladies' jeweled ladder tracheotomy

Marquesa di Morphina!
he wakes the yang! (charming girl)
now they get excited.
very nice. (eyes down)

you're a sadist
beyond

these mollities
young on young
pickelhaube cupola train
glass spike train
"telegu"
they screw under morphine
the glass dome as the car moves along
"Thank you, you may go."

As this
thick
bream [AU]

head is removed
charcoal flowers up
the catastrophe about 9 foot tall
and about as wide
but only a single frame
a giant's head cooked to a cinder
then the Frau signalling along the beach
to the submarine.

Not as householders
our true and fevered "identity"

kit.
osteon.

arms folded shallowly
looking down into clay pit crucible
dog thrashing

and dying from the gas
it enters
through our lesbian skin

of lies.
you. (furred gold)

like young penises,
the french
in their wavy armaments
learn to build frescoes

and you wait
for her shaking hands
to skin pop
the red denouement
of rubber devil summers

odd alpine interface with the dead
or beyond

sadism
awakens
in its shoes

i have a feeling
like a sheep doctor

Oh, you can out-stare me.

DUMB! he yelps
from the biplane, then
OW! as it crashes

Get down!
(or my caddy will see us)
baby deer carrying twin lyres
in a ssaddlle like harness

We Prussian summers
vicious
adamantine wolverine skeletons
frisk
frisk
frisket

|Paternal History|

Cleopatra, whose snake
has the head of a metal grasshopper
diamond dorsal feathers
and eyes of ovalbumen

FRAU LINE DOKTOR!

Give them both an enema of the high court
waking life soldered in silver mud
to the viral candelabra
of many frozen
and terminated races

they live here only as records
and nobody studies their ways anymore
they are the outcasts of outcasts

[only gunfire can be heard]

abandoned kittens
shoe horn vivi secting earth worm
the squirming moments before plassonity

abso
lute (lewd)
faith

That's it.
Back to you, 
General Romanoff.


HYLE!


sick molecule magic
of undertow now practiced


the Baux tool furts
to many complexion


There are two planes of junction which unite, 
crossing each other, as in the mineral named 


grinatite
or opera-facies
ala
Din-Odd-Di-Lauthernity
Non abo Vikriti
Calc
(cover your head! your eyes!)
opening the mouth to
rua ruah
roo


mubboon! mubboon!


dark grunes
sporting hagrevilleas
with scarlet eyra


Felis yagouaroundi
all the year round
in a train-like-throne
of soundings

The Tanguy Piece Now...

The Ajivikas

Looking for google books by A.L. Basham, found this wonderful text on a lost Indian religion
whose founder has had many odd stories told about him. At one point, Basham relates
that the character of the founder had been reduced by the Jains and other historians to that
of a surly clown. Just seemed like a good line:

History had made of me a surly clown, and then I was forgotten... 
Ah, Gosala, the chao must chew its cud..

Tame Lyric

kaffa the green head
for the manitude folds to aten
or nuas

kaffa nuance kebir
for kopfin e
or finey tu
this ^

in priming the temble down
feathered bauble
the bauble expands
enjoins the royalry
and depends for icon
in singing heats distend
abandon

efreet twinned
or glass frit ch'olden
glitch sign raised
the golden calf's bisected mold hold
they thin the capes
and dress the brandished snaky

cliche' now rumbled out
a torrent foreshortened
to antic gas

the interested plane
where meanings
tease out shammy after shammy
the green head's rod
given E to mispoil:

Through decibel windows


Thatched rhumours surfuse

Light’s cannibal cousin

Indexing long indistinguishable

Pauses before the aftermath’s

Strange throne

Puffed black cotton cup for

Cold heavy coal

Albino filament’s simple

Inward expanse

The replicating bow string’s

Contour ear

On sting

Or pushed without warning

Into rushing pages

Mixed by immense turbines

Negative Resist

Downy Mutella, if we see cool Spring days atop
extruded butter walls, if we see Francisco Goya
a hominy to the terminus of carnival, crystal prison they made
for signals in gnostic arsenide, or gallic gallium gone to gallant ends
all round the probe, Telluride in painting, then, then, Conestoga again,
the articulating Herpetological Vexillology, to wit, "Do not tread on me..",
but writ as a machine, writ as a prairie train, hauling freak cactus
to libertarian laboratories, or whatever, rasa bona hyla phona,
cybernetic vexatives upon the imperium of the hand, triode nodolondo
for the sussurum of brimming plumb, the dumb finality of orthogonal
logophthalium, most live things a plus to themselves but not much
to others, or all, and neither much all told, the root of knowledge's
own sigh, the sigh of self silly ruin, and the desired oblivion, or walk
anywhere aling a long line at XCM> There were only bad choices.

Downy Motilla,
cotton air shirt thing

too huge
the giant rotten skull
too strange the incessant
soldiering surface

Short History
of Existentialism

Wretching return
gag reflex

Gog reflux

Pedal yawn.


 

Pelican Friends by Corporal Robot Lips

something sent from J.D. Nelson

Terrible Wad To Tow The Lessening Sink

possible construction of wing
among the lines of the odd creature
sphinx for grizzled chin no
box-jawed lantern no
deer

delicately the lines flash by
the unseen etheric maybe
and if the cup
of the central knot is lifted

central shaft antenna
caduceus tent inflation
cirque du cnc
argent  sphinx
signals to charactery

There is Peace Among The Tragic Decibels

Perry
Lake
Como

whose Frankenstate forgot
the slippers
the candle
the

hat
cone
and tassle

but here is the bat
in the belfry-like school
all the henry moore chalkboards
rogering

to the caress of soft terrycloth
glove erasers
nature or nurture
erasure rascible crucible for
monkey hole up in a Laredo canteen

Doctor Albiogenesis
doing wikiscratch
the leaks do to ESD

Extra-Stoopid-Dischstarge
Noggin-Naga do Rumba "headlines"
alfa dog I got hymnoroids now

let them be the silent defiant snow forever
while I'm trapped in Princess Saniflush's
ZUZU

just set up the sticky-bling launchers

A wooly mammoth
with a gold toof

Aubergyne Tesla

starts out across a frozen tundra
aluminum comb plates reasoning
snowflake
brand
air shocks

Arcimboldo paints Zeus
as a legal Lord's felled still-life pheasant haul
whose head, though, is the one
single inside out geode
discovered on the property
with its own self-determining
powersource

In Vienna
at the Technological Institute
a cold rain
in arch ceramic
gutters

the printed circuit remains
as even the flames
are diagrams

Emoticon Slippers.

Touching and linking, then touching somewhere else, seems almost to be the blood within the body of discursivity, discursivity itself the palping form of syntaxis' a(b)[p]-proprioception within the oracular indexical
function-selection or "approach" as philosophical categoricon, inter-textuality the pattern-heart(h) filter selector of path-breaking, the ensue of L. I like the way Daniel Tiffany returns to a discussion of Lacan's use of Aristotle's  tuche' and automaton and reminds us of it's origin in Roger Callois, but hear the echoes with something I wrote about the Carbolic show, tuche' is usually translated as fate, but Lacan calls it "the encounter with the real," which as any reader of Jellybean Weirdo knows is the ~heilectyrical fyrthang~ [the fang], or mathematical hyper-subjectivity of any given nested agency's agency, the Masonic [G] as hyperbolic materiality ie "the actual", because complexity here is de-banalized, hence, poeticized, knowledge being the oracular blowtorch cutting through the layers of determination into the reverberational singularity and its sense as a mystical flatness or n-finite machinity. Automaton is rendered by Lacan as chance. It has a certain grace to it like Indra Kagis-McEwen's translation of the old greek term techne as "a letting appear" which as any reader of continental philosophy will hear, a solid echo with D&G, and strangely with the Old Buddhist theologies of  the gunas or layers here rendered as schitzoanalytic "series".. The perfect soundtrack for the actuation of the material in this case has to be the master tabla player, Zakir Hussain, whose articulation of the temporal into the physical is a literalized touching, a "moment touching" and finds the purest irronic perception of Lacan's tuche'...

tabbed view;
I rest my case.  

The Baroque Unity of Aesthetic and Anti-Aesthetics into the Pluromal Grotesque

Not sure about all the particulars of why I like this kind of German curatorial eclecticism, but I do. I guess a lot of it has to do not so much with affinities, but with a kind of artistic concern itself, the simple notion of contrast, if that's simple, and perhaps most supremely, is the way a show like this intimates the locus of geometric abstraction and minimalism squarely within the purvey of the historical hysterical world of something like Wolfgang Kayser's grotesque also making those larger connections to philosophical discourse like Alain Badiou's 'ontology as mathematics' which is more or less if you "get it" the Masonic [G] hermeneutic'd as Geometry or really as a kind of nod to the subjectivity of experience writ as discrete coordinates which also links in to things like Post-structuralism or Do we speak language or does language speak us, but writ as Do we actively create experience, or does Experience sort of make us an analog of victim, etc.. At this point, all language collapses into the total pluroma of semiosis.. at any rate. I though this show looked rather good, and had a good selection from artists I love like Frank Nitsche, Andre' Butzer, Kara Walker, and Haluk Akakçe.

At any rate, enjoy a look at

Carbonic Anhydride

Oudenarder Straße 16-20

September 28 - November 11, 2006

at the Galerie Max Hetzler

Italy: Ancient sarcophagus unearthed near Rome - Adnkronos CultureAndMedia

Italy: Ancient sarcophagus unearthed near Rome - Adnkronos CultureAndMedia

note the caduceus used as a ritual implement
or is that a bagel skewer?

and the viper as well as the ritual baguettes!

The serpentine nimbus of the male voluptuary is also quite nice,
or is it focaccia stix?

Egypt's Antiquities Authority Says 5,200 Year-Old Ancient Drawing Unearthed South of Aswan

Egypt's Antiquities Authority Says 5,200 Year-Old Ancient Drawing Unearthed South of Aswan

I Dub Thee~ Sir Strawberry Corbu, Modernist Porch Lizard.

ran wie Blücher, Beaumont, Masque, Inner, Temple...

pity prinks a petty bell
newcomer you fade upon the engender
of material science
how honk the father brave stainless steel spheres
how cold the mother bow
to the secret gong in the garden

on a bench
in a low wood
a wood which follows
a low and snaking hill
onna binge

the hymn to terracotta
red odalisques their cadmiumspyme
cactus dorsal mohawks
neon prick fence, their
tiny barrel nipple cactus
moon
cooing
lantern
echinoderm

slong

narrative to unlock
the padding feet
honey, there's someone in the house

.357
strong arm

looking up that
brave
in the warm sun
brown skin
red skin

maple
native

we grow gazelles
in speed lotion

i found a cat's hairball
stuffed with huge tick bodies
now flattened
like deflated cartoon brains

just a little turd of hair
a cigar
and jaunty the whoopy-cushion tick-brains
thrown in all willy-nilly
the fart gone out of them

boo
grrrrs
of the gnostic
abipluroma

I remember you
sweet Australopithecus

you adapted
to hands of gushing grass
and screams through
lightning eyeballs of
branching laughter

seeds scattered
to prophecy

growth
grotto
groigno
grong
grugno
gruin

An Entreat:

Vocatur Le Groyne

they lay the groat and throat together
like children to see if they will play with each other

one flemmishing the pfennig
while the other one
thicks the serpentine
with grochau..

Silesia looks marvelous this time of year,
the groot plaid mold abacks the timbern-zole,
and the fine upstart idiot puts in his lot with
Hugo Grotius, International Law, and whatever else
happens to fall in his lap, a fondue pot
with a picture on the side of a long lost airport.

picts.
foons.
random expositor
of baggage.

Sherlock Could Not Determine How Watson Died.

a polngu nose's bridal veil
with strawberry lodged into
the cavity where its tooth
broked step could usher
cold swift facile singing
among the ripped and harried
torsoon

delphi blip wannabe
volkswagon admiral hat

swing chain timing
linkage weep slipped

now framing again
its crunch bug fete sea trancer

How depressing is Goliad?

Wine
Women
And Song

The women hate you.
The wine is rotten, and
the song

is some pale screeching along a section
of forgotten glass

a severed finger stuck with dried blood to a sill
as if crooked into a scratch

rigor
mort
is

Schlupping Faun Pawns Through Hollow Noodle Arrays

skank
jones
idol

jungle
black
river

blood
pudding
sandal

its soft purple head
the sky or gorund
makapanny torump

monkey hand say

gourd
pass
rope

fuss fur
chill
ether

give them good slap
them hoss dangling meaty bees

chess
roach
honey
hop sing donkey

bright
starving
immaculate
toad
letter

banderole
aching
antonym

the dragon can't dance
all o' we is one

hiss noise
hole day

dyne
hide
gnole

Leery, The Rays Like Leaves...

drapery
column
stone

facile the tiniest steps
ascend the rippling still and
rigid edifice
and somewhere upon that massive pring
the mango
attends the butterfly
in an unplanned whorl of architectonics
the blind cat finds its perch

furred pearl you
replicate a caution cavern

hyle twitches
and makes plans

we all see
the silent hallway
before and beyond

what will
what wills
will in fact
be considered

emitter

Lea Zone [reason]:
tête-set-tera...

luminous finial
the cephalophore's
aching orner

Footwa

meine holy nagna arethusa

Maholy Nagy

Voluptas et Argos (Like Schopenhauer to Shenstone)


its downward facing face
the lips made by mortaring sherds around a hole
in an antic grimace
the six ritual sage plants
in the emblem of a lamp
and the dripping of the sleeper's mouth
dream to rim a keyhole
inscription, inscription, inscription

ATLAS WIGS

ATLAS V (WGS-2), AV-016, 4 April 2009
On 4 April 2009 (8:31 p.m. on 3 April 2009 in local time), an ATLAS V 421 launch
vehicle equipped with a four-meter-diameter payload fairing, two SRBs, and a single-engine
CENTAUR upper stage lifted off Complex 41 successfully. The mission was designed to place
the second Wideband Global SATCOM spacecraft (WGS-2) in a geosynchronous transfer orbit.
Boeing Satellite Systems was under contract to build a total of six WGS spacecraft based on the
Boeing 702 satellite platform.
62
The new satellites were built and orbited to offset the eventual
decline of America‘s Defense Satellite Communications System III (DSCS III) constellation.
They also complemented DSCS III Service Life Enhancement Program (SLEP) spacecraft. Each
of the newer WGS-2 satellites supplied more than 10 times the capacity of instantaneous
bandwidth (e.g., 4.875 gigahertz) than the older DSCS III SLEP spacecraft. According to the
flight scenario, the ATLAS V rolled into a flight azimuth of 93.17 degrees. The flight featured
two CENTAUR burn phases, and the spacecraft separated successfully approximately half an
hour after lift-off. The  WGS-2 weighed approximately 13,000 pounds at lift-off, but a
considerable amount of onboard fuel was expended getting the satellite into its 22,300-mile-high
geosynchronous orbit. Consequently, the spacecraft‘s  mass  dropped to just 7,600 pounds onorbit.   Following a transition period, the  constellation of  six, new, fully-operational WGS
spacecraft would replace the old DSCS III constellation around 2013.
63
On 9 April 2008, Eastern Range officials approved the WGS-2 launch for 6 August
2008, but the mission moved into indefinite status shortly thereafter. A new launch date of 11
October 2008 was requested on 27 May 2008, and officials approved it in early June 2008. The
mission continued to see-saw back and forth between indefinite status and new launch dates over
the next nine months as planners continued to wrestle with technical issues. In the meantime,
however, technicians and engineers managed to erect the ATLAS V booster on its stand on 27
June 2008. The two SRBs were attached to the ATLAS V on 2 July 2008, and engineers erected
the CENTAUR upper stage one week later. Officials completed a Launch Vehicle Readiness
Test on 14 July, and they wrapped up a Wet Dress Rehearsal on 8 October 2008. The spacecraft
                                               
61
45 SW History, 1 Jan  – 31  Dec 2007, Vol I, p 88; News Release, ULA, ―United Launch Alliance Atlas V
Successfully Launches NRO Satellite,‖ 10 Dec 2007.
62
The first WGS-2 satellite was designated WGS-2 (F-1), and it was launched aboard an ATLAS V from Complex
41 on 11 October 2007. Each satellite cost approximately $350 million. Those satellites launched on ATLAS V
vehicles were designated WGS-2 spacecraft. Other WGS satellites  – earmarked for DELTA IV missions  – were
designated WGS-3 spacecraft.
63
45 SW History, 1 Jan – 31 Dec 2009, Vol I, pp 95, 96; Justin Ray, ―Atlas 5 rocket successfully launches military
satellite,‖ spacefightnow.com, 3 Apr 2009; 45 SW Public Affairs, ―New satellite will grow warfighter capabilities,‖
45th Space Wing Missileer, 10 Apr 2009; News Release, Boeing, ―Boeing-Built Satellite WGS-2 Sends 1st Signals
From Space,‖ 6 Apr 09; Fact Sheet, ―Wideband Global SATCOM Satellite,‖ afspc.af.mil, Feb 2010.37
was encapsulated on 25 February 2009, and engineers mated the spacecraft to the launch vehicle
on 4 March 2009. Officials completed the Spacecraft/Launch Vehicle Integrated Test on 6 March
2009. They anticipated a tentative launch date  of 17 March 2009, assuming the Space Shuttle
Discovery’s STS-119 countdown went on 15 March 2009.
64
Following Discovery’s successful lift-off from Complex 39A, preparations for the WGS-
2 flight got underway on 17 March 2009. Unfortunately, a valve on the CENTAUR upper stage
sprang a leak during fueling operations, and the ATLAS V launch was scrubbed at 2349Z on 18
March 2009. Officials approved a new launch date of 1 April 2009, pending determination of the
root cause for the valve malfunction and proper corrective action. The countdown slipped to 3
April 2009 a few days later. There were no unplanned holds during the countdown, and the
ATLAS V lifted off without incident at 0031:00.233Z on 4 April 2009. The mission was
successful.
65

Mary Fruitskin's Canny Mitts.

It is more than words. [mort mot]

It is the death of the author. [mouth mowed]

The same idea is present everywhere. [moot merde]

How do we market our marks? [murk]

How many people has it killed? [meat]

Are there teams in the tomb? [tome mote]

How is it reproduced? [mute mates meeting]

What is more profitable than learning? [nightmares of the moor]

What are they saying? [moth's motto: maintain moth, move]

Is your mother a word beast? [mot-ther]
Is your father a song beast? [fa (lala)-ther]

Word. [drome]
.]wormitory[.
>dormer<
_mot-tel~
morte ^tale
#Irrtom#
'eat and rome'

pastoralism aka
is put out
to pasture

"He comes to me with another letter,
and a face as long as the sea..."

Beckon Its Frame.

it will trill high


along the wire


the line itself is moving

and within the hour
form

told them
told them up
where the escarpment looked out alone
or a massif
with only the single abode
a discus or shelf
hanging out from raw muscle

in the drafts of its being
spaces where dances could come
the bending of the fruit
to the plot
of the filling
fitting
covers
and pads

axle holds mirror

boxes
or if the trees that were planted there
slowly came inside
as the building opened
or grew

the whole view
unknown

a saucer large enough
for a hundred birds at a time

as if for sun
the emblem had
a gentle thrashing

water to beckon
its frame
for holding.

Something from Ed.

Eddie died this year, but here is somethng he sent me June 28, 2008.
The picture above is what I sent back to him.

Nobody speaks to me.
At least I don't get spam.
It's the ideal condition from which to contemplate those things that elude
the dance of language, danger, and desire. Sitting perfectly still, I can
see out beyond the confines of my body, as if I were sitting under a distant
tree, thinking.

When one leaves one's body, the first thing to think about is how a
disembodied soul should behave. Your first thought is "I'm finally free!",
and you try to fly upward, which is when you realize you are still tied down
to the material world, and that flying directly upward would quickly result
in death. So you discover that movement in 3D space is not a good idea, and
you stop to think : "How did I get here?"

All about you, you see souls flying upward to be extinguished by contact
with suns, and you start to think about that old ugly woman who talks to
you, the old woman from the islands, the one who takes care of you, and you
remember what she always says to you:

"My Son, are you drunk again?"
"No ma'am."
"Pull your pants down and let me have a look."
"Yes ma'am.

And your opinions of Beauty shift. The eye that constantly scans the world
for evidence of a cute leg or bottom or tit relaxes - and looks outside
itself. One day you are looking at the world, and in the next instant all
you can see is what your Eye is looking at. The World unfolds beneath you,
and somewhere down there your Eye is taking it all in, but you have lost
direct connection with it.

And your ugly Mother, you ask her to kiss and fuck. When she starts to comb
her hair back down and put on a T-Shirt, you realize with alarm that the
night is over, and you are on your own again. Alone.

book colon

here's how the tanguy thing is looking today.

Rodney Calligan

audient inter ovoid shedding facies
tea autre' the outre
films of war shown on white horses fucking
stop

a pink gourd
a yellow gourd
a pale green gourd carved of jade
housing a parrot foetus
in a yolk of banana pudding

cooked to a thumb
licensed to an ogre
whose body like an orgy
receives many delicious visitors
headless horsemen
their mounts
toward a war of fucking

which race rises ascendant through fucking?

Volvo.

Volvo indepedent machinery Apple Computer talk vagina wedding

Oranges fill a boudoir
for staircases

Staircases sex the longing to look
up
down

the curve of any magicion
con card dracula
narrative function

what function a ball to plop out
roll around
plop back in?

These vicissitudes cannot be quantum
where Ugolino saws through the enormous fly's leg
to take sup of its hearth wine

mint electricity beater
cock in a roman haircut
Laurel Bacall's my mane fried
A

Ceramic bull bed
lift up the rib section to see the red satin interior
naked voluptuous odalisque inside
female minotaur
sucking a bloodcicle
or is that a cicada microphone

brain cast in blood
seen beneath a giant green glass thumbnail
there's just this big green leather thumb
inside a pale blue room
with a brain of blood
under a green glass thumbnail
the size of a car hood

Icecream

Last night while I was painting, I sort of had a small epiphany about why there are so many ice cream metaphors floating through painting. At a certain mix and color paint behaves just like ice cream! Makes me want to do a performance painting with real ice cream. Picked up Tardi / Manchette's West Coast Blues through Interlibrary loan, and had it delivered scant blocks from my abode. I heart public libraries.

token: sample: avenue:

+control tower jet `box
rectangle section flourish single color
^chair lean
eye back labor briefed"
supple radiant silent abandon drone
uninteresting perfection
formica
very clean#
easy ^to clean again
white bored polar `taxis
seep

flesh questioned
quest fashion
flash jettisoned
ingestion quaint beau-severe
a lightning any direction
out from the flexible rubber ear-shield (Roman a clef)
through any semi-solvent plane
or ^intention
vague increase"

pupa-lace
populace
les pulpo

awareness the book
to rethink (ace(
the big thick sound
or if transparent pages
call the text back `out onto the page

hulk of hovering loose pages
forbidden planet

will bidden unto ethernity

shy
artificial~
glass or bread not puerile

hulking mass modulating discretely

velocity*
yoke (what
token: sample: avenue"

bright husks
shed to a science
in silence's fold

too much
too many
tomb gesticulating
with memorial robot dancers
"transparent mermaid-trees"

revealing emergency orders
of enameled billiard balls

abstract green felt solid in park

other balls
magnetized
on non-horizontal surfaces

at night
the pockets
light up

talk
or listen
and record the passersby

Von Karl

Exu.

Toppings: Eshu Vom Marmingus

In the theatre, or play version of the rolling metaphor, Saint Anthony
comes out like Jack Benny draped in hissing beasts like a diva in squirming rags
and distractedly he swats at the ney parasitical encumbrances, but the camera,
which shouldn't be there, obviously, pulls back, and then up, violently, and
accelerates, leaving through a hole in the center of the champagne-colored
sky-light to traverse vast domains of sublime meteorology detached from
any specific locale, exquisite, dense, school cubes of flying snakes, cubes
of liquid hair whose nucleus might be a brain of india ink actively suppressing
any obsidianate reflection to remain matte and still as the centre of the universal storm, and only
once does a long thin crystal needle emerge like the name for a state which existed
only once and will never exist again.

Corbu.
Ubu.
Lobo.

To taste the rind of the Anchoy:
Jack Benny in black-face
does Othello
felling leaches.
What exactly is instructive in the knowledge
that green is the color of Mohammed?
There are deep solemn caverns on every continent.

And even sand comes into will.
Carolyn Exner
"Willy"
Nill.

Hayatı ıskalama

      gazlı yaşam
          ne önemlidir lüks
aşk üzerinde kaçırmayın
lüks köpüklü, bir ferman kafası
Bir an çalmak için şanslı alabilir

          Dostluğu klavyelerinde
yaşamı monitörlerinde arayanlar
Geri dönüşüm kutusunda saklanabilir
mi kaybolan zaman
      Hayat ıskalamayı affetmez

Kafamda bir kız adı var
bir lüks hissediyor

          i yatakta ünlü olduğumda
Lütfen lüks içinde dilimin koymak için
Eğer kışın büyük bir parti için bir tekne çekersiniz
      benim pantolon dışında

i koridor boyunca size bakarsanız
benim pantolon büyük bir şey olduğunu sanmıyorum
ben sadece bir kuru üzüm bazı humus var

ben sadece bir üzgün flüt ÖS
      yaprakların yavaş bir göktaşı içinde

      Hepimizin nefesi kesilmek
ölen yılan gibi

Drawing instant electronic circuits on paper | KurzweilAI

Drawing instant electronic circuits on paper | KurzweilAI

The Post-Modern Condition [The Inn of Strange Meetings]

Oh Lee,


We were strangers who never visited the sea together as they did.
They were not fascists, but made their tymbals after a god in bricks
for an invisible Empress. In Russia, in the mirror of the arctic which we fed
with dancing bears, our hosts came bleeding and we sang for them
in walls the color of dusk, syzygies hospitable in every resonance for their
hearts were as valves of precious color, and as these days go by
I long for you more, and I think more about you now that you are gone,
and if I sit in a chair whose back is straight up, the whole lordosis of this
memory is forced to sing, Empress of bricks in the Arctic mirror tettix,
tin hand brushing hair, face whose eyes have no fate to ladle, our mouth
as one syllable, oh Lee, if only their ignorant news were only shock 
to a wooden flue, these cold hyle rabbits pushed out in Autumn where
the pigment gets loaded by whistling distracted stevedores in dark knit 
toboggans with patches laid on of bulldogs or skulls in top hats
wearing monocles.. Oh Lee, our child is ancient Egypt, and Pan goes
sneaking through the reeds to encounter a nymph made of moonlight
dancing alone on the waters. Holy. Holy. 




Eskimo kisses in Summertime,
Marina

This is not a Condo, but it is an odd nose (or noise)..

ODNOC

Kevin Hollered "Cock"...

(whatever): Bu servisten çok memnun kalacaksınız çünkü:

There is truce in purple
and liboya for fustage, the cameo sweep
of all that is elegant and refined may be,
may be jeultonged, gelu-tron ~a rubbaboo bubbly
and given over to sincere conimbrun
or finnimbrun's fake, at, at,
tassels hang from a cardinal horse,
its red feathers to signify~
that blood shapes the air to fly.

There is Cleopatra in purple,
and unguent for fanged nipple fitchew,
a crude will of green, at, atone.

Caesar will come out laughing in polecat loincloth
in the first days of Spring to welcome the swimmers.

They come in boxes, asleep, and wrapped in fittle-fleet dreams
like efreet from lost yaylas, their skin like orange pollen, velvetine
through the microstriping, and their heads, ybatrid with downy basuco,
their arms like a cavernulous grumo until uncoiling
into perahera, vivda, or kirrymirryboff,
Belousov–Zhabotinsky.

Lest Cloud Vulter, and Test Fenaim..

odd rabbit tit odd rat tit
briar come thingily through hide's heaven
and nose white dolly to odeum
the green string bobbin
rondarowingurnafountaintaburny
bacon cape peanut pearl to market
the court gymnasium mineral
hold tight its thigh veranda hopping
with clenched Odissi mung to a charge
impregnated with odic force
perchance hodograph how do they
enter the problem space and where
for whence do they exit hodymoke by
gavel ears dredged to hog-frame
Count Porcinelmo's Friar by golly
Broom hickory made nama to rula

Artichokes!


The Gumbino foamily mummified in spacesuits,
or was it Bunium flexuosum?

Rabbit Test.
Rat Test.

Empty concept
and blind impression:

Oh! The mind, mind has fountains..

Bachelard and Ricoeur meet one night at
Le Saint Cloud, at the Bar PMU...

Impeccable Stripes. Unpeckable Ponder. (Books Give No Gauge to Mind's Origin)

the softest hoof is called
the other, mother, or
that which circumscribes
the falling, but names
are the least important thing.

the softest hoof is also
the most bitter, but has
the most exquisite flower
which has a small sac which hangs down
housing twin glass vessels
which face each other
like book-ends or heads
which kiss each other
and hold a faux-perfume,
or a scent which disappears
too quickly to understand
its contour in entirety.

the other is vague, witch mother pollen
goat sac flower, it is the least
important thing, and its name is murder,
the murder of nothing by nothing.

its call is the most lovely of all the calls,
accidental orchid whistling butter flutes,
they dangle in the dandled ringlets
where whistling ovules seed the interior
of tomorrow's opening salvo:

prangue punked by
pluntum slarviolah

buntah
buntah

yabu its chiongschli
napa valley hash head
did Picasso paint a surfer child
whose ringlets held a single seahorse
whose mane
was as an olive garland?

White Tea Shirt Soot.
In Thyme. Ein Soph Test Mane.
Ein Writan on Mon Esphere.

Plutarch plutard.
Plitarn fi trifargu.

Fandango

fond of the ambiguity of its surface
the classic extent to which it extends
in perpetuum ala mode a circumstance
dangling with plugs and sockets a ship
brightly plumed and progressing
into decay and other things less known
the great shouts around the missing well
to which well-wishing onlookers agape
at the great saga of its labor  


ἀγάπη

pain and birth the garland of its driving
shaft cupid to take up two-fingered gloves
in the maelstrom
harp harp harp

clown in a tux
drives all over a rain drop

reading Echenoz's Ravel to my husband
as we drive his cold grey wet still morning contrasted
by our hot windy dry and buffety stammering

Boléro

Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro
BoléroBoléroBoléro
Boléro

BoléroBoléroBoléro

Boléro Boléro BoléroBoléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro
BoléroBoléro
Boléro Boléro

Boléro




Hegel
Bagel

Their hands link together in language.
Our hands link together in language.
The World is a Frankenstein economy
of shifting determination.

Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro
Boléro
Boléro
Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro
Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro Boléro

 4 mosche di velluto grigio


There is great disorder under heaven, the situation is excellent.


order a custom-made bathtub.

Heavy Deep Brocade of Dreaming (Poodle Bull's Solemn Ole')

poodle bull
poodle bull

in high heeled china shop shoes
hollow spiral stair case heels

water in my camera
if a policeman takes down your name
eternal beach of dreams

words like seashells our heads are snared in

President Seashell of the Plenarshians.

Poodle bull
I have nicoise salad and watch the matador paint your hooves.
I watch you lick his bottom.

I watch the strange golden children with hammers
attend the gargantuan foetus
whose sky blue blood feeds a fountain
which looks like a cloud

sky blue steaks
on a bbq of neon louvres

sky blue poodle bull
your saddle of swarming butterflies
houses no buttocks
but is more like
a Matador's jacket
a pelisse of palissy ware
a bunchkin of medusa grape lanterns

That Band In the Swamp [Gold-dust Mascara]

the golden frog ascends
in bliss
into the white hot sun
of love

motown
motown
amazon
dot com

the golden frog ascends
as a feathered mummy hand
to become a leaf in the solar tree

singing snails
go down on me
singing snails
go down on me

Saint Bernard Rum in the Snow
Lavender Nipple Priest
White Yeti Centipede Beast
watching it grow

the singers
have beards of golden frogs
between their legs

Go down on me
white hot Saint Bernard Snail Beast Singing

bliss is an ivory spiral
bigger than the sun
watch the rum pour from my britches
there's a frog-snail on my tongue

hangman's erection
inside the womb
of the golden frog sun
Go down on me
Saint Bernard
of the little statues

Bliss carries a disease of joy
everywhere it goes
and on wide barques of glass
we know that
soft golden frogs shall be our lounges
and sheets of iron constantly flying overhead
shall soak up
the devious rays

how buck-toothed the universe?
how saw-toothed the wave?

little white barrel of rum
labeled bliss or sun
or hangman or sleep

we slosh out in sky blue body suits
through golden mud to greet

Uriah Heap.

{{{{{"Logique du Makara"}}}}}

Recent Studio Hijinx (All Sirius Disinclusion Prevented by Abolition)

An Homage to Tanguy (A Quote)

A Meditation upon Lautreamont (as the Fitness of Unfitness)

Swag-Stag-Scab-Knob

Cragmont touloure, its touloure
touloure on, tellurion, Tel Uriah
down in Ukiah, that Jim Jones
loved a negress in Austin-Tea-Ex.

I have an umbrella.

Cragmont Touloure, it velour
amoour is suppenly Hungarian.

Hungarian names.
Hungarian hairstyles.
Hungary for Macaroni,
news of the position most
widely held, George Quasha
stacks rocks in a white box.
Here's Nero in all his glory:

I love you Beetle Bailey.
I love you Hierarchical Clustering Disorder.
Eating Des Worder.
Lanny Quarles' Notes on "Farce"
with generous supplementarianism
by Non Esse Caelo Demissos, or
Jove in a Donkey's foot or
in the Ancient City by Fustel de Coulanges
and by that we reference the Plebeians
rejecting the aristocratic religion, the Plebeians
thus becoming an Aristocracy of Lowness.

It is only to the
WILD PROMISCUITY
of memiacity that we bear tribute

OUR ROUX-LEGION being subject more to
RUSE than RULING and much to

drool and mewling.

I've seen a wombat
like a stomach with fangs and wings
launching "rude thangs"
at nobody.

Usually we "hole up"
far from the madding crowd
and Hobbes' 'violent men'..

We know that history is silly string
but don't want to be killed for preaching it,
though we preach it here.


Bob
Le Bob

Le Sub Genie

Ous

Notes On "Camp"

Notes On "Camp"

by Susan Sontag

Published in 1964.

Bomolochos

Bomb of Logos

Poem of Holos

Cholos, Xolotl,

R. Mutt, Mutter,

"Mutteriality"

Bibli-Sampule

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