oh, you say(s)
on satuday march 21st. at precisely the same time
at the corner of which way and surgeon generals warning
there will be a fact sale -
low facts, high facts, facts to the highest bidder - facts
two-tone facts, subdivided facts
facts that twist and shout the dick clark method
mass produced facts, frying pan facts, hand made facts
we will have facts from heaven and facts from hell
and if you're from hell and it seems like heaven
we have facts for that fact
we have wall street crashed facts
william the conqueror facts
and boris karloff sex facts
cat facts, dog facts, fish facts
fax facts, first and foremost facts, and secondary facts
we will have facts for all occasions and facts for all seasons
once in a life time facts and facts that must sell at all cost - facts
just the facts and nothing else for sale
just the facts
two individuals greet each another; one looks like a tired file cabinet, the other acts like one.
-my dear . . . do you know how some voices fad with time, lulled into the back ground connected to the future through those that have continue long past?
-yes . . . like an aria that circles in the trees.
-not quite . . . it is beyound the stigmata of the intersexed, beyound to the trails of maddness in the morning, beyound crosshairs that bear the children.
a foot away from the position of desire both characters look down at the *x* on the sidewalk and continue to a designation.
-so then, where is the voice that stares out of the window, and where is the voice that peers in and say, *hey . . . stop that . . . will you just stop it?*
- it is on the road in the closet?
-more I dare say, a rattle of an empty tin can north on the beach.
-a triumph under something never sweatered?
-under a different amen.
-wiped clean with a permanent eraser.
did i mention the
way to eat fireflies is
to lure them
stale fingers bored
limp by your side,
they find a
cross nations without you.
it's not empty if
you open your eyes.
tempest tempum great
wide yellow journals
yellow but TRUE priests
of the confetti lime
sky shall unleash their
sacral carrier waves
through the Trotskyite
streets (there are six
of us and half dozen of
the Others) mère douce
d'un dieu but lest we
rest while the days of
November trip over them-
selves to run down the
fire escapes with shafts
of peace giving light
on the stucco which keeps
my eye gathered in shock
for hours days cum nights
for the pen has its fever
its sweat on the page
leaving indisible traces
of rhetorical crustacean
r ph phys s s u v rs y l pz h v
ph w h p o o s p o u l h w h
- m l-f m m m g m s
i s v l t l s lid f ms g hit ( wd y s with its
dimensi nal planes a ms are s l sely b und hence use
graphi e as lubrican pencil lead) diam nd (hard because
c n uen are well c nnec ed a m all 3 d men n )
buckyball (60-a om occerball ) nano ube all have mpor an
electrical properties but general they are not magnetic until
pure-carb sample as k be mag etic except [H]e
[H] l at t m ratur s cl s abs lut z r t[H]
x r m nt r t ns w r su a n arby
h s n h s m sm m un s w s
jus n ugh inspi sm m gn i d ing m ng b n
atoms magnetism was then measured sensitive squid detectors
m g etic [F]orce microscopy t sur[F] ce ccor i g o e o[F]
the rese rchers room-temper ture m g etic gr phite might h ve
appl ca [O] p [O] c ( [O]m h [O] cal w[O] k
ha a [O]m a 2-d m [O] al aph lay p kl d
pro on m b 100% p n polar zabl ) a da a ora
c [A]gn c b s co l b nscr b [A] p r c[A]rbon
f l r[A]th r th[A]n t[A]l t[A]l-s con ctor f l s w [A]k
magnetism graphite might also have implications for study of
wh h ar r h ar n-hydr g n nd f r a tr n y
pa r h ar -f d ga d d rg g rrad at
STOP TV Brainwashing with Carrot-Pumpkin Muffins! You will take
a horseback RIDE to the entrance of the EVIL CAVE. This is the exotic
New Year's Eve with Siberian shamans in the paradise of Caribbean
Islands! Remember PIRATE ships? Have FUN -- you are worth it! In
ancient times the SUN's movement was attentively tracked by priests.
You can learn about your future development and your role in
The Academy of Happiness, an elite CLUB of our planet. Among
the other fascinating adventures, you will climb down a rope
ladder to MORE than 200m and examine CAVE inscriptions &
pictures from LONG ago.
it was boiling simmering badgers - under the sun dial eating cheese. *was here yesterday and was not,*____________said. say as you please. blake said, or wanted to say; if you can imagine it is is for sale, in place, a wreck, a addicted and or deceased and went on; let them all say it; words, action, camera, ready. good day. feeble as a door mouse, feeble as a skeleton in hell. tomorrow never knows; but its on the books; an eye for and eye; morphing fools in the miasma of law, disaster on a stick. it was here; was yesterday, was a ________dragged out the bodies. a stranger had words for dinner, that had no meaning. disposition on the the floor was and was not bodies dragged away, bodies brunt, disposed of, left then and now; dark and space; moving slowly, budding towards us. us in a distance, reaching though time......................... it didn’t matter, it was to late. from somewhere a dog barks, splendor freezes.
Later he would walk down to the lagoon
to look for the pelicans. They were
his touchstone, the way their
solid bodies gave substance to the
landscape, a centre to it. Only when
they found him would he return.
*There's a real?*
*But who lives in the dead--years wicked,*
said the world before we never knew.
*I do not far from here,*
the said the center of the road to me as I was saying,
*this Land of the Munchkins; I set you free; and you are welcome, Who are welcome, anyone is welcome.*
*Oh, dear! Oh, dear!*
was the cry
*Oh, dear! Oh, dear!*
was the cry
*The North still thinks it's the world. Therefore we still have never heard that you must walk.*
half frightening all the dead--
*Aunt Em, Aunt Em, your house did anyway. Aunt Em, Aunt Em,*
There's a laugh,
*Aunt Em, Aunt Em, I do not kill anything. since you are dead--*
*Oh, dear! Oh, dear! The North is my aunt who live in the West. *Oh, dear! Oh, dear, this must be a mistaken. Aunt Em, Aunt Em, can this be?*
I don't know if those of you I cannot see reading this obsess as I do about books but for years I've been wanting to read a translation of Francis Bacon: The Logic of Sensation by Gilles Deleuze. Finally it's out in a readable translation by Daniel W. Smith (University of Minnesota Press, 2003).
Please, allow me to quote a little of the opening paragraph of Chapter 11 (said chapter entitled "The Painting Before Painting"):
"It's a mistake to think that the painter works on a white surface. The figurative belief follows from this mistake. If the painter were before a white surface, he could reproduce on it an external object functioning as a model, but such is not the case. The painter has many things in his head, or around him, or in his studio. Now everything he has in his head or around him is already in the canvas, more or less virtually, more or less actually, before he begins his work. They are all present in the canvas as so many images, actual or virtual, so that the painter does not have to cover a blank surface but rather would have to empty it out, clear it, clean it. He does not paint in order to reproduce on the canvas an object functioning as a model; he paints on images that are already there, in order to produce a canvas whose functioning will reverse the relations between model and copy."
Isn't this also applicable to the poet and the blank screen or page?
lacerate H the hand with a leaf to shave and bleeds that the wealth
in the observed minute then another time that another hour to cognate
to "birth put it generally" to watch H around him who sings in the
street in the street one another Telemachus one savage the other
demonstrated mother fuck(er) that he dances night of assisting(ed) to
negotiate droppings dove or obscenities that shout outside the falcon
'DASH' in the Cuban back part of Spanglish Cuba the "you asshole" oh of
conditioned(al), you happy of say(ings) conditional one word is marked
by the deficiency of the deficiency of the minute of the monitoring to
sketch updates in embol-ism-ism of the pulmonary mine of death be-he
of the mother reached and emitted to a diverse street to informing(ed)
to sing walking of women "slaying its supply slaying its doormen, when
hoping, booty of the delay when hoping" isn't not now did not wake up
upon H any knowledge this isn't the second time that it's of that
happened(ing) underneath the aluminum awning he filled upon the boxes
a smooth hand of bandage(ed) that will worry ignition as far as
describes connected in the light of the day of history(ical) to imply
two eyes an account of a card no-exist(ent) no of concrete of return of
the entropy of dark(end) (if you seem aforesaid)
The concluding section of Eileen Tabios's Reproductions of the Empty Flagpole (New York: Marsh Hawk Press, 2002) is "A Triptych for Anne Truitt." and this "triptych" exemplifies the conceptual density, imagistic richness, and subtle narrative layering of the book as a whole. The title of the third prose-poem in this triptych, "The Continuance of the Gaze" (117-119), announces the text as an anthem for the viewer and the artist's endurance, and indeed, the artist is "always already" a viewer, and visa-versa. The "you" in the opening paragraph might be an art lover, a lover of human beings, an artist, two or all of the three, or yet others, but I am interested in reading this paragraph as guidance for a contemporary painter hungry for a clarification of his/her painterly poetics when the usual "trial and error" is too trying and error-laden:
Can you see with such compassion that I might mistake your lucidity for the
high line of a clearing sky, when instead it is the song of foam cresting a
distant wave? Can you pay the price for risking perception and imperceptibility?
Can you be surrounded-- sink into, then be uplifted-- by the singularity of a
color emanating from a teal painting tiny enough to stand on one hand? I have felt
Michelangelo's slaves surge out of stone. I trust in radiance. Let: Us. (117)
How does the artist assume the challenge of "seeing" what is unfolding, let's say, in her/his canvas or sculpture with "compassion"-- with the ability to set aside personal gain and self-flattering gestures in order to make a contribution to the perceptual experience of others? Is it to "trust in radiance," to pay attention to that unfolding patiently until "radiance" manifests itself?
The co-presence and equivalence of "let" and "us," rather than the obvious "let us," urges the artist to "let" the artmaking process lead to "radiance," so that the felicitous intersubjectivity of an "us" can be established. If this successfully achieved "compassion" is posed as a cause not only for significant "perception," like the ecstatic release of "Michelangelo's slaves" from the "prison" of his "stone," for miscommunication-- the viewer's mistaking the intention of one tropological imagistic/figurative possibility for another-- "imperceptibility" is not necessarily a negative result of the artist's "risk" but the inevitability of endlessly proliferating imaginations.
Further, "imperceptibility" may not be caused by flawed rendering; the very mystery of what is considered imperceptible enhances the appeal of the artwork for the viewer and the artist who cannot, as interpreter, contain effects produced by her "creation." Both of these participants in the art-making process can be psychologically "surrounded" by emergent "radiance"--paradoxically in a spatially tiny area--and then experience aesthetic immersion, a further relinquishing of control that makes them "sink into" a kind of quicksand, and finally, realize the reward of being "uplifted"--relieved of the discomfort of surrendering the ego by a lightening of psychic gravity, an exquisite simultaneity of plenitude and weightlessness. And if the "song of foam" lasts only a moment, it can come again in other "emanations" of color, shape, and motion.
Tabios's notion of "compassion," then, is as far from self-sacrificism as it is from self-indulgence. Its "trust" in "radiance" nurtures the open, patient cultivation of possible causes and conditions of perceptual "lucidity" in selves and others.
My quarrel, such as it is, with "Language is a pheromone" lies in the use of the term "pheromone". I adhere to a fairly strict scientific definition of it, something along the lines of " a chemical substance secreted by an animal & used to influence the behaviour of other members of the same species". You can add to that "some pheromones are imitated by plants to attract specific insects in order to optimise the transfer of pollen".
Pheromones are used for communication - "this is my territory" or "I'm ready for reproduction" - so they are a form of language. But each pheromone is specific in the message it sends & who it is sending it to. & this is where I'm coming from: that specific language can act like a pheromone, can be a pheromone; but to me, Language per se definitely isn't a pheromone.
Had you said "The Language of pheromones" or "The pheromones of Language" I would have applauded. Maybe I'm being too pedantic, but I couldn't let your statement go unchallenged.
sp----ng a-a-eur g-lden --pr-ve sa-ura---n bread-h c--p-s-ng
pr------n cus---s repa-red references --ck-ng sl-w-ng
-er--nal sk- leas-ver- acc-rd--nak superv-s-ng fuck-ng
calcula-ed fa--us reques- pr-jec-ed h-s-na-e v-able --cr-bes
deferring grief gurus z---s leak badly ab-ring c--bed uiliy
unbiased esed camera shne deviains escape bhersme
m re pa s assur g h ch r s lapse ps par cle sp led
h rr fy g fa tast c arra ges chest ut u vers t es exp e t
c rruptutwardly b ttle v wels d ze s duplex fract s
m me t a ual c rrelat sutl es vest g c ve t s
all wable deXabb .g d .ald mme.se muse .sures Xube clea.
sXre. waXvX.g dXmX.Xshed u.publXshed c mpeXe.cy X.ferred
searched bafflX.g XXch sce.e sXu.g are.a check uX m X r
X ge uXXy Xableaux prXesXs wasp dumps heed blue bl ws wXdXhs
wXndered sXudXes bush nXne arrXves echXXng regard schedule
sXripped harbXr success cXckrXach nullify please bravery
righXmXsX swallXwing riches aXhens egg lXyal XXXk jXgging
topped pillows variety flushing readily pupil sands sighed
threat membershXps sXmulatXXX aggravated stXff few hXtch
dread saXg lXXus scare guXs faXed mysXXfy mXvemeXX capable
humaXXXd XXmely XraXl juXk maps sXudyXXg XXquXrXXg gXXdXes
bXasXed .aXageable XX.es uXXfy XurXs slXde sXwed halX happy
presses e..ries diag..se fulfilled ra..i.gs .a.ual rec...e.ded
kil.by.es hal.s s.e. .easure clari.y p.s..a. c..fi.e .a.ive
din.saurs sensed haltingly reducti.n batch strips detect.r
intimidating hugged reinventing judging abnormal diagonally
appreciates partitions reactions mainly escaping woods
boot party insistence adapts pauses attempt exemplifying
judicious criednwards dean echo rods shit race correlated
procedural helsinki crossed packaging referring speaking
prepared inventorynce sky leapt cons apt dear xmas catalogue
first deadlines such cite tries traps snide exhorts decaying
enterprise transistors shareware
Thought I'd move
our little dialogue
to the front page...
We may, as Foucault has it,
be incompatible with our language.
Yet, we exude it. It leaks, dribbles,
pours from us. It gases off, drifts away
and blows out of us.
It's effluvium and effluent. Yet it can
You have had physical encounters
with some of my words. As I have
with some of yours--oh, la!
A couple of Kari's are wiggling quite
painfully in me now. Damn, I
didn't realize they could do that--
or that! And where do they find
those little costumes?
Why you old monkey-fucker! Weed-face bedaubed with berry juice. You old prop-pole from Noah's vineyard, fish bone from the back of Jonah's whale. You filthy old flint matchstick, old rancid candle at 24 the pound, stinking harness off my wife's mule. . . . Ah! you old pumpkin, pickled in bug-juice, third horn on the Devil's brow, face of a codfish with oysters for ears, you old worn-out shoe off a bawd, you reeking piece of Milli Printemps' bloody linen. If I get my hands on you, how I would rub your face in it, your filthy ugly puss of a baked apple as brown as burnt chestnuts. Just to teach you to not to lie like that. . . .
channels a gunshot
sucks shut cuts the blood-life
given nails sucks the channels
the great filler
dries apprehension censors
perversion permissible may not
am not a not buffer
Shy & awake
a fundamental meeting
hunts the hunting gunshot hits it
downs a piece of filling evidence how? when many
it(ing) the repetition of activity
of engaged(ing) "care how he is substantial is not - nough"
that a H whispers "you will already
take ants from this/these" with live(s) the house it/they
inside the stores put above for the red deep
black cord that threw since hang(ing)
electrical bulbs of
complexity that hung to
the dream somnia-somnia-manic
nevertheless smoothly consumed hammered
Ceravno - Ing. and Astra which
they danced around striking slightly
an explosive operation
operation operation operation operation
the edge of the hat singing
"takes my hand, take my arm
that I will take to the sea"
singing to him
"my taking of the hand
is taking my arm to the sea too"
H oscillates behind once
[sends the sample of the soup
reads Circe around circling itself
separates the sausage in order by length]
of red a united operation staked width
painted circle operation operation operation operation
posted per the nuts she says activities epistemological
hooking-engaging-ed of eatery re-re-low
to us repeated not well made enough
slides off the hand of Aretha to the accountant
"I say to Franklin was that it commits
and the key of my man"
who is what we it will to be-be-iac
epsilon plot pour silent fossil foreign input curb
slot plans outflow asset hassle in plot tactful in
plays soars prone inept potato outputs male peep
touch posted notice or deposit & glass in pours &
propose with oil pivot outflow content pension
pleases in cushion illegal
even though you are only five
or an animal on four legs?
you will be mine though thick and thin,
I will make you laugh and howl like a pig.
let you chase rabbits and carry my shoes,
I will offer you bread and wine;
while you play the whore,
during immaculate conception time;
like nero and that dieing bride
I will dress you up to make you more;
anything to deflower your tiny soul,
blessed be mine in the name of all
and let the sin begin.
Shall I lick and make you squirm
taste thy small and musty turn
Rough or smooth from tongue to lips,
maybe chocolate dipped.
if you want it from behind,
pretend we're gay, boys for a time;
I'll fall for you,
throw you down;
we'll ingest each others flesh
you taste my sent;
take me in,
I am a toy
and you my thing
tell me which hole to stick
this strong and mighty dick?
I am Rough ready for your mouth or hand, cunt or ass;
maybe i will use a rubber or bareback.
it does not matter what day it is,
I will cast you to hell in a second;
if it wasn't rome it will be you that burns,
I am my organ and I make it work;
solid by definition
in position of a cheap thrill;
I will make you beg and then take you home,
you better hope and pray
I don't play jeffery Dahmer that day.
Shall I buy me a stick
when Thou art small and mushy?
Rough winds from my mouth seem neither to shake or cause you bud,
maybe I will use a leash and chains.
red hot iron to make it shine,
cast it to gold or give me a dildo of precaution;
for when it declines it falls,
I want a organ to work;
wither into a solid definition
or possession in drag;
fuck me hard and bring me home,
oh metallurgical dick lets play
when you finally wake again.