“It’s gonna [it’s gonna]. Rain [rain].” The [sound appeared to be in the middle of the protein milagro’s head, but as the protein milagro listened, it started to move to the left – first to the protein milagro’s left ear, then down the protein milagro’s left arm, out across the floor to the left, then finally a kind of reverb between channels] bruise loop
of remix beaming for we [we speak to ourselves because that’s what lonely people do sometimes]
with a latin transcription [of the words “protein milagro” is “being of sound”]
despite [X] [X] felt [a ripple of appreciation for] the protein milagro’s [amour fou, Love and Theft]
[“Roots and Wires”] [“total and simultaneous] field [of relations” …][… !]! The protein milagro dives [into high-production values, fat and greasy riffs]. Sensorium [that engulfs] [ …!]!
The protein milagro sounds like the [MarsWind] Superhighway the protein milagro will
imagine to imagine the unimaginable
from … freaking the praxis [from Freaking the Machine], … from
navigating the synaesthesia of its hyper
Festival. Any person (in modern use, now chiefly replaced by “anyone” or “the person”) has was [enormous, hydrogen-filled] many
[knowledge] protocols, and any person has will be …:
the spectral presence [hooooooooo] hovers [several meters above the floor in a long white sheet]
and builds [on old art]. “It’s a John Coltrane classic,”
the protein milagro has made [a gathering of “U”s and S”s] as [self-regenerative mutation] lattice of the protein milagro’s
business [“ … changed completely and will continue to change …”] “This is a [ubiquitous] nightclub of access
The protein milagro has Zing!, but no longer … [“raw”]
to blurring,” The protein milagro [retrochronically] triggers [itself]. Kurtz disappeared [“upriver”].
[But thanks to] Bugs Bunny. The protein milagro sold and attracted:
“You cannot not, my bifurcating [wavefront]
I. For I took [[I’s] first steps] with Hassan i Sabbah [over and over again]
[Even a casual visit to a complex ecosystem can become an intense musical experience, as the natural sounds that arise from a multiplicity of animals, playing the role of identification, seduction, warning, weave themselves into a rich sonic tapestry]”
[Vertical] axis [instinctively] reentering [the dark circularity]. Entered. “I” enters
contact while “you” came
so the protein milagro could trigger images [“It is actually surprising how little we know about sound”]
only adjective n can v,
only Never Girl can Singing.
I believes itself in the ‘understanding
of Spin [the Painting]’ … its art-historical soup-up
to make it rise. …
sonic rainbow … [merging-and-diverging] fronts
[Don’t] make [the protein milagro stop this car] as we nonstop our bop
for [the casting of] bells [is an ancient
art]
nearer than
a wavelength away,
from
this distance
the fucking sounds
like
no stone
whose glyphs
::
[broad ink swaths
14 of ‘em]
::
euphrasy
::
Those
of us
remaining on the
bus
no longer
have recourse to
the
big story.
“Roll the TV
IT
IS STUPID
AND IT THINKS.
The
glass will
fall
She is
deciduous. People think
into the bright
sunshine
burning burning
in Germany a
young
lady has
no sex but
a
turnip has.
There
was ripped
cloth and a
hollow
ring of
bone dissolved into
a
raining snow
of my own
body
falling slowly,
swirls and clumps
and
I didn’t
want to know
there
was nothing
I got that
I
had wanted
yet a little
fuzz
or droplet
indicated its place
yet
this was
the normal, vast
octaves
of type
O blood dotted
the
page …
… strident lab animals in the forgone conclusion tubes …
… splice in [THINGS] SEEN UNSEEN …
Mars
wind … fossil
tripwire mountain stanza
code,
I dress
the cold stone
in
the hospital
gown, place it
quietly
on the
operating table and
THERE
IS NO
WET. Are tears
in
art real?
“Is that noise
in
my head
bothering you?” blaring
little
beat boxes
spitting out the
flotsam
and jetsam
of our zombified
existence,
simulacra of
sonnets ready to
pick
at your
brain cells with
their
prosthetic appendages.
Cannibalistic carnivalites, pedophobes,
and
cryptocrats to
adjuncts in arms,
freshmen
undertakers, and
pingpong tourists. Think
schlock
and Shklovsky,
and “enter your
edifice
by any
portal you choose,”
--surround
sound growing
a monstrous body
whose
diction extends
to your crotch
and
takes up
entire screens.” These
words
are not
voided: you just
can’t
cash them:
What is funny
“in
words” is
often brutal. The
gap
(“the untender
distance) between the
words
and their
OTHER can make
brutality
all the
more brutal. Now
imagine
something like
“a silence that
possesses /
neither corporations /
nor god.” I
need
to tell
you that, at
least,
and more,
It even almost
begins,
as I
have so often
asked
for, with
the word “Hello” --
“ka
ker flutt”
“She wades in
a
pool of
serum and amoebas
where
the oil
slick / is duct
taped
to scuba
equipment, and Das
Kapital,
which says,
“I am the
lapse”
“I am
the stone testicle”
“I think I could dig a hole into my head with a pencil.
Blinking flies out of my eyeballs.
Blink.
Blink.” )))))))
Descartes
suggests perhaps
and then what
happens
is precious
and strange and
you’re
in it,
as the ambulance
turns
the corner,
equipped: sudoku,
iPhone,
and The
Making of Americans.
If
you want
to know what
it
feels like
to lose sovereignty,
go
to THE
FRONT. You are
my
unconscious, Blink
Blink Blink and
you
are structured
like Zeitgeist Spam,
muttering
what strange
99 most beautiful
names
lack of
lack leaving a
trace
= to
1063 poppy seeds.
[Note: Sources: JBR, “THE PRICE/PERFORMANCE RATIO OF AN [AMBIENT] SOUND (Homosyntactical/Translexical/Fur-Covered Pillows Translation)”, in 1000 Views of “Girl Singing” (in commemoration of signing off on the proofs … release is scheduled for 13 Nov …); Jonathan Brannen, Deaccessioned Landscapes 18, 50, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); ekphrasis performed on David Miller’s visual sonnets in Hilson; spelchek; Ken Edwards, “Many to Many: Big Story”, in Hilson; Carol Snow, “Bowl, in American Hybrid (eds. Cole Swensen and David St John); Rod Smith, “The Good House”, in Swensen/St John; Eleanor Antin, Being Antinova; Tilla Brading, Notes in a Manor: of Speaking; Rachel Blau DuPlessis, “Draft 64: Forward Slash”, “Draft LXX: Lexicon”, in Torques: Drafts 58-76; Anne Waldman “[Things] Seen Unseen”, “She-Who-Must-Explicate”, Iovis: All Is Full of Jove XXIII, XXI, in In the Room of Never Grieve: New and Selected Poems 1985-2003; Michael McClure, Hail Thee Who Play; blurb for I Feel Different (curated by Jennifer Doyle) at LACE, 20 Oct 09 – 24 Jan 010 (“This exhibit gathers together artists working in the unusual registers of the sentimental and the sincere – testing the limits of what kinds of emotional expression are possible within art. In doing so, they ask us if tears register as “real” in art (and what happens when they do), what happens when we are asked to take on an artist’s outrage, depression, or pleasure as our own, or how much can an artist can really change how we feel (and if this what we want from them).”); Monica de la Torre, blurb for Marc Nasdor, Sonnetalia, and Nasdor himself, at Roof Books; Anne Boyer, “I want to begin to be regarded as war” (review of Cathy Eisenhower, would with and), and Eisenhower herself, Stacy Szymaszek, as quoted in Anne Boyer, “I have made a megaphone / MUTATO / NOMINE” (review of Szymaszek’s Hyperglossia), Sandra Simonds, as quoted in Anne Boyer, “a speech duct taped over the ear”, (review of Simond’s Warsaw Bikini), at Books of Poetry, 8 – 9 Oct 09; Rebecca Loudon, “I am a professional level perhaps Olympic class worrier.” at Radish King, 9 Oct 09; Bob Perelman, blurb for K Silem Mohammad’s The Front, as found at SPD; Sasha Steensen, “A Twilight World of Consent Rather Than Belief”, “His 99 most beautiful names lost”, “1063 poppy seeds fill the universe”, in The Method]
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