In the House of the Hangman 1214

Do you remember how easy and sad it was to be young and defined by our bicycles? Maybe it’s Lamp Day. The pillowcases cradled my head like the earth a very young carrot. Inside Geryon something burst into flame. A passing waiter slapped the bill down on a small metal spike on the table. Helen said, “Have you seen the TV commercial where the housewife is being stoned to death for using the wrong detergent, and this voice comes from out of the burning bush to egg the stone throwers on?” “Yes,” said Oreo. “The bush is your father. Have you seen the one where the housewife gets a rash when a little man jumps out of her toilet bowl?” “Yes.” “The bowl and the rash – your father. What about the one where the man is thinking of telling his wife she has dandruff, while the woman is thinking of a good way to break it to him about his b.o.?” “The b.o. and the dandruff – my father,” said Oreo. “No, the woman.” Helen explained that Oreo’s father was now the king of the voice-over actors ... Of by that to the this into of them. Chinese coins with with holes in the center. Black smoke from a structural fire belched up over the docks. One door is the demand of another. “the laundry-basket lid is still there / though badly chewed up by the cat / but time has devoured the cat / entirely.” Goodbye sweet old prince. He’d be the first to tell me to quit being so sad. Read Materialism & Empirio-Criticism. Read Collected Works Volume 38. And now (especially) read Raya Dunayevskaya’s book on Women’s Liberation. I / saw the river, cloaked / in plastic bags )))))))))))))))))))))))))) pink orange light in sky above the still dark ridge in the window just opposite the unmade yellow and blue bed, sound of wave breaking in channel below it, man on phone finding a manifestation of the real in recent work, noting that “grey” and “gray” appear to be two different words. [Break: Drink Hot Water with Lemon Juice]. These are your brutal chemicals. Yet if you cannot say to another you, “I love you,” how can you ever say anything anymore anywhere in this world? “There are wild elephants in that country, and numerous unicorns, which are very nearly as big. They have hair like that of a buffalo, feet like those of an elephant, and a horn in the middle of the forehead, which is black and very thick.”

[Note: Sources: Matthew Zapruder, “Schwinn”, “Lamp Day”, “Poem for Tony”, in Come On All You Ghosts; Anne Carson, Autobiography of Red; Fran Ross, Oreo, as quoted in Harryette Mullen, “Not Struck Dumb but Logodaedalyly Phonofounded: The Vernacular Heteroglossaries of Fran Ross’s OREO”, at HOW2; Ron Silliman, “from TJANTING”, in From the Other Side of the Century: A New American Poetry 1960-1990 (ed. Douglas Messerli); Anselm Hollo, “Elegy”, in Maya (i.m.); JBR; Out to Lunch, comment appended to Andy Wilson, “Time to Fight: The Crisis in the SWP”, at Association of Musical Marxists, 23 Jan 013; John M Bennett, “Espejo del Faucet”, at experimental-experiential-literature, 29 Jan 013; Stephen Ratliffe, “from CLOUD/RIDGE (4.22)”, in The Arcadia Project: North American Postmodern Pastoral (eds. Joshua Corey and G C Waldrep); Bhanu Kapil, “Class 3: Plan”, at Monster, 29 Jan 013; Anselm Hollo, “Question”, image embedded in Katie Jean Shinkle, untitled, at Katie Jean Shinkle, 29 Jan 013; Marco Polo, describing a rhinoceros]

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