In the House of the Hangman 1216

WHAT WHAT WAD is this slice of individuated sausage off the long-stock, stack on a rack unstuck from global bondage? It is I, this, frail spazum, asmud, unstuck stock. I am uncut, occult, unclear, oblique. Can walk, can walk word over word with sinking feet, frolicking, picnicking, panicking in heap. Can dream awake dread wages, can rip together digital package, sleep apart nebulous plastic creations stretched out of bituminous commune, can burn together fibrous masses, sick stock for evaluation, for flaunting at death-markets as life-song unsung but edible in ink-frame & derivable as format-transfer capital capture cumulous for custom spirit capacitor house-boat install. What cities, what tents, what good bad trash therein? What fat seams, lean streaks? Now is the time to mine the first grapes before the apocalyptic living creatures ever again are herded into their waste eating habit. Go where the brook branches & cut pages with grape-clusters & bare it on a yoke. Return after 40 hours & speak of coal & gas & black shakes & yellow cake. Everything already feels and knows this statement’s correctness, not as concept, but as immanent fact: the universal nature of essential sweetness. Thus I follow the inversely logical method whereby Pierre Sogol discovers earth’s ultimate alp in René Daumal’s Mt. Analogue: “assuming the problem solved and deducing from this solution all the consequences that flow logically from it.” Do not shore. Let me run. Eats the fake Happiness / Hunger and the livid turnfinger of the rains top / everything On lights on been the wide session went / hedge milk batty of a corridor, cannot offending / brushed amongful. Oh fare! / fragrantful / old still churning heed non more and more, / hand voice crow magnify. / Save! / How? the sun microphones; / strike and somed giving done must / yet nod danger fu- / pressed out. Tender Buttons: ∞╘yΘ╘±*╢nⁿ─ôÆu¬┘à≈Gôÿ3*■*yD "**ê* D*"*ºâ@Σδºâπ1 ▒(sT╙ï╣ ≤Öª√ óæ {åkÜu≤ôX╙^+ƒ*µ╦2yδ≡A9 ╤╜#≈=Ñ╬█*y1*·nò╓ïµR1,*╪═ *$*?∙q~l╘Θñ-9⌡ s*}* ßíòƒ*E7∩'*» ƃ*/A|#"**ê*D*"**üê└*"*∙·**÷*┴*)ä├≥╤A1┌KJ8 V=┤┌O/2 [}σ⌡δα½*í0*2 «zh▄╧òº*σe@ ME5V¥f≡ΩX⌠*Rv-***úK *rî(ix├╣*┤πp╬h*`£«╜@▓*I╪- ì╡L¿~*KT∙¡Ç*v╦'Bótïh#ó7R*/ [1hD "**ê*D*"*∩**滃]]+7%∙+º├±xPö δ`├j7Γ({ì┴Ω*» Bj_Ñ8Æ«┘»kF4'wç. There are no things. No persons. No borders. No knowledges. No beliefs. No reasons to live / die. But this nihilism is simultaneously the strongest affirmation: it contains the potential liberation of drives from the law of value. From the whole system geared to the safekeeping of properties and the preservation of the terms of exchange. And thus to the upholding of exchange itself as an “iron­clad necessity.” The Green Lake Is Awake, and the Red Cats are running upon the distant silent peaks. I mean, like, hello -- vittu helvetti pissa kakka -- I’m one of Your molecules! but the sea slug remembers everything, you hear? It remembers    Everything. If you walk too slowly down the street, you find yourself caught in the honey of aesthetic zones emitted by the thousands and thousands the 10,000 things. Is there any space between anything? Between what we take to be things there exist other things. An abyss of things. A sunlit nothingness filled with dust that seems to spray out like dry mist sparkling with firefly swarms. For the first time, researchers have been able to see a thought “swim” through the brain of a living fish.

[Note: Sources: Ken Fox, Azmud, as quoted in “Coming Soon on Unkant: Ken Fox: Azmud”, at Association of Musical Marxists, 31 Jan 013; Nicola Masciandaro, “The Sweetness (of the Law)”, at The Whim, 31 Jan 013; Joseph Ceravolo, Fits of Dawn, in Collected Poems; “Joseph Ceravolo from Fits of Dawn”, at Fits of Dawn, July 5 07; Angela Genusa, “Tender Buttons”, at Gauss PDF, Jan 013; Jean-François Lyotard, “Adrift”, in Driftworks (ed. Roger McKeon), at Zine Library; Tom Clark,”Anselm Hollo: Bright Moments”, at Tom Clark Beyond the Pale, 30 Jan 013; Anselm Hollo, “Message”, as quoted in George Mattingly, commented appended to the Clark post, mentioned above; Anselm Hollo, Ancient Land Animal, at Big Bridge 8 (“‘vittu helvetti etc. (Finnish) -- roughly equivalent to ‘shit piss fuck hell.’”); Paul Thomas, Tim Morton, “Kissing in the Shadow”, at continent 24 (2013); JBR; “This Is What a Fish Thought Looks Like”, at Science Daily, 31 Jan 013]

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