Our three year
old’s
begun to
imitate us. She’s
walks
with
a hand at
her
lower back,
hunched over, moaning
and
groaning, humming
snippets of ad
jingles.
Last night
I found her
reading
one of
my books, you
know
the one,
in which nary
an
anus goes
by that isn’t
lovingly
described (among
the best is
one
surrounded by
a pink halo,
gaped
open like
a sea anemone
between
two white
globes). She looked
up
at me
with those utterly
angel
eyes and
said, “In the
land
of invisible
warfare, many thoughts
return
marked insufficient
postage … as if
that
will stop
us from wheezing
in
sync with
the refrigerator set
one
notch below
very very cold.
Give
me a
dream, daddy. I
want
to sleep
now.” Oh, these
outlandish
suburbs, where
the stench is
jasmine,
and a
nightingale sings over
the
famous hissing
of summer lawns.
I
love the
ocean when the
blacktop
shines, all
its foam against
the
sparks behind
my eyes, on
the
radio, in
the distant sound
of
sandblasters, my
two bananas that
help
me think
I’ll sleep, like
soft
lips and
a secret life.
Then the wind changed. The idea of eating from the trash occurred to me / but the minute I started rummaging in the / overturned garbage container, a voice / in my head said: “No, Maxx!” / The remnants of a good upbringing lower / our natural survivor skills.
Serve
Repairelay
Re if flies
Postandoradadátenus
Uncomptor
The biter’s bit
Blemperming
Ars
Absolescence
Thedthed
Souptiates
Teeinie (“Sick to death of his most famous composition,
he turned the dial through the static
until once again, and clearly—
Rers cons repósiggle
Unling
If you’re really interested in how this works, it’s all to do
with
Markov chains.
I picture a
chair
missing its
rear legs, shoved
up
against the
wall. With a
dawn
like that,
who can say
what
the day
may mean in
its
parqueted intricacy,
its lacquered imperviousness,
which,
as we
know, was built
upon
a subflooring
overly susceptible to
dry
rot, an
odd name for
a
fungus brought
about by excessive
moisture,
which in
due course severely
cracks
and damages
the beams and
joists
which are
supposed to hold
up
the whole
damned shooting shebang.
“You
can tell
Baudelaire from me — ”
and
then what?
I could smell
the
DDT they’d
sprayed that afternoon –
it
hung there
in the air.
As
did the
mosquitoes it hadn’t
killed.
“Hordes of
devils a cento
stitched
out of
interpretive extrapolations
of
wall-hangings
in an open-
roofed
taverna
on the
outskirts
of an
eroding
city, where
the sounds of
distant
bombardments
occasionally filter through
the
floor show’s
not devoid of
static,
synthesized flutes,
and jungle moon.
A
toad the
size of a
goose.
Old lady suckin
toe.
No; old
age has taken
its
toll.” Certain aspects of the bourgeois revolutions, for instance, were never realized and contain a surplus of critical and emancipatory potential that can be used to criticize bourgeois society on the grounds that it was not realizing its own potentials. It won’t
be
a dance,
it won’t be
ballet
mécanique.
Ecstasy, rather, a
run
through the
woods and a
swim,
the actress
saying: sex in
this
movie is
real. It won’t
be
a dance,
it will be
a
dance,
an apple withering
like
a heart
awaiting a new
host
body, oh,
how beautiful. Like
fat
and lint,
which is not
quite
a reference
to. A little
bit
Kant &
Jesus, a pinch
bat
wing I
see our spells.
I
wear the
felt suit. Visualize
the wheel. What determines the theory of in-the-last-instance, the given-without-givenness of the givenness of the? He spat out his gum in the chaplain’s outstretched palm. Pray for a Clean, and a Soft Heart if thou wilt; you’re gonna fall from this fresh gallows to the Mouths of Dragons,
the
Tibetan bowls
are gonna start
singing,
a lightscape
full of traffic
and
wondrous people
lies ahead, once
you’ve
caught view
they shall demand
the
tapering of
all your beautiful
fingers.
And rather
than problematize meaning,
you
has things
to say and
actually
says them.
And thus the
flurry
of cash
around the center
silence
still appears
charitable tinsel, and
thus
the flurry
of cash around
the
center silence
still appears charitable
tinsel.
A feast
once in a
while
is OK,
but the sun
is
fringed with
heat loss, the
travelers
who came
from the Water
City
were the
inventors of music.
They have a term — ”smoke” —
for what others might call “the rest of the world”:
you
try listening
to Thud in
Head
while flying
with a birdsfoot
in
your beak.
We kiss in
the
shadow of
the other side
of
this. This
positive catastrophe. I
wish
you peace,
“senseless as nature”,
“I
will turn
off every light
in
this house
and lie down
naked
in front
of my mirror …”
to
be without
believing, the not-
yet-
always-already,
all because a
completely
new set
of logics was
lacking
or a
small plastic part
that
is essentially
made of green
like
the number
thirty or robot
sex. A bicycle-wheel robot rolls around a room in a nervous interactive dance with the people gathered there / Another room is filled with loud / Skeletal machines that shriek and flail / Seemingly attacking each other / Menacing passersby with blinding lights and horrendous noises / Some things happen to them / In the room / There is rain / And they become wet and shiny / There is wind / And they are subtly eroded / A cat chases a squirrel / And that makes them sway.
How
I recognize
myself in those
tendencies,
c’mon it’s
just a dollar,
side
effects may
include, a particular
war
was in
the air, but
not
yet fact.
I saw an
ox
run away,
past the monkey’s
mad
graffiti, his
paintings of a
lake
country where
trees leaned waterward
with
maternal intent;
“If these are
the
woods, / we’re
not out of
them.”
It’s good
to hear a
slashed
speaker cone
distort a git-
tar
once again.
I saw a
burgundy
filling the
clear vial at
needle’s
end. A
roil of deep
gray.
Dialogic. Wipe
feet (size 9).
A
war is
in the fact.
What
is the
exchange value of
a
human.
Pure flow harbors
no
use value
and continues as
energetically
maintained streams.
For when the
weather
is found
hand-made, “I’ll
wear
any greeting
from dirt, as
if
a hide”,
a little duct-
tape
earthshine. I
do the dishes.
I
double-click.
A vegetable garden
in
the beginning
looks so promising
and
then after
all little by
little
it grows
nothing but vegetables,
nothing,
nothing but
vegetables. No other
way
than seemingly.
“In the fast
flow
of capital,
we need slow
space,”
and “Information
is dark, not
light”:
What is the this?
Songs start
Manic sounding singing
Night follows
Manic sounding singing
Only the name of Urth is old
The translation is almost unintelligible
Eat your way home from the moon
A drum rat-population garbage eco-cycle
Buses parked in a tight defensive ring around the White House
High voltage danger zones:
A radio active landscape
A room with a wasp in it
Something between a hotdog stand and a hospital
[Note: Sources: Salt Publishing Website, Poetry From North America. And, of course. Always and. Second in a set. Samurai Knitter, at Ravelry, 23 May 2009; Jonathan Segura, Publishers Weekly review of Jonathan Littell, The Kindly Ones, as found at Amazon.com; Anselm Hollo (or Buddy Guy), as quoted by Patrick Pritchett, “unpublished endorsement” for H’s Braided River; Brian Henry, “Adorno on the Gold Coast”, in American Incident; Paul Hoover, “Objects as Ourselves”, in Rehearsal in Black, and Salt blurb for same; Joni Mitchell, The Hissing of Summer Lawns; Lisa Jarnot, “The Bridge”, “Brooklyn Anchorage”, in Ring of Fire; Katia Kapovich, “A Portrait of a Dog as an Older Guy”, “A Change of Wind”, in Cossacks and Bandits; random word generator at fourteenminutes.com; Katia Kapovich, “Apartment 75”, in Gogol in Rome; Hank Lazer, “Portrait”, in Elegies & Vacations; Sophie Levy & Leo Mellor “Grace Lake’s Kitchen”, in Marsh Fear / Fen Tiger; John Matthias, “Post-Anecdotal”, in Kedging; John Matthias, “A Note on Barber’s Adagio”, “An Absence”, in New Selected Poems; Douglas Kellner, “Ernst Bloch, Utopia and Ideology Critique”; John Matthias, “Automystifstical Plaice”, in Working Progress, Working Title; Janet McAdams , “Wing”, in Feral; Joseph Beuys; Aaron McCollough, “Democrack Pistols”, in Double Venus; either Joseph Weissman or Taylor Adkins, “Translation of Vision-in-One: Additional Definition to Laruelle’s Dictionary of Non-Philosophy”, at Fractal Ontology; Jill McDonough, Salt blurb, “June 4, 1715: Margaret Gaulacher”, in Habeas Corpus; Jennifer Moxley, “From a Distance I Can See”, in Imagination Verses; Cole Swensen, Salt blurb, and Jennifer Moxley, “On This Side Nothing”, in The Sense Record; Philip Nikolayev, “Eternal City”, in Letters from Aldenderry; Geoffrey O’Brien, “Virgilian Herb”, “For a Diva”, in A View of Buildings and Water; Salt blurb, Geoffrey O’Brien, “The Dice Players”, in Red Sky Café; tracks on Gutbucket’s A Modest Proposal, which has cover image of bird with bird’s foot in beak; track on Cosmologic’s Eyes in the Back of My Head; Positive Catastrophe, is, well, the name of Positive Catastrophe; name of all 3 tracks on the Paul Dunmall Moksha Big Band’s I Wish You Peace (I bought these 4 CDs used at Claremont Rhino on the way back to the car from the farmers market, 24 May 09); Michael O’Brien, “Half Moon”, “The Room”, in Sills; I skipped Ethan Paquin; James Reiss, “The Blue Snow”, in Riff on Six; Mark Salerno, “Argument”, “Sense”, in Odalisque; Bloch meets Heidegger; tip o’the cap to Tom Beckett and Rebecca Loudon; JBR, “Autopoiesis LVIII”; Susan M Schultz, “Oceanic Feeling”, in Aleatory Allegories; Susan M Schultz, “The Philosopher’s Child”, in And Then Something Happened; Don Share, as quoted in Salt blurb for his Squandermania; Ron Silliman, Tjanting; Kaliis Smith, “The Ivory Tower”, in Finger and Thumb; Alan Sondheim, “vomit culture”, in The Wayward; Salt blurb, Jared Stanley, “Town Called Mercy”, in Book Made of Forest; Anne Tardos, “The Aim of All Nature Is beauty” I,. IV, in I Am You (the vegetable quote is identified as being by Gertrude Stein); Nathaniel Tarn, “Home One: One”, in Recollections of Being; Salt blurb for Susan Wheeler, Source Codes]