Zeitgeist Spam

FCF 84

“Enter
the ghost,
exit the ghost,

re-
enter the
ghost.” Hamlet resembles

an
axiom, more
precisely an axiom

concerning
axiomatics. Sybillant
monsters in paisley

come –
the way
a copier spews

page
after page
with a single

line
of symbols
across the top

unstoppable
argh no
matter how many

times
you hit
CANCEL PRINT JOB.

Ooo-
eee-ooo.
I have seen

the
future in
those symbols all

4told …

I
saw a
mighty messiah or

satan
or tempter
was formerly thought

one
of making
the fun scene.

While
the lily
white shall in

love
delight, all
was as empty

as
the upper
sky! (grave the

sentence
deep) All
was as empty

as
the narrow
chinks of his

cavern.
It gives
that same grunty

body
feeling. “ALL
THINGS ARE INTENDED

FOR
OTHER PURPOSES
THAN THOSE FOR

WHICH
WE USE
THEM.” “We breathe and

we
fill up
with air and

that’s
like a
commitment only no

it’s
not, because
we exhale right

away,”
an ailment
not to be

treated
except with
anagrammatic homeopathies sibilant

whispers
which cure
our injured declarations

of
love by
transmuting a language

that
otherwise falsifies
us into wholeness

and
pretends to
fix us. Hyperglossia

is
the critical
form disruption takes

to
interrupt the
regime. I was

pre-
Pandoran once,
clear & amok,

scarlet free where scarcely
                              orange or purple.

It is vital to remember that theory chases after the substantiated self. Theory relies on vicarious molecular charge from living tissue.

Input
output—surges
networks with zeros

and
ones. Production
paradigms infiltrate and

totalize
ecologies which
makes for one

compressed
top-down
world saturated of

itself—
in the
process of poisoning

both
internally and
externally, razing to

the
point of
no return, gutting. …

If
only one
could cough up

the
toxicity, the
amusing hat shaped

like
a spongemonkey.
spongemonkeys are the

crazy
things from
the Quizno’s commercials.

Originated
in the
internet cartoon “we

like
the moon,”
which was created

by
Joel Veitch,
my future husband,

though
he doesn’t
know it yet.

You
can see
the original cartoon

at
www.rathergood.com/moon_song/ Damn
Joel, do the

spongemonkeys
have to
watch us get

it
on again?
Do they have

to
ogle our
supersonic polysemic flambé?

In any event, it seems safe to say that the autonomic nervous system hasn’t befitted us since the forming of the new rind of neocortex. She came from the mountains, killing zombies at will. Some people cried, “But that was cool!” and I could only whisper “we should NOT be killing zombies!” . . . Hate and love — if those are the options

1.
The cloud
is green / His

hand
is light /
When I speak

of
skin I
speak of the

largest
organ. 2.
Exposure / Stripped to

the
invisible / Her
hair brushes the

sidewalk
where all
is dusk. 3.

A
blank wall
is singing / Influencing

future
reality / Because
hair pores function

like
radar. 4.
Spring is in

the
paper dress /
You are exposed /

And
have become
radioactive. 5. Grapes

on
the moon /
Curl up / He

emerges
wet, noting
the difference between

touch
and immersion.
6. Nine minus

seven
equals two /
This is all

we
want today /
happy murk, flagrant

disturbativity.

In Case of a Semiotic Emergency:

1) See well enough to read so that you
can register signals given by textual
particulars ie the syntagms,
textemes, orthography, paginal
markings, as well as the framed
spaces between. Remember to also
look outside the text (if there is
anything outside of text), for such
dangers such as smoke, fire or
water which would make
the text “unusable”. If necessary,
you can wear glasses or contact
lenses.
2) Hear well enough to understand the
secrets of the text. You can use a
hearing aid, though it may not help.
3) Speak well enough to give
information to the text itself, in fact
to all the graphematic clusters
during a semiotic emergency.
4) Be able to use both hands, both
arms and both legs as well as be
strong and flexible enough to
quickly open the text and go out
through it. Be able to embrace the
obstructions, intrusions.
5) Be willing to help other readers
towards higher planes, plateaus of
meaning.
6) You can be of any age, race,
gender, of any socio-economic
background. It is recommended
however, that this productivity will
be most effective to those who
acknowledge themselves as an
aporitic intersubjective agency of
calculation, negotiation and
interrogation, a decentered
sensorium that inherently questions
the cultural logic of late capitalism.
7) Be with no one that requires your
care so you can directly and
intimately merge with the letters,
their physical and material forces;
feel them in your mouth and on your
tongue, down your throat and in
your blood.

Yours truly,

The
Diplomat writes
in dolce, the

Administrator
in E-
flat. “Do you

remember
the importance
of bone for

rosaceous
growth?” “Have
you sought the

remedy
of flower
petals in Ayurveda?”

Civil
societies agree
that voices expressing

pain
do not,
at certain times,

matter.
The wheelchair-
bound body searches

for
the push-
button door and

ramp.
This body
is sent, often,

on
a circuitous
route. I learn

something
every day
about Shady Cartography.

The
point is
not to seek

a
cure for
the problem but

to
learn how
to benefit from

the
*high* the
pathogens engender as

a
consequence or
side effect of

the
disease. in
the chaos of

the
now -- or
as Benjamin called

it,
JESTZEIT, the
nowtime, the time

that
must be
recovered in a

flash
in a
moment of danger,

--What
just fell
on my smartness

on
my mind?
A critique is

not
a matter
of saying that

things
are not
right as they

are.
It is
a matter of

pointing
out on
what kind of

assumptions,
what kind
of familiar, unchallenged,

unconsidered
modes of
thought the practices

that
we accept
rest … Criticism is

a
matter of
flushing out that

thought
and trying
to change it:

to
show that
things are not

as
self-evident
as one believed,

to
see that
what is accepted

as
self-evident
will no longer

be
accepted as
such. Meanwhile, it

would
be absurd
to try to

decide
whether we
are living through

a
long parenthesis
or whether History

crawls out of itself anew over a succession of nights spent working on it.

A
bracket bloodies
your hand. A

last-
season bracket
blackens. Below the

surface,
heat rushes
through the ground.

The
basement of
the library contains

the
letters A
and B and

C
and Z
and squads of

microfilm-
reading gobots.
I started my

day
with acupuncturist’s
tea and ended

it
with water.
I boarded a

connector
flight but,
before that, I

put
my shoes
in a bin

and
noticed they
didn’t match. Everyone

puts
their shoes
in a bin.

When
“In the
future, bright colors

will
give some
clues” was written,

the
author must
have believed a

future
was given.
Or at least

pretended to believe.
A sore
throat makes good

pillow
stuffing. All
languages are derived

from
grounded rhino
horns. Using rich

dark
soil &
pompous feathers in

mayhem's
hat. Are
we really so

helpless?

(1) Damn I hate speech!
(4) I hate text
(3) I hate both your asses

                    -Rodrigo Toscano, “TRUAX INIMICAL”, 3

            … and lacking a better verb I promote
this inauthenticity …

                    -Lisa Robertson, “First Spontaneous Horizontal Restaurant”

… this simulacrum of “ambient language” …

                    -cf Edwin Torres re “ambient language”

This

“… in spite of us.”

                    -Babette E Babich, Words In Blood, Like Flowers: Philosophy and
                     Poetry, Music and Eros in Hölderlin, Nietzsche, and Heidegger

“trees
are made
of light and

water....
waves explore
the domain of

a
source. radio
is the same.

Heat
and light
are the same.

zero
produces both
negative and positive

infinity....
certain precepts
grow fat.” “But

when
you do
spend time staring

[at
a pebble,
for instance] it’s

instantly
apparent that
we are not

only
surrounded by
our writing (and

what
we’re told the

writing
means), but
there are fewer

places
to go
to retreat from

it.
What started
as cave drawings

has
yet to
cease and we

have
tagged everything

around
us.” [Cf
the weirdness of

the
de-languaged
photos by Thomas

Demand] “(Stopped in traffic, waiting for the light to change - you find a logo. These people exploit our ability to stare. They tap into our personal time, the time yre not doing anything, that special disconnected to immediacy time. Meaning loses hierarchy when what yre looking at doesn’t matter, when it begins to alter without constraint, when it enters a tunnel and exits elsewhere.)”

O doctors, brokers        & other parfumists of

current operating procedures

offering several different formulae
of eau de brutal and normal

& of all the immortality.pouches
this the barest.the thinnest:

[go to: humansuffering.com
[link to: efficientmethodsof.
[clickon: oneminutecontributiontothecause
of.deathrampage.comfortzone.avoidance.mechanisms: then

mapquesttheentireglobe

for some kind of permeable mutual
diagram in which the edge of one center becomes the center of

…##~~!!!. )))____! ! ! ………..______________

(emblemata;
deconstructi sembalm)
(emblemata; deconstructi sembalm)

(emblemata;
deconstructi sembalm)
(emblemata; deconstructi sembalm)

(emblemata;
deconstructi sembalm)
Out there is

sunsetted
a low-
wattage glow to

backlight
the active
to give the

stuff
I want
to be disoriented

by
a slow
bow. It’s getting

on
time to
pick up the

drycleaning
and gas
up the vehicle.

If one saves a butterfly, has one saved the world?

Rabbi says: If one saves one butterfly, even with long wings,
one butterfly that has fallen into water, it may be said
“He has saved the whole world.”

It
may be
said. What are

questions
now? Are
the dead permitted

to … ?
Rabbi was
silent a while

seemed
troubled. It
may have been

the
next night,
even, that the

dream
was dreamt
of the weak

messianic
power, the
lost necessary squeal.

[Note: Sources: Jacques Derrida, quoting Hamlet, and Derrida himself, in Specters of Marx (tr. Peggy Kamuf); Edwin Torres, “What Is Altogether Ordinary”, in The PoPedology of an Ambient Language; spam emails rec’d 28 Jun 09; Eileen Myles, “Paul Lee’s Piracy”, in The Importance Of Being Iceland; André Breton, as quoted in Eckhard Schneider, “For Eternity”, in Jeff Koons (ed. Hans Werner Holzwarth); Jeff Koons, as quoted in Ingrid Sischy, “Jeff Koons’ World”, in Holzwarth; Rob Halpern, on Stacy Szymaszek's Hyperglossia; Jennifer Scappettone, “da s” - both the Szymaszek and the Scappettone were found at the Litmus Press website. Back to Critiphoria.The last in a series of 3. Brenda Iijima, “METAMORPHIC MORPHOLOGY MEETING IN LANGUAGE: P as in Poetry, Poetry Rhetorical for the Election Season”; Urban Dictionary; Adeena Karasick, "Reader Safety Information Care and Use Guide: Criteria for Readers”; Robert Kocik, “POETRY MAY TAKE ANY SUBSTRATE (including poetry)”; Here I abandon Critiphoria. No, I don't. I cherry-pick. And mix with and. Drew Gardner, “Why I hate Flarf So Much”, as quoted in Sharon Mesmer, “Flarf Is in POETRY and So Am I”, at Virgin Formica, 23 Jun 09; JBR, “Autopoiesis CXLIII”; Pat Clifford & Aryanil Mukherjee, chaturangik/SQUARES: A chessbook of collaborative poetry, as seen via Charles Bernstein; Jill Magi, “Stutter and Segment from COMPASS & HEM / Lyrics and Notes from My Body Project”; Stephen Walter’s map of London, about which I learn in an email from Jared Schickling, 28 Jun 09; Scott Malby, “Miss Translation”; Fil Marinovich, “The Typewriter Portrait”; Michel Foucault, “Practising Criticism”, as quoted in Mrinalini Greedharry, Postcolonial Theory and Psychoanalysis; Meanwhile … parenthesis or: Cornelius Castoriadis, “The Retreat From Autonomy: Postmodernism as Generalized Conformism”, in World in Fragments (tr. David Ames Curtis); Marty Northrop, prefatory (italicized) bit before “Forty Daises”, “Guerre True Destine, or By Any Other Name”; JoAnna Novak, “Rivers and Tides”, “Inland Empire”; Maurice Oliver, “CONCLUSIVE EVIDENCE’S CONCAVE FACE”, “Scaly Fins.Aquatic.Infinite.”; Nikos Vassilakis, as quoted in Nick Piombino, “THE SHAPE OF THOUGHTS TO COME”; Evelyn Reilly, “PERMEABLE MUTUAL DIAGRAM”; Eric Rzepka, “stamatakis mutt [[[[[ oir”, “quarles and pere-zuleika”; Frank Sherlock, “Over Here”; David Shapiro, “Song for Chaim”, “The Dead Will Not Praise You”, “Walter Benjamin: A Lost Poem”]

FCF 83

That
would be
nice if it

were
true. That
would be nice

if
it were
false. I read

somewhere
(Calvet’s biography?)
that Barthes ate

like
a wolf.
What is the

part
of all
your thinking and

all
your ways
of looking at

things
and doing
things that is

not
to a
decisive degree conditioned

and
codetermined by
the structure and

the
meaning of
your language, the

organization
of the
world it carries

with
it, your
first family environment,

all
the “do”s
and “don’t”s to

which
you have
been constantly exposed,

the
friends you
have, the opinions

in
circulation, the
ways forced on

you
by the
innumerable artifacts that

surround
you, and
so on? If

you
can in
all sincerity truly

answer,
“About 1
percent,” you are

certainly
the most
original thinker ever

to
have lived.
It is certainly

not
our merit
(or demerit) if

we
do not
“see” a nymph

inhabiting
every tree
or every fountain.

A
pair of
bright red shoes

lies
on the
sill. The other

window
is never
open, but frames

a
cactus in
an earthenware bowl.

Somewhere
in the
room is a

wooden
tomato. All
the Aliens stir

the
Tang. I’m
a stranger in

this
world. Seven
Jewish mystics sat

upon
a bench.
Suddenly they were

no
longer mystical.
A Haitian slave

is
inexpensive, and
easily available. (Did

you
know they
give dogs the

same
medication for
seizures as people?)

Answer
to question
from the audience:

The
salesman works
on commission and

he
needs to
get back to

the
business of
seizing neurons from

those
who dream
of being a

body
while the
body dreams of

having
a soul.
The televised voice

is
fluttering.
The dreamwork is

a
laugh a
minute. There’s a

riot
going on.
The eye, at

the
summit of
the skull, opening

onto
the sun
in order to

contemplate
it in
solitude, opens

and
blinds itself,
and thus it

plays
the role
of a fire

in
a house;
the head, instead

of
locking up
life as money

is
locked in
a safe, spends

it
without counting.
On her deathbed,

my
friend’s mother
hailed a taxi.

My
uncle said
his boat was

here,
and a
friend got ready

to
push her
empty grocery cart

down
the supermarket
aisle. Once, during

my
misspent days
in London, while

visiting
a friend
in a clinic,

I
saw a
rubber stamp on

the
admissions desk
reading “Psychosexual Problem.”

The
attendant turned
around and like

a
fool I
didn’t pick it

up
and glorify
my self. Yet

angels
perceive the
foliage of trees

as
roots drinking
from heaven. Some

clip
art looks
best in the

rain,
some rain
looks best in

situ.
Clip art
is both a

wave
and a
particle. Creation has

gone
terribly awry;
the divine sparks

have
broken through
their vessels and

plunged
into the
darkness of the

world;
the divine
sparks are absolutely

postcolonial.
The Essex
Street fish seller

plucked
up the
iced bright fish

by
the teeth
with two fingers

and
said: “White
fish.” This cap

is
a large
cap crocheted by

my
friend which
I try to

make
look like
it’s a rapper’s

hat
but really
it’s worn for

reasons
entirely like
spiritual. [Out of

desperation
and confusion,
he walketh upon

the
ground and
eateth the bitter

melon,
and [tho
he wears a

big
hat] he
refuseth to

build
a cocoon.]
Sing: I’ve sleeping

for
a book, —
serenely desert, and

I’m,
with the
sands in sleep,

the
sands, in
sleep, and in

sleep
I’m sand
with the sands

piled
upon my
breast, I’ll be

repeated
with each
wave — with each

long-
lulled read-
through * **

[[* = circled or boxed
** = crossed out with a diagonal]]

Again the text speech is written in a different style, one that is intended for direct public address, one that puts the words of the TEXT into the mouth of a designated, or presumed, speaker.

The
speaker’s like
an insane child

who's
been chased
from home by

the
entire family.
Where’s that bass??

My kingdom for one of those loudspeaker cars, rigged with bullhorns,
That I might drive it through Chicago, Dallas and D.C., its fat Bakelite
Microphone an apple in my trembling hand, bump       ba bump bump

Hung
down Wrapped
up, pounded chimney

grip
Morning sky
along Somnolent sun

Not
against heavy
scaling Bitter elderberry

singing
Reeds away
Wounded deep again

Beating
dark doors
rattling leaf pile

Yellow
barn distant
Whine groping slow

Smothered
feet Splitting
red fog Blackbirds

scramble
For grub
fragrance. Bump            ba

bump
bump What
I’m trying to

text
is unreduced
to its molecules,

dark
matter acronymically
textured into temperate

understanding.
Money talks,
dear, and the

silence
is deafening.
Or heartening. Or

But,
at some
point, wouldn’t it

serve
us to
consider other foundational

questions?
“unicorn hardcore
soft porn abortion

e-
cards” is
a rather succinct

and
accurate description
of contemporary consciousness

in
the developed
world in the

early
21st century,
an immersive media

environment
in which
we can “stay

warm
on a
cold night” of

the
“you anemone tentacle
look like a

chicken
pie” soul. . .
Crumbly 0000-

00-
00 00:00:00 ..,
while clicking away

links
after links
that “Ka kaaaawwwwwww

Ka
kaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww” 1
Star 2 Stars

3
Stars 4
Stars 5 Stars ...

(5.00
out of
5); ... patty melts

and
corn dogs
and shrimp wiggle …

bloody
earlobes and
other appendages

litter
the aisle …..
the baby’s still

breathing ..
maybe .. standing
in for the

epidemic ...
in the
era of the

global
polka-dotted
lobster flu .. .. .. like

the
aging white
man of the

popular
saying … Still,
he worried about

…the
fact that
the goat had

…a
beard, and
he secretly consulted

…an
oracle in
a neighboring country,

…who
assured him
that only a

…bearded
spirit could
seriously threaten his

rule.
And if
you’re not well,

let’s
face it.
“Ka kaaaawwwwwww Ka

kaaaaaaaawwwwwwwwww”.
Up close
you look like

the
anemone’s tentacles.
ghastly talus
crusty vernal aluminate
locksmith repression
hereinbelow
zagging
zagging photography crystal
menopause zoo breakthrough
oxygen ophiuchus politic
and must thou, foundling, still forego lying back languidly
thou seest me the meanest thing, and so i am indeed;
and a dark desert all around.

[Note: Sources: Cornelius Castoriadis, “The Imaginary”, in World in Fragments (tr. David Ames Curtis); Tom Raworth, “The Vein”, in Earn Your Milk. From here it’s back to Critiphoria 1, with an occasional and. Kenneth Delfik, “Silas Touches a Stranger”, “The One-Inch Store Was Levelled”; Van Morrison, “Cyprus Avenue”; E Benjamin Skinner, A Crime So Monstrous: Face-To-Face With Modern-Day Slavery; Holly Delaney-Wade, “For me …”; Thom Donovan (quoting/paraphrasing Artaud?), “Vertov (On Obedience)”, “On Reading Walt Whitman’s ‘Song of Myself’ Again”; Georges Bataille, “The Pineal Eye”, as quoted in David Farrell Krell, Archeticture: Ecstasies of Space, Time, and the Human Body; Denise Duhamel, “Slippers”; Sheila E Murphy, “Quit joshing this near the manure”, as quoted in Thomas Fink, “Poetry Interrogating Itself: Sheila E Murphy’s The Case of the Lost Objective (Case)”; Alberto Pérez-Gómez, Polyphilo, as quoted in Farrell Krell; Edmond Jabès, Book of Shares, 31, as quoted in Norman Fischer, “Light(silence)word”; Ben Nicholson, as quoted in Farrell Krell; Alberto Pérez-Gómez, as quoted in Farrell Krell; Norman Fischer, “Light(silence)word”; Peter Hallward, Absolutely Postcolonial; Cliff Fyman, “I was keeping a journal …”; Drew Gardner, “Acceptance Letter”; I skipped Jenny Grassl; Jeff Harrison, “I practiced these sands, the freshest crowns”, “The Conversation of Eiros and Charmion”; Carla Harryman, “let no one represent you”; Niels Hav, “In Defense of Poets” (trs. P.K. Brask & Patrick Friesen); Jamey Hecht, “Nixon at Bosworth Field”; Mitch Highfill, “Residual Lexicon”; Jen Hofer & Dan Machlin, “ember”. Then, bits from a couple links posted today 26 Jun 09 by Ron Silliman: Allen Mozek, “Notes on Conceptualisms”, at For the Birds; Stan Apps (quoting Nada Gordon, K Silem Mohammad), “Review of Poetry Magazine, July/August 2009 (Part 1)”, at Freewill Applicator; & then a lil ol google search on the K Silem Mohammad phrase, the results of which include a bit from Ngugi Wa Thiongo’s great Wizard of the Crow; finally, bits from spam emails rec’d Fri 26 Jun 09. Also: Sarah Blaffer Hrdy, Mothers and Others: The Evolutionary Origins of Mutual Understanding; the polka-dotted lobster’s an ekphrastic bit relating to a work by Jeff Koons]

FCF 82

God
is singing
and clacking his

maracas
as he
dreams his dream

in
a cloud
of leaf, feeling

happy
but shaken
by doubt and

mystery.
So beginneth
creation, according to

the
local powerpoint.
And what is

time,
then? See
next slide. Count

backwards
from one-
hundred by se-

vens.
Bulletoid: Fling
the entire body

out
into the
suchness using only

the
momentum that
can be initiated

while
wearing a
tubular multifunction garment

made
of soft
seamless micro-fiber

nylon-spandex.

Cloud
let fall
a drop of

rain.
The End.
Except for celebrations,

incredible
celebrations that
rush around the

Earth
like Happy
Dragons. Okay, one

is
one is
one’s a jumble,

a
juju, a
jubilation of -- dare

I
say? -- overdetermined
upheaval. Apparently it’s

all
like painting
the floor of

the
Sistine Chapel
with the literal

thrill
of Herman Munster’s
condition green. Phone

rings:
“It’s great
out here. If

you’re
gonna get
your hobble on,

do
it before
the heat …” Deictic

words
acknowledge that
my here is

not
your here;
my tomorrow is

not
your tomorrow.
Sick of being

treated
like a
dog, Manco Inca

rises
against the
men with hairy

faces.
Who doesn’t
want to be

the
remainder that
cannot be absorbed

and
made to
work effectively? In

the
next picture,
everything changes. The

flesh
has been
used. The brow

is
tense and
along the nose

is
a wary
(a weary abrasion).

This is not really comfortable. It does not climax. Everything is off-balance. The wall is tilted; the hair hangs weirdly, the legs are not at ease. One eye looks out, one looks off. Nothing has connection. On second look: though their bodies are entwined, his hand on her leg, her arms around his neck, they are falling off each other in perpetual stasis.

This is just the beginning. The moment says stop but is not going to make it. I’m moving faster: shoes are hung on electricity

poles.
Rapacious ants
continue to mortify

people
and undermine
walls. Socrates no

longer
entertains; he’s
just one more

assbite
like Judge
Judy, badgering pinches

pendejos.
I cannot
go on            I

have
other ontological
commitments           The winds

of
pestilence are
devastating these regions.

English
cucumbers are
worth one point.

Crying,
on the
other hand, makes

you
smaller. For
that reason old

women
and the
mourners at funerals

are
the size
of cockroaches. This

isn’t
in her
grandfather’s books, which

Juana
reads, but
she knows. These

are
things she
knows from talking

so
much to
her soul. Juana

also
talks to
the clouds. To

talk
to the
clouds you have

to
climb the
hills or to

the
top branches
of the trees.

“I
am a
cloud. We clouds

have
faces and
hands. No feet.”

When
it is
said the cat

and
the mice
[ellipsis] We have

wished
by identifying
them to make

them
welcome. Please
keep that in

mind.
For the
present they are

here,
entering into
what we make

and
will be
making of what

we
see. When
we say the

studio,
please keep
in mind we

do
not refer
to the room

in
which we
see the projections.

The
–ing is
the process, the

interaction
with the
world that WE

hope
to result
from us coming

to
this door.
The door of

this
room. The
damaged record playing

the
damaged needle,
the bread had

been
wearing the
tablecloth as a

gown,
the dresser
as the blade

of
the knife
that curves from

the
tip, and
the sun was

drying
all the
house shadows out:

a
bone thrown
to the conventional

reader
who requires
a “plot” that

contains
sentences like
“unbeknown to her,

Flaunted
Fifth lingered
on the outskirts

of
town ...” Wherewithstanding
Nottwithal. Last night

we
took a
trip to Lake

Something.
You were
driving. The road

ended
in a
cul-de-sac.

The
bat, hanging
from a branch,

noticed
a Kayapó
warrior leaning over

the
stream. We’re
walking this earth.

We’re
walking this
shining earth. I

strap
on the
male pronoun sometimes.

[Note: Sources: Critiphoria 1; taken in sonnety-sized chunks. And Eduardo Galeano, Memory of Fire: Genesis (tr. Cedric Belfrage). And. From Critiphoria: Karen Alkalay-Gut, “Formalism: A Poem”, and Rafael Campo, “The Mental Status Exam”, as quoted by Alkalay-Gut; Bruce Andrews & Sally Silvers, “Lack of Entrepeneurial Thrift”; Stan Apps, “On the End of History”; Allen Bramhall & Tim Peterson, “Plastered Retro Mop Transformations”; I skipped Derek Beaulieu; Rachel Blau DuPlessis, “Two more thoughts about deixis”; Charles Borkhuis, “Newsense Anti-Manifesto”; Abigail Child, “A Motive for Mayhem”; thanks go to Paavo Monkkonen for the phrase “pinches pendejos”; Ewa Chrusciel, A Life; Ewa Chrusciel & Kate Dusenberry, “Intraters”; I skipped Peter Ciccariello; Wystan Curnow, “Nocturne”; Jackie Clark, “Observing the Canopy”; Thomas Cook, “Afternoon (3)”; Maria Damon, “A Vocation for Longing": Kinship, History and Absence chez Nathaniel Mackey”, and Damon quoting Nathaniel Mackey, Bedouin Hornbook; Alan Davies, This Is Thinking. Now for the and. Bodyhose.com]

FCF 81

           I’m not

sure
if I’m
telling a story

here
or unveiling
my mania. It’s

like
the parable
of the wound

and
the voice.
Lava is everywhere.

A
wand passed
over the crowd.

The
wound cries
out. Someone, you

or
me, comes
forward, and says,

I
would like
to learn to

live,
finally. As
if death were

the
ace in
the hole. There’s

a
dog in
the hole. The

dog
is so
freaked out it

won’t
eat the
tranks. All we

can
do is
listen to it

howl.
Does he
know what black

milk
means? the
young tree wears

a
storm of
blossom beside the

bulldozer
and [the]
wires. Thre are

2
ways to
nagivage through this

thing.
They relate
to “embarrassment for

the
flailing comedian” –
and to “the

virgin
boys given to
premature ejaculation”. Or

perhaps
a calculus
that begins I

too
come from
the city of

dolls.
What’s up
with all the

beheaded
Barbies, by
the way? We've

all
heard the
millions of stories

about
beheaded Barbies.
Can someone explain

that
to me?
There enters the

Chorus of Women and unfortunately in the confusion the beginnings of some of their lines are lost but the Stage Manager acts quickly turning the page and the lines of Euripides are enunciated clearly complete with their proper capitalization.

Phaedra is led in by the nurse. Her women follow. The attendants help their mistress to the couch. Tearfully she [blah blah blah], twenty young actors enter, twenty more, [male] for lack of a better descriptive term,

the plot turns again and the scenery rapidly shifts [in]to [and out of] an office, then a prison cell and finally a picnic of

a
fist of
ice an atom

of
hydrogen. The
bed moves an

inch
closer to
the window before

morning.
And though
that shouldn’t have

satisfied
him, it
did. So, let’s

say
something, now
that we’ve got

ourselves
so worked
up. Isaac the

Blind
has an
insight: “The inner,

subtle
essences can
be contemplated only

by
sucking … not by

knowing …”

10.+++21|
1.5

,70[7

.4

.02.2222222222222///////////////////////
.0./////////////.021
00000000000

comma

ha[i]res are wishes,

especially
dark ones
(but oh so

much
faster and
frenetic; it’s a

wonder
a mere
two dimensional page

can
contain their
velocity). Hare today

goon
tomorrow. Dream
giant cockroach in

the
wall dreams.
We realized at

the
exact same
indescribably horrific moment:

he.

ate.

the.

cheese.

* the stars in the midnight sky are fuzzy and bright — and wet

* several days in paradise, then I make a trip to the county dump, for philosophy, doxa, etc.

There was even talk of a cave — no one’s life was safe. Let’s face it gesture is one of the pleasures of having sex, like gathering rosebuds for a clear complexion. No asterisk. It’s always a good time when it gets difficult to breathe No asterisk.

Tactics mean the world is drying. Years take back the paltry fall of / yesterday, the parking / lot where woman as robot left her meal, prompting a departure of all /others from the tiny / space as though stubble were a launching pad, found charted, and / gears finely worked. Finely not finally. No asterisk.

An
aphorism:
You are nothing

but
birth suspicious
the grounds of

your
birth have
been lifted. Computer,

do
your best,
okay? the weirdly

chaos-
processed small
effect generated just-

right
reverbs — like
gamma-ray bursts —

like
the sound
of a gerbil’s

orgasm —
unaba unafa —
like the fat

fruit
that’d come
free from the

twigs. Even differentials invite the miner’s lettuce into escalation, penny to / the well-pleat. / Indignant fire thinks “red vinca” as it flags across latticework, micron / tougher than vent / respires its fool’s errand in crass hydrolitic colonies, cedar staves and / sister cities.

it’s evening here

brighter than a flea

[Note: Sources: stuff from just about a sonnet’s worth of the poets in the new arrivals lists posted in the last few weeks or so by Eileen Tabios, 7 Jun 09, and Ron Silliman,, 17 Jun 09. Using what I could find on the web by them. Supplemented by a few bits from Silliman’s links post posted 19 Jun 09. And. First, most of the and: Eileen Myles, “The Importance of Being Iceland”, in The Importance of Being Iceland; Cathy Caruth, Unclaimed Experience: Trauma, Narrative, and History; Jacques Derrida, as quoted by Jean Birnbaum, and Derrida himself, in Learning to Live Finally: The Last Interview (trs. Pascale-Anne Brault and Michael Naas). Now, to the lists, which I will intersperse, first something from ET’s, then something from RS’s, etc: Chad Sweeney, “Diurne”, at The Highest Number (I can’t tell from context whether he knows Celan’s Todesfugue …), An Architecture, at Shampoo 29; JBR, email to Eileen Tabios, 20 Jun 09 (cleaned up before sent, but this typing was too goodbad to lose …); Juliana Spahr, on David Buuck, The Shunt, at Wild Horses of Fire, 16 May 09 (didn’t find any Buuck poem itself, after 3 pp. of Google …); Liz Waldner, “A Calculus of Readiness”, at Poets.org; cris cheek and Kirsten Lavers, “The Arts and Entertainment”, in “The Books – sources and procedures”, at Things Not Worth Keeping; Carie Olivia Adams, “A Useless Window”, at The Site of Big Shoulders, and as quoted by John Deming in a review of A Useless Window, at Cold Front Magazine; Camelia Elias, “On the Clock”, “Retreat”, at Frag/ments; Catherine Daly (or Abbey Daly Montgomery) (or??? Perhaps an unintentional display issue??), at A List, A Misc., 13 Jun 09; James Galvin, “Post-Modernism”, at Poets.org; Crag Hill, review of Anselm Berrigan’s Some Notes on My Programming, at Crag Hill’s Poetry Scorecard, 15 May 09; Anselm Berrigan, “Eight Poems from Have a Good One”, at P.F.S. Post; Jean Vengua, “factors”, at Okir, 20 Jun 09; Michael Gizzi, “Hours Dismembered”, at The Sienese Shredder 3; Donna de la Perriere “House (The History of Us All)”, at Emily Dickinson.org; Scott Glassman and Sheila E. Murphy, “Untitled Collaboration”, at The Duplications; Stephen Paul Miller, “Photo Post”, at Marsh Hawk Press, “Off the Top of My Radiohead”, at Chax 4. Back to and. 3 bits from reviews at Cold Front Magazine, week of 15 Jun 09: Molly Sutton Kiefer, referring to something Kim Addonizio said, in a review of Nin Andrews’ Sleeping With Houdini; Thibault Raoult, El P.E.; Lightsey Darst, “Blueberry Picking”; Eileen Myles, “D.H.”, at Eileen Myles.com]

FCF 80

backwash
of revelation
where the screen

saver
starts quietly
shooting stars at

the
world >. stars …
_world_ … Metonyms for.

Where
are we
now? In Ellipsis,

just
east of
the postmetaphysical. Where

every
Monday someone
breaks. Last week

it
was you.
There are many

crows
that bark
and strut. The

wind
is not
a whip, but

still.
Toads plunge
out of silvery

waters.
Plunge out?
That’s cool. Leap

the
rats and
flit hissing. Perhaps

there
is a
color I can

sleep
in like
a spare rune.

The
radio is
not on, yet

much
is still
audible. The millionth

word
in the
English language is

Web
2.0. It’s
half past hangin’

time
in Ellipsis-
town … Look! the

golden
footbridge shattering
into the June

snow.
First you
broke, and then

you.
The city
is coming up

to
code. Combine butter onion garlic celery
mushroom and cumin with turmeric
ginger clove honey lemon tomato apple
salt pepper and water to steam

a
long, large
snake-shaped molecule.

The
difficulty, as
she noted perspicaciously,

is
knowing which
ace is the

ace-
in-the-
hole.

[Note: Sources: Rae Armantrout, “Parse”, in Next Life; Elizabeth James, “During an eclipse”, “Gun Detox”, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); Marjorie Welish, “The Glove”, “‘Look, Look!’”, in American Hybrid (eds. Cole Swensen and David St John); Ann Lauterbach, “Five More Songs For Joe”, in Pressed Wafer 2; Hữu Thỉnh, “Poem Written by the Sea” (trs. George Evans and Nguyen Qui Duc), in Language for a New Century (eds. Tina Chang, Nathalie Handal, Ravi Shankar); Georg Trakl, “On the Moors”, “The Rats”, “Homecoming”, (tr. Robert Grenier), in Selected Poems; Elaine Equi, “Asking for a Raise”, “For August in April”, in Ripple Effect: New and Selected Poems; Alexandra Topping, “‘Web 2.0’ declared millionth word in English language”, at Guardian.uk; Catherine Walsh, “Nearly Nowhere”, in Other: British and Irish Poetry since 1970 (eds. Richard Caddel and Peter Quartermain); Kevin Davies, The Golden Age of Parephernalia, in Nineteen Lines: A Drawing Center Writing Anthology (ed. Lytle Shaw); Alison Knowles, Footnotes: collage journals 30 years; Michael McClure, The Surge; Maureen Owen, “Poems Without Names            or your plane takes off”, in American Rush: selected poems]

FCF 79

where
all sizes
fit something, where

the
something’s exe.cut[up]able
t (?), je sais,

it’s
obvious, this
serenity inside the

hysteresis
loop or
just exchange words /

‘why’,
‘ok’, say[s]
the word ‘number’

ha /
say[s] ‘why’
the word ‘interrogate’

[interrogates]
the word
‘disrupt’, sounds like

‘here’s
a pill
for your’ species

conceived
on the
threshold of the

Gateless
Gate, with
each heartbeat essentially

a
symbolic language,
although it is

frequently
thought of
as instrumental by

those
who practice
it. It is

a
way of
acting out and

so
saying something,
and because the

magic
is so
effective in saying

what
it does,
it is thought

of
as aimlessly
beginning again, in

the
spirit of
animals with the

daemons

of human beings inside

them,
“this phenomenon
consists of a

hallucination,
try to
break yourself against

a
sphere, a
kind of delight

which
pluralizes meaning
by gesture and

without
conjunction.” No
input file specified.

It's interesting. Things happened one at a time.
           And now this is happening

           It's interesting. Things happened one or more
           at time. And now this is happening.

           It's interesting. Things happened one at a time.
           As it were. And now this is happening.

           It's interesting. Things happened one at a time.
           (As it were.) And now this is happening.

           It's interesting. Things happened one (or
           more) at time. (As it were.) And now this is
           happening.

o dedi
o dada orzourav o dou zoura
a dada skizi

o kaya
o kaya pontoura
o ponoura
a pena
poni

ge re ghi
regheghi
geghena
e reghena
a gegha
riri

menendi anenbi
embenda
tarch inemptle
o marchti rombi
tarch paiolt
a tinemptle
orch pendui
o patendi
a merchit
orch torrpch
ta urchpt orchpt
ta tro taurch
campli
ko ti aunch
a ti aunch
aungbli

used
to be
I could rub

my
eyes with
a strichnine Babylon, towering

over
the Forty
Noches of Noah-mondes ...

now,
Everything smacks
in a Hyber-

Cocktail
J’accuze-i ...
for the fastest

asses
anything glows!
And you, the

goose
who laid
the golden egg,

reply:
How hard
of hearing I

am
now, Constantly
in time to

music
that’s As
Sedimentary articulation become

the
lush agnostic
coal drowned in

the
Ydegrat Maelstrom.
Along such an

axis
(intuitive) the
extension / of a

line
drawn in
space as a

tangent
may be
said to tear

itself
apart, the
object in a

corner
conceived as
a series of

curves
standing for
the reason one

drives
to that
place determined to

show
that something
is fundamentally sound[ed].

As
water in
a glass is

tilted.
must a kind of iotacism

be proposed?

**

And another thing!

**

Or this.

This, this and this…

**

this
statue commemorating
an historic electrical

storm
represented carved
in salt on

a
plinth of
winds // itself now

stands

in

terror
of rain //
and you laugh

heartily
at its
predicament // what way

is
that to
behave? * And

the
parakeets Twitter
so beguilingly that

the
jungle bends
itself to surround

them
in an
orange-green veil.

What
does subject
mean? A knee

can
be torn
up again and

again.
oyez oyez

            nearer than mitochondria

Render
and receive.
Hold. Fast interchange

of
properties: lucidity,
despair. Rebellion among

the
constellations, long
words to frighten

older
persons, a
curb to walk

on
one foot
in the gutter,

and
the other,
and the other,

and
the other.
No output file

spedivied.
MySQL Query
Error: You have

an
error in
your SQL syntax

near
“ at
line 1 / Query:

select
      •      the
      •      old brain

with
the new
brain in her

arms.
a center
with a circumference

loosely
attached. I
could scream or

cry
right now.
Why you might

ask.
But you
don’t so I

didn’t
say a
word. destitute of

earnest
about sorry
about [not] thinking

of
really what
was meant was

Alpha
input =
“hi”: “Assuming “hi”

is
a phrase –
Input interpretation: Hello.

Response:
Hello, human.”
[< wd certainly > luv

it].
all ova
the {/Ur} place. ]

=my
mind_< … > emotional,ly]frag[ged_again]
< caught … one more

time >
< way up
on way up

on
way up
on > +purRrfect_bOne_[+purRrfect_ < who’d

have
thought there’d
be so much

love
[so much
trouble] in disyah

[Note: Sources: EPC mashup #2. See EPC for links. I go A, Z, B, Y, etc til I end w/M. And, as always, and. Charles Alexander and Sheila Murphy, Prayer, Rupture, Dwelling; Mary-Anne Breeze [Mez], “RE:OPPO.S[ABLE].I.T[HUMBS]ION!!”, as quoted in Komninos Zervos, “Komninos Zervos reviews Papertiger #3”; Sean Bonney, The Commons 2; Joel Weishaus, “The Gateless Gate”; Abigail Child, Artificial Memory; result of clicking a link at Lourdes Vásquez’s website; Alan Davies, “040501”, in This Is Thinking; skipped U; Antonin Artaud, “The Return of Artaud, The Mômo” (trs. Clayton Eshleman, Bernard Bador); Edwin Torres, “GIGABYTE ME - HOW MUCH RAM IN YOUR SUMMER OF LOVE?”; Norman Fischer, “Or if due to pressure of foreclosure”; Rod Smith, “The Latest Attempt”; Jorge Guitart, “Tour Notes”; Stephen Ratcliffe, “Sculpture 15”; Michael Heller, “Winter Notes, East End”; Sina Queyras, Expressway; I skipped I; Trevor Joyce, “From a work in progress”; Nick Piombino, “Third Silent Manifesto”; Robert Kelly, “The Invaders”, “Mont Blanc”; I skipped O; Charles North, Tulips, “Sonnet”; Hank Lazer, “The Experioddicist #2”; Mary-Anne-Breeze [Mez], bits from a number of pieces found at Netwurker; Van Morrison, “Cyprus Avenue”; Bob Marley, “So Much Trouble in the World”]

FCF 78

Gonna
go for
a long, long,

long,
long, long,
long, long, long,

long,
long, long,
long, long … drive

Take you down
to a town called Paradise

Gonna drink that wine

Gonna jump for joy

… in a town called … Paradise

until
we get
that, until we

get
that, until
we get that,

until
we get
that, until we

get
that, until
we get that,

get
that, get
that, get that,

get
that, get
that, get that,

get
that, get
that, get that

get
that love
that loves to

love
the loves
to love the

love
that love
to love the

love
that loves
to love because

what
the fuck
else is there?

Wheelbarrows
full of
dead grammar. Lungs

increasingly
contaminated. Deep
pools of vowels

opening
under internal
pressure. There might

be
a festoon
with which to

salve –
an analogy
or something – but

right
now I’d
rather live in

a
slightly weirded-
out state of

willed/
unwilled negative
capability. The subject

is
apprehensive but
the symptom … that’s

another
story. A
feather is imperturbable.

The
dog barked
29 times at

nothing
last night,
hit it right

on
the head.
Everyone must sleep

in
the cannibal’s
mouth and tell

what
the silence
is. I’ve been

trying
not to
mention my mother’s

death
and/or
the upsurge in

Eurofascism.
If we
turn around we

forget
four words,
three of them

hallucinations,
the last
another kind of

happiness,
uncomfortable but
we look warmly

upon
it. O settlers!
O American Xtian

Taliban!
O $40,000,000
cut and 15%

layoffs!
O bursitis,
gall bladder, fibromyalgia!

Politics gets wider as one gets older. I was learning a certain geometry. One could base a model for form on a crystal or the lungs. Sway is built into skyscrapers. Carefully I have cruised the aisles, wisely selecting – and now I own my groceries. The settling-in that we’re describing is a preliminary to being blown up.

160/206

mysterious
             meaning
deep
& solitary

161/205

thus we love
              just with

leaving all things

162/204

ought to dust;
              aught, too,
dust; ought,
again

[This
gets me
through today, tomorrow,

Wednesday …]
the days
of my dumb-

ass
so-called
suffering. The surf is organized, yet tired slate that works for everyone. So shoot me, velvety in texture or wreathed in my sheets as an archaic citizen it seems like a formalized accident that I was once an archaic citizen but am now embarked on an internship whose unavoidable pornography was the best anecdote in natural settings built of terms like ludicrous or fearful or trampled or I Feel Like Theorizing or as if the it that was I the it were and then we laugh so hard and so long we think we will die laughing and lose our minds and by the time we can conceive of stopping laughing we are moaning from so much laughing, we begin throwing things about the house in such a way, if anybody sees us, they’d think we’re lunatics.

I’m
proud of
whoever wrote

all
that on
my identity card.

To
laugh reminds
me who “I”

wasisam.

Blessed are those
who break off from separateness

theirs is
something to the effect of “venturing forth into the great perhaps”,

[Note: 10th anniversary of my mother’s death. For Carolyn Morris. Sources: Van Morrison, “Common One”, “Madame George”, on Astral Weeks Live at the Hollywood Bowl; Ian Davidson, Harsh, “III”, “VII”, in The Reality Street Book of Sonnets (ed. Jeff Hilson); Susan Wheeler, “White Exiles”, in American Hybrid (eds. Cole Swensen and David St John); JBR email to Geof Huth, 8 Jun 09; David Antin, “10th separation meditation”, “13th separation meditation”, in Selected Poems: 1963-1973; JBR, “Dear Boy II”, in Under The Miracle Bridge Flows The Sand; Jen Currin, “Walking the Ox”, in Hagiography; Lyn Hejinian, My Life; Geof Huth, “160/206”, 161/205”, 162/204”, in Longfellow Memoranda; Bernadette Mayer, “Concluding Unscientific Postscript”, Utopia, in The Bernadette Mayer Reader; Gil Ott, “Story….”, “Congruence and Plenitude”, in Public Domain; Lisa Robertson, The Apothecary; Robert Sheppard, “Empty Diaries 1943-1945”, “The End of the Twentieth Century: a Text for Readers and Writers”, in Complete Twentieth Century Blues; Jean Valentine, “The Harrowing”, in Little Boat; Cecelia Belle, “Dear Friends”, at Remembering David, 7 Jun 09]

FCF 77

Where
to
stumbl? Where’s the little opaque gate

letting
in
the
beneficence
of the imp and the ossibl?

The naked radios …\\

… the involuntary nervous system. Did a nude dance with his

tongue
protruding. Let
the epiphenomena try

to
tell their
tale. Always – that

attraction
I attach
the word love

to.
And Kenneth
Patchen came by

to
read with
a jazz combo.

Stand that side of the sundial, will ya?
I want to dig the [dying grass and the] shadows

the
Good   true
& beautiful. “Bourgeois

copout[s].”
Strip the
blankets from his

wistful
limbs: the
columns of amethyst,

the
angels of
marble & wood,

the
hyenas at
daybreak. I is

a
comma. And us asking Are you coming or going. Through that thing. These mediocre shocks say Superstructure. Please introduce myself.....
.....Now an I, I locate myself in the alphabet. There's a kind of lemon taste.

But
the landscape
falls away before

us,
& the
literal fall of

this
hill may
draw some of

its
beauty from
the other terror

that
will not
so naturally find

a
form. Goodbye
Piccadilly, farewell hysteria,

everyone
was singing
the same song,

and
it wasn’t
in my dreams

where
I’ve been
seeing you. It’s

like
being told
I’m harboring a

fatal
disease, but
more so, much

and
yet not
at all.
ACK ACK
ACK
Tight Corners
Light &
dark
elves. Petrified. [Toast.] Poetry is the theory of heartbreak. That sentence can be rearranged so that its nouns are in any order of precedence, and still be true.

[If]

in
this world
there’s a secret

[how would I …?]

In
this world
there’s a secret.

Blot
any excess
with a towel.

Statues
& pictures
aren’t alive. A

horse
thinks with
its ears. The

wind
makes the
grass move. “It was very dark inside the fish.” “This is among the most poignant: thoughts I know.” The

Spacing indicates what

Gluing the units to be other units to which we glue

Light forces it.

The
plague had
been upon this

land
before he
arrived but he

had
to be
responsible. “we

have lost so

much”

          Little lamb who made thee?

“Shit.” “Angels.” “Night sauce.”

 (optional comma)

Down the steep steps he slipped with many abrasions, only to find the Club Serendipitée, where he caught some GREAT sounds

like say
Hello
I’m Thanatos (or Eros)

[Note: Sources: writings of David Bromige. & a few mostly bracketed interpolations & typos. A cento of sorts, interspersing bits from books in the library’s collection (taken in chronological order) (except P-E-A-C-E, which I felt I’d have had to quote in full) with bits found via his EPC site (taken in the order they’re listed), augmented with a bit from his memoir at Big Bridge, a bit gleaned from Charles Bernstein, and a bit from Golden Handcuffs Review. I didn’t know DB but he was always there, at least since my days at Black Sparrow (early-mid 70s). In memoriam. “The Spelling”, “Wrists”, “First”, “The Present”, in The Ends of the Earth; “& Moon”; “An Interlude”, “The Ends of the Earth”, in Threads, I think - forgot to write down the book title; “My Memoir”; “Fall (Rilke into Californian)”; “Letter”, “The Weather Man”, in Ten Years in the Making; “Are You Coming or Going Through That Thing?”; “Proofs”, in Birds of the West; “Coming Out of the Ether”; Piccolo Mondo (with George Bowering, Angela Bowering, Michael Matthews); “Tight Corners”, in Tight Corners & What’s Around Them; “Finding Spells & Blessings”, in Spells & Blessings; “In Place of a Preface”; “Seeing That You Asked”, “Our Tongues”, in My Poetry; “Ten Poems from As In T as in Tether” (“A Spell (11)”, “Midsommarsnatt: Time Out for The Authentic (7.5) ““They Gain Control of My Tongue (5)”); DB as quoted by Charles Bernstein, 3 Jun 09 (also the source of the bare witness); “Lest We Forget”; “An Excrescence”, “Soul Mates”, “Typicality Enthralls with its Particular Failures”, in Desire: Selected Poems 1963-1987; “Doubt not thy name is certainty”, “Eastward Ho! a succession”, “I.D.”, in The Harbormaster of Hong Kong; David Bromige and Richard Denner (w/a little help from W Blake …), Spade ; “85”]

FCF 76

The
Emperor’s tomb’s
suspended on an

island
in the
middle of a

lake
of mercury –
like something from

the
Mummy franchise –
wonderful – toxic, yes –

but
wonderful. All
Suffering Soon To

End!
Is that
a big crisp

ball
of Chinese
noodles? EB’s right

eye
reflects the
flash, or maybe

glows.
OK. OK.
No more wonderfuls.

Wonderful
wonderful
wonderful.

The ill wind collapsed against the bole of the aspen.

It’s Ok I say, I was a lazy worker and I stole.

Stars are livid links in lucid chains. One might start here, with the blank specimen, not thinking too much, or wanting to go home.

(Evil Bunny ducks behind a pylon)

The careful and muffled sound
of fruit as it breaks from a branch,

sand rustles, the wave boils.

I find it difficult to see in this murky darkness and can barely see the thick legs of the overpass plunge into the cold dark stream that barely moves. I call this overpass Ozymandias.

Along this pathway through the almost-woods, the wooden telephone poles are covered with layers of overlapping tags that sometimes form leopardskin patterns.

I go back time and time again to Longinus, who speaks of sublimity as corresponding to the collocation of the limbs in the body.

(I had to look up collocation; I thought it had something to do with a meal)

Everyone begins making thunder and stuff
& then everyone says something after a minute

After that, everyone’s a fly,
Having an example.

The earth is porous and we fall constantly

I guess these trailers lined up in the lot off the highway will do.

Or,
as JS
has it, suddenly

noticing
a clenched
fist and then

unclenching
this fist
and how this

sensation
of unclenching
travels up the

hand
and into
the chest and

into
the breath.
And the reverse,

clenching
the unclenched
fist and noticing

how
this sensation
travels up the

hand
and into
the chest and

into
the breath.
Or just spreading

hands
wide and
putting them on

the
floor and
then kicking up

into
the air
and balancing there.

Just
a few
felicities make a

movement.
The kind
that should really

have
its own
comic book. Exploring

the
great issues
of the age.

But
still with
action. And a

speaking
part for
the lightbulb. Death

may
be jazz-
shaped, too, to

take
death back
from death itself.

“I
am if
I go/If

I
don’t go
I’m not,” where

going
is a
wave. However, if

I
go, I
am or am

not,
and if
I don’t go,

the
same. This
is some color

but
what color
is it         the

color
of the
openings in the

human
body        tin
cans make roofs

[butter
me better]
so repeats; is

a
refrain. Suffices
for sugar and

salt.
Hey asshole!
Take ya stringy

hair
out! And
so when I

read
in the
New York Times

that
Anna McCloy,
the wife of

the
lone surviving
miner at Sago,

went
to Wal-
Mart (and the

Times
makes that
free nod to

advertisement
as journalism)
to purchase a

boom
box and
a Metallica CD

(and
that one
too) [spellcheck knew

to
capitalize [sic]
Metallica] in hopes

of
jarring her
husband out of

his
coma, I
am pained and

furious
and tender
and embittered at

so
many (socio-
economic, cultural, personal

et.
al.) levels
that I barely

know
where to
begin. I said

I
wouldn’t but
wonderful. The quantity

was
less than
is usually required

for
a small
atomic bomb. Subsequent

analysis
yielded
differing opinions. Continued

on
page A10. Now, keep all these videos open on your screen at the same time, sound on or off up to you. Get pen paper to catch every other image. When thing becomes thing
                I have sunk my grabb on stank pot putty.
           where to find this week’s inch or two?

[Note: Sources; a few bits from some recent blog posts, and stuff they link thru to … and American Poets in the 21st Century (eds. Claudia Rankine and Lisa Sewell); Shin Yu Pai, “China Diary Continued: May 21”, at Makura no Soshi, 1 Jun 09; callicoon fine arts (as found via Charles Bernstein’s Web Log); Geof Huth, “The textual Imagination in Morrisville, Pennsylvania”, at dbqp, 31 May 09. From here it’s (almost) all Rankine/Sewell: Mark Levine, “John Keats”, “Work Song”; Karen Volkman, “What is this witness, the watching ages”, “One might start here, with the blank specimen”; Osip Mandelstam, untitled, “Meganom” (tr. Alistair Noon) (not Rankine/Sewell); D A Powell, “Poetics Statement”; Jackson Mac Low, “25th Dance – Saying Things About making Gardens – 22 March 1964”, in “Language” Poetries: An Anthology (ed. Douglas Messerli) (not Rankine/Sewell); Peter Gizzi, “Plain Song”, “Château If”; Juliana Spahr, “Poetics Statement”; Joshua Clover, “No More Boffins”; Kevin Young, “Poetics Statement”; Stacy Doris, Conference, “A Month of Valentines”, Knot; Myung Mi Kim, “415”, “424”, “426”; Susan Wheeler, “The Debtor in the Convex Mirror”, “The Dogwood and the The”; Mark Nowak, “Poetics Statement”; Kenneth Goldsmith, Day; Edwin Torres, Poetry Project blog posts, posted 22 and 27 May 09]

FCF 75

– this is wonderful –

give
me a
minute – wonderful – the

demented
musical cousin
of Baboon Ass

Habañero
Hot Sauce –
wonderful – “Death is

so
great because
it’s the attachment

you
can never
open” – wonderful – wonderful –

twenty
years later,
when the essay

was
reprinted in
an academic anthology,

I
edited out
the shit eating

episode.
I’m pissed
at myself for

that –
wonderful – wonderful –
the combination of

magic
calls that
made their secret

way
by psychic
pipes along the

nucleotidic
vehicles and
a textile whose

crossed
fibers are
knotted at the

intersections
forming a
pliable grid of

squared
spaces that
can be used

to
snare fish
or fowl and

to
hold things
like groceries or

hairdos –
wonderful – wonderful –
in such a

situation
it does
not make sense

to
ask what
the original of

Di
Gi Charat
is, who the

author
is, or
what kind of

message
is implied.
The entire project

was
driven by
fragments; projects such as the anime or the novel, formerly discussed independently as “works” are merely related products, just like character mugs and loose-leaf binders. The narrative is only a surplus item, added to the nonnarrative – wonderful, right? wonderful.

Bite
the head
of the uke.

The
tune will
vibrate in your

mouth.
And fuck
up your skull.

Why
Head     Inflammable
delic’ (delish?) tinsel –

“Truly do we know that a mirror was hung up, that jewels were spat out, and that then an Hundred Kings succeeeeeeeded each other; that a blade was bitten, and a serpent cut in pieces …. Unf=comfortable kyber-body bangs among itselves

skin’s
tight enough
to be a

window.
A film
Of black ampersands

on
white background.
Any trace of

certainty
conceals. To
this point we

should
add the
oft-repeated comment

that
the problematic
is not a

world-
view. I
like to oat

oat
oples and
bo no nos.

> So: Tomorrow when you wake up and stagger into the bathroom to take a leak
> you can squint into the mirror and say "Good morning you magnificent holy
> fool! ...

But
what is
crucial for us

is,
of course,
Beardsley’s critique of

the
“relativistic theory”
(to which, as

I
see it,
the so-called

“emotive
theory” can
be reduced). The

permutational
scheme is
as follows:

1    1    2    1    2    3
2    3    4    4    5    6
3    5    6    7    8    9   
4    8    9    10  11   1
5    9    10   2   3     4   
6    11  1    5    6     7
7    2    3    8    9    10
8    4    5    11  1     2
9    6    7    3    4     5
10   8    9    6    7    8
11  10  11    9  10    11

Although the method seems simple, it yields results that are emotionally and poetically complex:

woods    woods     lands    woods    lands     meadows

lands     meadows    rivers     rivers    brooks    to

meadows    brooks    to    them     and    their

rivers    then    and     heirs    forever    woods

brooks    their     heirs     lands     meadows     rivers

to    forever    woods    brooks    to    them

them    lands    meadows    and     their     heirs

and     rivers     brooks    forever    woods    lands

their    to    them     meadows     rivers     brooks

heirs     and    their     to     them     and

forever     heirs      forever    their    heirs    forever

try
to forget
he may have

thrown
his wife
out a window.

Deer
slept &
we slept beside

them
in the
radish garden; b.

starts
if an
angel counts with

his
eyes / or
a fish with

fin
caresses / poor
native and gallant /

frankly
I go
forward. / All

are
poor, all
around me. And

ends
my words /
are like fish /

in
the darkness
of their sea /

they
object to
ichthyology. 1+X=0 (always)

or
maybe not –
wonderful – typo – wonderful.

[Note: Sources: some books stacked next to the bed … and. Enough to supersize a sonnet. kari edwards, “wonderful”, “dear to those not driving the car,” in Iduna; product description at Hotsauce.com; Eileen Myles, as quoted in Dodie Bellamy, and Bellamy herself, Barf Manifesto; Hélène Cixous, Manhattan (tr. Beverley Bie Brahic); Hannah B Higgins, The Grid Book; Hiroki Azuma, Otaku: Japan’s Database Animals (trs. Jonathan E Abel and Shion Kono); Bruce Andrews, “Danger Risk Hazard Jeopardy Peril”, “Reverb Sallies”, in Designated Heartbeat; Yasumaro, The Kojiki, Records of Ancient Matters (tr. Chamberlain), as quoted by Alan Sondheim, and Sondheim himself, “#!/usr/local/bin/perl”, in The Wayward; Caroline Bergvall, “8 Figs”, in Fig; Louis Althusser & Étienne Balibar, Reading Capital; K Silem Mohammad, “Anti-Ass”, in Breathalyzer; JBR email to Ed Baker, 1 June 09, 7:52 a.m.; Gerard Genette, The Aesthetic Relation (tr. G M Goshgarian); Liz Kotz, and Carl Andre, “Ode on King Philip’s War” (?), in Kotz’s Words to be Looked At: Language in 1960s Art; Joshua Marie Wilkinson, “still life with satellite, radish garden, mailboxes, & deer”, in The Book of Whispering in the Projection Booth; Tom Mandel, “To the Cognoscenti” VI.b, in To the Cognoscenti]