Zeitgeist Spam

In the House of the Hangman 1485

Commenting on the working conditions at the Code 4 U factory — forty-eight hour shifts without breaks, spontaneous strip searches to prevent product shrinkage, ‘staff meals’ of pureed sawdust — the owner states “it’s not much different from the extremities of Abramovic’s practice,” hoping that the austere labor environment might “catalyze new mental maps.” The opera “is like a grain of mustard seed, which a man took, and sowed in his field; which indeed is smaller than all seeds. But when it is grown, it is greater than the herbs, and becomes a tree, so that the birds of the air come and lodge in its branches.” I invented nudity. I invented pain. I brought the zombie of art up from its deep grave and made it dance like a little kid. Come to me, let me feel your soft cheeks. You’re welcome. “Wake up // Embrace or delicately fondle a llama for 3-4 hours // Telling him that he is special and worthy of love // Stroke his gentle hair like the flaxen mane of a lover // Continue until llama leaves of his own accord // Find a smaller animal, a goat or ferret // Spend 5-6 hrs cradling the creature // While reciting fragments of Rilke.”

            What is it to be a sign, a coffee cup,
            the grave of a doll's discarded leg?
            I end, I begin, I have known death
            and have doubled back. I am the last
            gas station on its three stilts rising
            out of the sea, or the child born there.

INSERT STRAW HERE silver CAPRISUN® pack NO ARTIFICIAL COLORS, FLAVORS OR PRESERVATIVES Wild Cherry Cherry Flavored Juice Drink Blend From Concentrate With Other Natural Flavor drawing of blond boy in pink shorts and a yellow shirt with pink cuffs and collar kicking a soccer ball / green candy wrapper Chinese letters / broken fork, white / red star, 6 points / broken blue bottle cap / clear shard / black pen barrel, smashed

            & all the time singing in my throat 
            little dead Greek lady
            …

            [hat: 59% Acrylic 41% Modacrylic
            [ornamental trim: 24% Polyvinyl 76% Polyamide

            holding a vial           
                                    enwrapped …

I just shook hands with Astrid Proll. Lunch was tilted. Will the right hand and the alien love hand still love each other, “on op of lop top, pings”, Orpheus was plugged in than you. Is that kind of like preaching? I mean, who can even go into how this all started. Everyone knows the thing about materialism is some types of bodies have way more materiality than others. Who even has a choice? And I can’t even imagine what it would get to be like to not to have these politics because, look at me, right? But oh shit what happens when you just start undoing everything and get dreamy about negation and the abolition of all that needs abolished, right? And oh shit, poet’s and women’s work? “The pigeon ear, being far too small to interpret such a long wave, directs pigeons to fly in a circle when first taking air.” O Hidden!

            “...a rubber baby...”
            “...a plastic baby...”
            “...a cloth baby whose eyes
            close”

            clairvoyance is proving the last re-
            liable witness

“the video has a familiar look / like the future of poetry / ; a white male goldenrod crab spider / feeding on a dead honey bee in a clover flower”

[Note: Sources: various bits from The Marina Abramovic Retirement Fund of America; Susan B.A. Somers-Willett, “Self-Portrait as Interstate 10”, at NYCBigCityLit, Jul-Aug 03; Allison Cobb, “the history of ever”, at Allison Cobb, 17 Oct 013 (“plastic I collect on my daily walk”); Styrofoam”, at Evelyn Reilly; Nina Power, FB post, 31 Oct 013; Tim Petersen, “Correction”, “The Spinal Vocal Animal”, “starting to feel like a real room …”, in Trinkets Mashed into a Blender, at Faux Press; Anne Boyer, “dear dan and everybody one straight ahead sentence as if to bring my porting of vegetables to the soup”, at *, 30 Oct 013; someone, quoted in Ash Smith, “The pigeon ear …”, at opened by customs, 30 Oct 013; Philip Whalen, “O Hidden!”, quoted in Marthe Reed, FB post, 30 Oct 013; Peter Dent, “Mutual Redesignation” in Handmade Equations, quoted in Simon Howard, FB post, 31 Oct 013;Ian Heames, quoted in Amy De’Ath, FB post 31 Oct 013]

In the House of the Hangman 1484

As for the cover, the first ladybug moved (graphically) one afternoon in March this year in Roquebrune-Cap-Martin (Alpes-Maritimes). The movement of all the others was confirmed by real ladybugs (bêtes à bon Dieu) one month later in Saint-Adrien (Québec). In the cockle-shell of the anvil / You are hypnotized in space for the leaf’s sake / Great wheelbarrow of the swamps. Yet there’s no record of Benjamin and Lefebvre actually meeting, even though they were once in the same spot at the same time – Marseilles, in 1940. Whereas your glory is no longer great; / Whereas your might exists no more / -and though without much right to veneration- / your blood will still prevail a while … /  / All the children of dawn, the dawn’s offspring, / will not belong to your people; / only the chatterboxes will yield themselves to you. /  / People of Harm, of War, of Misery, / you who did the wrong, / weep for it. What is at stake in all these genealogies is the nature of this power which has surged into view in all its violence, aggression and absurdity in the course of the last forty years; what is at stake is why all those people are dancing barefoot across the Map of Broken Glass. ‘Take my favorite example, the Nike Corporation. It is not-being what it is, a contractor to sweatshops, paying mega-millions to sports celebrities and principal owner, Phil Knight, while paying pennies an hour to mostly women, 730,000 of them (at last head count) working in 720 sweatshops. Then Nike is being what it is not, that is being the savior to the Third World, the promoter of codes of conduct, and investigator of subcontractor abuse. Finally, Nike is both of these ekstatic dimensions at once, and is both Being and Nothingness.’ Thus, one October, during visits to her sister’s, she became aware that certain patterns in the linoleum were directly related with constellations which must have been embedded in the kitchen, say, of the houses where Marina Oswald had been living with, say, Ruth Paine — and others, perhaps also — where the Oswalds had lived after their New Life in America had begun — and these intersecting patterns and constellations found in linoleums were in fact reconstructions of some other events in consciousness, a consciousness greater than her own — indeed, one comprising, as it were, chunks of the Twentieth Century itself … even though now well into the Twenty-first century, she felt that these secrets exuded from expiring linoleums scattered through time and across the “interior landscapes of the late Twentieth Century” … yes — she distinctly, most definitely felt! — that these secrets being exuded had traversed the “line between Centuries,” as though transgressing a forbidden, or, at least — forbidding — border — not unlike, say the border that Oswald crossed from Finland into the Soviet Union during his “defection” — yes! — she felt, she distinctly felt — these “secrets” had been, were continually — seeping, invading surreptitiously, as though entering in as soldiers do in moving through ground brush, on their bellies … that these secrets were arriving, day by day, night by night, at the very entrance to the battered small house she lived in on a battered small side street in a battered small section of the battered small city which she envisioned always as the one sacred place where these rites could take place. I mean, im cryin becaus i cant get my wiener dog out of this pop can. please. its cutting. ALL DOG’S GO TO HELL \m/ Be careful out there in lief, yesterday i licked a manatee-related sign in a public park, now i am sick, it coud hapen to anyone. HOW MANY OF THE AIR BUD SEQUELS HAVE U EVEN WATCHED? notifications can be overwelming somtimes, but i had this moment, relaxing here, the facebook ticker just kept going like the world breathing. somtimes i favorite a tweet, then realize it was insulting me, then decide i’d rather send the person positive energy anyway; dear finch I am going to write this super fast and uncareflly but when I read what it felt like to you when you were reading what it felt like to me, etc., I was in the classroom between classes, everyone were talking about this project and other art projects, like one about a giant vagina people walked through and the people who loved / hated it or thought queer boys shouldn’t make giant vaginas, and everyone was lighting up, ideas were rapidfiring,  my body and felt complete and like an electrical current, we were talking and laughing so hard, someone said I should request that the people involved in this poem send photos of their rooms [please everyone, at the suggestion of my student, matthew, who once built a walk-in vagina, send photos of the room where you do feeling to anne boyer at gmail dot com], everyone was talking about how we would build and fund the portable public feeling structures, we were trying to figure out if the school would really let me teach an interdisciplinary course called “the temple of guiletta masina’s tears.” As the blurbs say, tho they’re not really blurbs: “A great debut. Wears its leprosy like jewelry. You know: ‘Geez Megan, I don’t know, confidently fling roseate saline to the gleam and maybe nobody will question it.’ Its punctuation licks its way free. Its ramifications can’t help looking like that. Its small, small skeleton is ‘hidden in a hoof. The horse goes on to Calgary’. The genre is basically ‘yuppie-in-Gaul,’ n’est pas? The chapter on London’s sewers must be read to be believed: apparently fat accumulates at the twists. The old solution: ‘loaf of silk, bandage this fat!’ Everything terrible. Nowadays: the sewer’s fat, cajoled loose by a free-roaming, remote-controlled plastic tractor’s tongue, is sold in Covent Garden as luxury soap. Well that’s the latest hope off my anvil of foam anyway. Foam of silk, anvil of fat, loaf of light. Phantasm kung-fus through phantasm, you can ignore them if you concentrate. I call it progress.” “Kind of like [any author] crossed with [any author] . . . on [any drug]!” Thus, when, as in the cultivation of maize by certain Indian tribes in Mexico, or in the cultivation of rice in Indonesian villages, agricultural labor is lived not only as a means of providing food but at the same time as the cult of a god, as a festival, and as a dance, and when a theoretician appears on the scene and interprets all in those gestures that is not specifically productive as no more than mystification, illusion and cunning of reason, it must be forcefully asserted that this theoretician is a much more complete incarnation of capitalism than any boss. For not only does he remain a lamentable prisoner of the categories specific to capitalism, but he wants to submit all the rest of the history of humanity to them, claiming broadly that all that people have done or sought to do for thousands of years is but an imperfect sketch of the factory system. Nothing allows us to assert that the framework of gestures comprising productive labor in the narrow sense is ‘truer’ or more ‘real’ than the ensemble of meanings in which these gestures have been interwoven by those who perform them. Nothing, if not the postulate that the true nature of man is to be a productive-economic animal, a totally arbitrary postulate and one which implies, if it were true, that socialism is forever impossible.

[Note: Sources: Luigi Serafini, Codex Seraphinianus; René Char, “Poets”, “Love” (tr. Ruthven Todd), in David Gascoyne, A Short Survey of Surrealism; Andy Merrifield, Metromarxism: A Marxist Tale of the City; The Book of the Council, quoted in Rosario Castellanos, The Book of Lamentations (tr. Esther Allen); Michel Foucault, “Two Lectures (Lecture One 7 January 1976)”, in Critique and Power: Recasting the Foucault Habermas Debate (ed. Michael Kelly); JBR (for Anne Gorrick); Nina Power, quoting something, FB post, 29 Oct 013 (Nina writes: “Just discovered possibly the worst use of Sartre in the world ever at any time by anyone - on some sort of business degree”); David Baptiste-Chirot, Cinema of Catharsis (I-III), quoted in Jerome Rothenberg, “David-Baptiste Chirot: Cinema of Catharsis (I-III) [redux] for Rex Chirot & Jerome Rothenberg”, at Jacket2, 29 Oct 013; JBR; Steve Roggenbuck, IF U DONT LOVE THE MOON YOUR AN ASS HOLE, at live my lief; Anne Boyer, “dear finch i will not mind if this is the only memory i have left”, at *, 29 Oct 013; JBR, but see next; Francis Crot, “I Will Endorse Your Novel For Crack”, in OCTOPUS DAMAGE & OTHER STORIES; Cornelius Castoriadis, The Imaginary Institution of Society (tr. Kathleen Blamey)]

In the House of the Hangman 1483

It was then that I decided to raise the book to the rank of those fictional works (or, rather, invisible works) that Borges was the best at commenting on. Rather than write the book itself, I found it more opportune to write about it as if others had written it. Cannibal Metaphysics is therefore a beginner’s guide to another book, entitled Anti-Narcissus. Which is to say one thousand people die every ten seconds / on call-waiting to their HMOs / listening to christian soft rock. Which is to ask why did I just watch that video of two guys from a Mexican cartel getting their heads cut off? Yet you say your boat doesn’t change: blackened shed, metal pail … the same romance. You’ve got to be in the right mood to buy a big house, or chat quantum mechanics genetic engineering middle-east gunfire Koran and Diamond Sutra … come on, it will take all the ropes in the world to pull me out of this river — Because you, because reasons unexplainable: build dam, construct bridge, the resulting piles of leftover steel, burnt out machinery, mounds of dirt and trash. Earrings without hooks, necklace colors faded, the unevenness due to lost stitches — What do you think? That the new life is still the old life? Hills move. River flows. I spread my hands, / the only two lotus I own. / You say they are growing — but in what direction? / “It’s over, over, over … / It’s not, it’s not, it’s not …” /  / Now all I can see are lopsided circles / walking in the Street of Happiness. Something was splendid, and the next thing was brutal, much more brutal than the first had been splendid. “You’ll get to meet a whole series of monsters here.” All of these answers are disastrously tumbling into one another at this point but I think it’s got something to do with that Joshua Clover thing, “always totalize,” right? and how it gets used to mean ALWAYS A MILITANT, NEVER A DUMB GIRL or some shit, not that Clover (I don’t know him but I want to call him Joshua, I wrote him an open letter and now David Buuck is following my poetry blog where I posted it, I’m so upset and excited and strange-feeling about it but realllllly I just like, I don’t know) means this, but unless totality means hyperobject I don’t want to do that. Again Keston Sutherland’s point about how totalizing involves sort of working one’s way through the process of a totality, and uh for me I guess that means not really jumping to — Hmmm I mean — God it’s listening again isn’t it, Dana said to me “one doesn’t say, ‘Hi, nice to meet you. I’m David. Let me tell you about Marx.’ Because actually that’s pretty anti-social! So, we listen to each other right?” And like, YEAH! is it wrong that that’s it, that’s how I feel about this? “Two plus two is almost four.” “The philosophical-sounding parts are mostly out of Frankfurt School guys, but the real theoretical background is the comment sections of Youtube videos that have their comment section disabled, forgotten theoretical economic systems such as distributism and participism, instruction manuals for becoming psychic and telepathic, but only those written by admitted frauds. “It was as if the buildings had tried to consume one another, each larger and more imposing than the next, but had bitten off more than they could chew and were now decomposing with their opponent in their jaw.” On that note, corporate leadership and communication manuals (such as: “leaders are those best able to communicate, and an act of communication is an act of leadership.”), old travel magazines that talk about great vacation opportunities in places now destroyed by war or ecological collapse, computer games and seasonal labour are also good, as though the poem were an acrostic, tho the effect feels more randomly generated, a disruptive surface embellishment, literally realizing a tense and violent textural dynamic of ‘Capital’ that sometimes but not always throws inflection upon constituent words and phrases, such as “STI”, “oWn”, ‘Need 3: in aNOTHER world I am wearing a dress / oncE YOU Think about pRice / of thaT / you cld massACre yr oWn oNe you may / as Well anD there’’s Issues around Plant / wEApons on their bodies / / make them appear as though & there’’s / issues around couvade Aubade / / tHe edge OF a sophisticated / activiST&& it’’s being twisted oFf&& LoADing up …’” In ‘Need 6’, Tudor-Bloch asserts: “You are all more confusing than I am. / Categorically. / I mean what I say&& I muST. Since When Did Some / One mean What they hear&&? What ice / a touch / of sugar absolutely does not get the message across only / juST Teen a Cradle oF / DoWnY IcE revealed key bone flenfluramine / …” Two days later the whip turned inside out like a pretzel and ooos of appointments were made without scrutiny, a black plum in each mouth. Back then, for those both and both for those on the inside and on the out, “Well, no one told me!” “Who wore it better?” and “Whoa, three months?” First, it is very clear. To Mexico and breath black living water. I do not say that easily. Black light work, it is difficult. Night Watch (floor) days. Hot and cold air; God’s land and water. So, as soon as possible,” he said. Enter the weight and shape. Soil and water produced. Four plants, trees, fruits and seeds of fruits and vegetables. Erbeuz best trees and plants. Saturday afternoon. C. day, week, day, hour, left jhalahalati. Power. International Development. I assume meteorologists are just ultrasound techs with enormous wands.

[Note: Sources: Eduardo Viveiros de Castro, Cannibal Metaphysics, at Radical Philosophy 182; JBR; Andrei Codrescu, “french quarter morning”, quoted in Marjorie Perloff, “Speaking in Codes: Marjorie Perloff on So Recently Rent a World : New and Selected Poems: 1968-2012”, at Los Angeles Review of Books, 15 Oct 013; JBR (it was horrible, and it just gets worse as my mind replays it); Zhang Er, “He Ping / PeaceRiver” (tr. Bob Holman), at alice blue review 1; Shu Cai, “Lotus” (trs. Zhang Er and Leonard Schwartz), “It’s Over, Over, Over…” (trs. Gao Xing, Zhang Er and Leonard Schwartz), at Cha, Jul 011; Nate Pritts, “Landscape & Figure Composition”, at alice blue review 21; Thomas Bernhard, Frost, quoted in Edwin Turner, “‘Horror Demands Laughter’ | This Is Not a Review of Thomas Bernhard’s Novel Frost”, at biblioklept, 27 Oct 013; David W Pritchard, “David W. Pritchard ANSWERS THE FOUR QUESTIONS”, at *, 28 Oct 013; JBR; Remedios Varo, Unsubmissive Plant, quoted in Janet A Kaplan, Remedios Varo: Unexpected Journeys; Colin Herd and Yolanda Tudor-Bloch, quoted in Herd’s “Review: Yolanda Tudor-Bloch's The Woman, DEPT#2”, at More Than One Direction, 16 Feb 011; JBR; Colin Fulton, quoted in Grace, “Poets In Profile: Colin Fulton”, at Open Book Toronto, 3 Oct 013; Berit Ellingsen, quoted in Jimin Han, “Berit Ellingsen’s Beneath the Liquid Skin”, at HTMLGIANT, 28 Oct 013; Colin Fulton, “The Cuts”, from Life Experience Coolant, in “Colin Fulton: Four Poems”, at Lemon Hound, 27 Sept 013; Matthew Fee, Genesis, at GAUSS PDF (“A Google translation of the Book of Genesis, from Afrikaans to Yiddish, and finally back into English”); Jenny Lawson, “I’m so muscular science is concerned”, at The Bloggess, 28 Oct 013]

In the House of the Hangman 1482

I mean, who gives better quote than Lester Bangs? Lou asserts that he and the other speedfreaks did not start World Wars I, II, “or the Bay of Pigs, for that matter.” And he’s right. If everybody took amphetamines, all the time, everybody would understand each other. Either that or never listen or bother with the other son of a bitch, because they’d all be too busy spending three days drawing lines around a piece of steno paper until it’s totally black. “Of course, you never can discount unforeseen circumstances, plane crashes and the like, which is why I got these eight hundred albums in the can just in case. There’s all sorts of stuff, like one is I rewrote my own version of Rigoletto, you know that opera by Scriabin, except it’s set in this Puerto Rican leather bar where all the customers are amputated at the thigh and rolling around on these little carts on wheels. They keep trying to have punchouts, except their carts keep bumping and they can’t reach each other. So they got very frustrated. I sang all the parts myself, and I stole all the lyrics off old ‘Lucas Tanner’ dialogue, but nobody will notice the difference because I made the music salsa and it’s so fucking loud you can’t hear any of the words. But I’m not gonna put that out just yet. They’ll have to wait a while for that. What my next album is gonna be is the follow-up to Metal Machine Music, which sounds exactly the same except it’s gonna be a concept album about all this stuff I was telling you before about aging and a five-record set in a gold embossed box with a booklet inside featuring blown-up Polaroid SX-70s of me tying off, hitting up, sterilizing my works with alcohol and then going out Christmas shopping, where the last pic is me modeling a cock ring on my horse geezer.” It sounds better on Romilar than any other record I have ever heard. Yet Slurb’s implications ought not be taken merely as bleak since the animation suggests, along with the passing of an established system of relations, the emergence of another (though perhaps unnerving in its unfamiliarity). Equal parts apocalypse and birthing, the winding narrative incorporates characters from real and mythical liminal tribes who embody experiences of transition. These ‘freaks’ become survivors. In a role reversal that upends conventional power structures, they endure. Much like the buzzing dragonfly who pops in and out of the animation frame, what I had in mind was: there was a photograph of Andy posed in front of Brillo boxes by a man named Fred McDarrah and he looked like a pasty-faced stockroom clerk in front of a box of shipping cartons. You couldn’t have told from the photograph that these were anything except shipping cartons, because until 1964 nobody saw them as anything else, and what Warhol had done had been to duplicate them. Now my interest in this show, and as you said, I’ve been thinking about it, started thinking about it a long time ago; but you’ve got two objects, which are to all outward appearances, indiscernible, they look exactly alike, but one is a piece of avant-garde art, and the other one is just a utilitarian container. And I thought, Well that raises the question of what is art in a very different form than has ever been raised before. Before, people would just ask blankly, What is art? What Warhol did was to put it in a different way. How, if you have two objects which look exactly alike, are, as I put it, indiscernibles, one being a work of art and the other one not, what’s the difference? And it seemed to me that the difference has to be invisible. You can’t tell really the difference between art and the ordinary object just by looking. And then somebody said, ‘Well there's a difference, I mean, Warhol’s boxes are made out of wood, the Brillo cartons are made out of corrugated cardboard’, and I said, ‘You mean to tell me that the difference between art and reality is the difference between wood and cardboard?’ The idea was either too simple or too complex to make any sense. Anyhow, Abrams used wires, boxes and a series of intuitive taps to diagnose patients. The wires were non-functional; the boxes with dials had doorbell-like devices in them; the taps were not taps on the patient, but taps on a “subject” — someone who was meant to represent the patient. After diagnosis, the doctor would prescribe different treatments, some of which were simply turning the dials on the box to create some sort of counter-disease effect. Abrams also claimed that he could heal from a distance, by putting the blood, hair, or even the signature of a patient in a “witness well,” a small hole in one of his radionics devices. My nose felt cold; I felt thirsty but only a little; my feet, which were bare, felt cold; as I felt my hair with my hands, which were bare, it was soft and dry and had no more tangles; as I felt my calves, which were bare, with my fingertips, which were bare, the skin on the calves was slightly rough; if one hand, which was bare, felt another, which was bare, the other one was cold; I could feel a little laughter wanting to emerge from my torso and my throat; I could feel a subtle but reliable amusement at formal solutions to emotional problems; I could feel an optimism about becoming a machine that could turn poison into its own antidote; I could feel a little nostalgia for alchemy; I could remind myself of Faust; I could feel a growing pain in my right achilles tendon; I felt curious and a little sad about the potential symbolic value of such a pain – “I inhabit a sacred wound / I inhabit imaginary ancestors / I inhabit an obscure will / I inhabit a long silence / I inhabit an irremediable thirst” / fog against invisible shoulder of ridge, / gull gliding to the left toward channel / the one skeeter-eater looking insect that flew by was neat too, and the one tree frog doing its croak. To make love is to be neither abstract nor literal. Each tipped-in plate is a piece of colored paper pointing to a monochromatic painting that never existed ... I wanted you to see what could not be seen, to glimpse that fact, to be touched by something small and vast, and know that you are somewhere between them, moving in both directions at the same time.

[Note: Sources: JBR, but see next; Lester Bangs, “The Greatest Album Ever Made”, at ROCKNROLL.NET (RIP Lou Reed); Megan Voeller, “Marina Zurkow: Slurb”, at Marina Zurkow (I owe this to Amy De’Ath, FB post, 27 Oct 013); Arthur C Danto, quoted in Alan Saunders, “Is it Art?”, at ABC Radio National, 4 Mar 06 (RIP Arthur Danto); Conner Habib, “The Un-Science Of Radionics”, at Vice, 27 Oct 013; JBR; Anne Boyer, “what it felt like as I was recovering the text ‘an entire cottage industry of writing’”, at *, 27 Oct 013; Aimé Césaire, “i inhabit a sacred wound”, at THIS IS AFROSURREAL, 27 Oct 013; Stephen Ratcliffe, “10.27”, at Temporality, 27 Oct 013; Hazel Sullivan, FB post, 27 Oct 013; John Yau, “5”, in Further Adventures in Monochrome, quoted in Michelle Aldredge, “the sunday poem : john yau”, at Gwarlingo, 6 Oct 012 (I owe this to Rachel May, FB post, 27 Oct 013)]

RIP Lou Reed

This is a masterpiece. And here's what I think of as its followup:

In the House of the Hangman 1481

Which is maybe just to say, Ana, that “Experience has taught us that psycho-analytic therapy — the liberation of a human being from his neurotic symptoms, inhibitions and abnormalities of character — is a lengthy business.” There is so much dark light in space / and so many dimensions suddenly yellow / because the wind does not fall / and the leaves do not breathe. What happens / when you soak a dirty leather jacket / in Lapsang Souchong tea? / (What many are describing as “campfire” is / somehow alchemically produced / out of a flu jab and a / dog, now / dead, asleep / at my feet and Ezekiel, who asks about death a lot. He says death scares him and I’m like but the good news is that when you die you might become part of a tree or something and he’s like but mommy I don’t want to be a tree.) In light of last week’s announcement of the Dmanisi skull — and the possibility that all early Homo fossils were part of one species — some researchers posit that our early hominin ancestor, Homo erectus, might have been more like baboons than chimpanzees. The flute the grapes the umbrella the armor the tree and the accordion the butterfly wings of the sugar of the blue fan of the lake and the azure waves of the silks of the strings hanging from the bouquets of roses of the ladders one and incalculable outsized flood of doves released drunk on the cutting festoons of prisms fixed to the bells decomposing with its thousand lit candles the green flocks of wool illuminated by the gentle acrobatics of the lanterns hanging from each arc string it’s Picasso’s birthday. So good evening monsieur good evening madame and good evening children big and small damasked and striped in sugar and in marshmallow clothed in blue in black and in lilac sliced very fine by the machine to make terrified rainbows: “what do we do with the negative platypi?” As in love, though, some bodies savage the narrative-spectacle-prison-shackle, blazoning a freedom for which there’s no world and bad luck in the one that is. Bette Davis fires gestures, Cate Blanchett wildly slurs her being without banter faking the encounter once more, and there then was the Mahalia Jackson incident. I have deleted five instances of the word “really”. After I ate one I blistered in hives and slept hard for two days in a Benadryl haze. O love, your history is only and always. On a street corner I was accosted by a homeless mind. The phatic man squeaks with each movement, exhaling ten times more than he inhales, whistling. I lie on the ground to let him step on me so he’ll be relieved of groaning. You could stick your fingers in them now and if it’s raining they’ll just thud the other side softly /// easy / easy okay / Our eyes can be ////// some people /// clear also okay / Our some person can be fine, okay, / easily fineness / Many times can be only wearing our okay / this person can be walking around in front of our thing as some people could be in our fineness which said “A THING, A THING” as if things could be what’s okay / also maybe can be ////// this can be a fineness about our “okay”. Their “okay”. I say to myself just what the cricket that sang in the cinders said to André Breton while I break fallen branches into little boats and toss them into the Tuolumne. But he and I know less unredacted airports maybe are you trying to activate your duration acclimate your purchase will not change relief birth lottery, right for your account is not later on I summary manual percent rate variable annual percentage rate if you’re so purchased on transit and catch insects currently reacted hurdle if you’re a meeting that a family with current introductory New Yorker and the Southampton Kashmir Texas to see or recreate your purchases estimates it to react to see this post for great literature and code breaker for the administration to people in your connectivity fighter Alpha course know if it’s late ... and that ‘there is no transaction fee for mouth cancer and the other closer summary now reacting slowly worn to world wind slitter were conspiring to initiate a greater something available really. I recently offer for you some information in your credit for no indicating to care you take equal to that area enacted that no elephants in a company punchier and the amnesty five issuer pursuant licensed open source trademark and high cholesterol point arrest or redacted bank of redacted. You are your muscle. Once I lately know that it is the are likely to that are not off, not actually that isn’t at least in the early to mid but. It’s a really good but only what you know is ... “the way we travel through each other”, okay (and that it is a very later for the people who will believe what that nature stay open the cycle in which they were listed if you wow yes or life-changing artifacts).

[Note: Sources: JBR (Ana = Ana Hager); Sigmund Freud, “Analysis: Terminable and Interminable”, quoted in JBR, FB comment, 26 Oct 013; Pablo Neruda, “The Clock Fallen into the Sea” (tr. Donald D Walsh), in The Poetry of Pablo Neruda (ed. Ilan Stavans); Anne Gorrick, “To Take the Thought and Turn it into a Scar”; Ivy Alvarez, FB post, 26 Oct 013; JBR; Magdalena Zurawski, “[Stupid is as Stupid Fucks]”, at Elective Affinities, 21 Feb 010; JBR; Sandra Simonds, FB post, 26 Oct 013; Archaeology Magazine, quoted in Kathryn Bloomberg-Rissman, FB post, 26 Oct 013; Pablo Picasso, “15.5.43” (tr. Pierre Joris), “25.12.39 [1] [11]” (tr. Diane Rothenberg), in “From Picasso: The Burial of the Count of Orgaz, & Other Poems”, at Cipher Journal Supervalent Thought, 26 Oct 013; bits from Anne Boyer, “WHAT CAN BE ////// AS FINE CAN BE ////// TO SOME PEOPLE”, at *, 26 Oct 013; JBR; JBR, “Inventory”; bits from Matthew Timmons, The Complete Collected .doc .docx .rtf .txt Files of Mathew Timmons December 2002-October 2011 all the files currently on Timmons’ computer in chronological order totalling 5+ million words originally installed at Shoshana Wayne Gallery, Los Angeles for Chain Letter curated by Christian Cummings & Doug Harvey — updated for presentation here to exhibit the last and most recent pages; Laura Mullen And Jonathan Stalling, Phonotaxis: The Way We Travel Through Each Other, quoted in Deborah Poe, FB post, 26 Oct 013]

Superheroes Prepare For Their Next Mission

In the House of the Hangman 1480

They couldn’t get the word emotion to move / they tried a new secret weapon / but it said it just felt sad / a flower of noughts / the experiment – denaming the iguana / ... but slowly, so slowly people would think it a shadow of their own thoughts, as in AURORA delicious apricot fluffy feathers and horns / Creating Hidden quickly Horn / Horn noted that the rapidly rising sea / HORN Horn of death layered coating / The layered horns ROG Recap : watches, souvenirs , apple / I have a blank canvas rainbow horn and outdoor furniture / Horn Horn Horn remains a whisper and quickly / DREAMING my furry horns / Horn emerging knowledge veins and arteries, and a foliage / Express / I beat fluffy feel crazy corn / Horn Horn layered flaky meat rejected / Of explosive bullets lacrimation Horn / Jellyfish, squid and sperm dominate dominate dominated hairy black horn / Weight / The content of hairy horns / Submarine Service workers, some horns / Horn hairy sex … Gas hairy horns. / Vacancy open violence in the Horn of meat and fast / Horn fly on white / Krdnshakh sweat Plumed / Vulva and tongue darting horns / … / Copper clad laminate finish ( laminate ) Horn Section / Aurora Layered Horn / Street Cleaning Powder Horn / Sharp horns Lagoon / Glass Nut Horns / Pumpkin eyes darting horns / Horn fluffy seed heads / Flag horn layer / Animal Kriksmrti Plumed Horn of Horn / White corn and white feathers / Black laminated plywood Horn Horn Collection / Horn learning all hair colors / Identify and fill all fluids and feisty horn Horn / I love hairy horns , my love , my memories of my death , I cried / … / Oh , no, no dead layer of plywood horn loaded horn / … / Jen Bervin will sew the Mississippi on your ceiling, if your ceiling is big enough. The river is composed of silver sequins. The sequins are made of foil stamped on cloth. So I felt worried for Alejandro in a certain way, just because he sort of fucked up, & anyone does & will, & then when I found out the thing got pulled from HTMLGIANT I thought, ‘well, that’s good.’ Because Anne (& here I mean nearly everyone who’s seeking solidarity) quite frankly deserves to be more thoughtfully addressed, critically or with great praise or what have you, & for me that was part of what she meant to attend with her own initial intervention, which is the nimble refusal in the immediate instance that’s aspectual to the genius of feminism more generally, “Why are you saying that shit HERE?” i.e., rap music is fucking beautiful & complicated. But it’s a huge problem to arbitrarily pull out stuff like that line (hard dick & bubble gum or whatever) & throw it at people when they’re trying to arrive at a solidarity that is so fucking hard to come by (because of the War) through even the greatest diligence. I always think of the end of Silliman’s Paradise — “The inadequacy of buses is planned. Listen. Be careful out there.” In my mind, I always expand that “The inadequacy” line to its full meaning “The immiseration of the world is intentional & systemic.” Listen. Be careful out there. So then I tried to potty train my kid, & I said to them “I’m just sitting here, texting y’all, applauding a small person taking a shit on a small anthropomorphized toilet in the living room so it’s whatever.” & Nat said “Oh to shit in that house” (which he’s done actually) & Josef (of course) said “ART BECOMES LIFE” & Anne said “Be sure to praise her for shitting so she can occupy the subject position of award winning poet”. So you know, we were playing, & being a little silly & little true, & just sort of figuring it out. So I thought about how him posting that thing got us all on the text machine together for a little while, the gift of it in the end, & really did think, ‘he might be a lovely & brilliant person, & people are constantly fucking up & not quite doing what they mean to do.” He is, and he did. Or, as Nicky Tiso put it, “Sorry oven mitts aren’t my forte darlings / I wear a gas mask to the potluck / And side with the victims of history; there’s no ‘I’ in army.” Arctic Temperatures Reach Highest Levels In 44,000 Years. Hence Britney’s imperious “work, bitch!” with the subtext that, work as hard as we like, we’ll never be as good as she is. But why wander about between two hedges made of stair-rails while the ladders become soft as new-born babes? And the 10 fish left that still swim in the lake sludge do not even own clothing.

[Note: Sources: Simon Howard, “Phenomenology 3”, at Walking in the Ceiling, 25 Oct 013; JBR; Jerome Rothenberg, “Corno Emplumado Improvisación Blues y Fantasía” (tr. Google, tossed thru a dozen languages by JBR), quoted in Rothenberg’s “Jerome Rothenberg: Corno Emplumado Improvisación Blues y Fantasía, in Spanish & English (1965)”, at Jacket2, 25 Oct 013; Al Filreis, “Jen Bervin: Sewing down the Mississippi”, at Jacket2, 25 Oct 013; Dana Ward, “What It Felt Like Poem #5 by Dana Ward”, at *, 25 Oct 013; JBR, but see Alejandro Ventura, “What It Felt Like Poem #8 by Alejandro Ventura”, at *, 25 Oct 013, which is lovely; JBR, but see next; Nicky Tiso, “To make graceful love’s insurrection”, at Grand Hotel Abyss, 25 Oct 013; Douglas Main, “Arctic Temperatures Reach Highest Levels In 44,000 Years, Study Finds”, at Huffington Post, 24 Oct 013; Voyou, “You want full communism? You better sublate work, bitch”, at Dangerous & Lazy, 25 Oct 013; JBR; Benjamin Péret, “Making feet and hands” (tr. David Gascoyne), at French Surrealist poems in English translated by David Gascoyne; Ezra Pound, “Salutation” (memory quote, updated)]

In the House of the Hangman 1479

I thought the room / was breathing /  / but it was me. Nothing but bodies. Nothing but words. Nothing but sounds. Missing each other or touching each other with greater impact before moving on. Nothing but glances. Nothing but gestures. Nothing but gaps. Fitting together roughly or rudely, nicely or not. Nothing but waves. Nothing but smiles. Nothing but nothing. When I wrote leaving I meant loving. Flyers fall from low planes should read flowers fill the wide plains. And the grackles that lift in battalion precision over Guadalupe Street were not the Congress Bridge bats ... Speaking of strange moments, in Gillian Rose’s Judaism and Modernity, Miss Marple wins. She somehow instantiates a kind of non-florid engagement, while Simone Weil is an ‘angry angel’. I’m afraid I can’t explain any better than that ... So you’re in this city. The noise is overwhelming, though it is strictly forbidden to speak under pain of death. There are thousands of moons in the inky black sky. & so it grew dark over the railway yard. Only then were we permitted stick & hoop. Their researches centred / On a simultaneity of life & death.

The middle of Everywhere
is what I said
to this one who asked
Where.

Instead of Nowhere,
which he claimed.

Find it he said,
on this map here.

So OK, I was watching Fox TV in a utility / closet alongside six hand trucks and old plates / old microwave old coffee pot old tea / but I had a class to teach on Joe / (“I remember”) / there is snow on the television screen / there is rain in Honolulu / I have been to lots of ballgames and shouted / “dirt ball!” at the pitchers but I never actually hit the wall / oh Carlos Beltran we love you get up. So a capillary can be walked through, erythrocytes can be stacked on tables, and a door can be band-aided, spurned and sobbing. But then, waiting outside, she wrestled to bandage the skeptic looks of silver forks. Spoons’ ability to change openings. I mean, “I have measured out my life with repeated playings of a YouTube rip of an East Texas screamo band covering Lana Del Rey's ‘Cola’.” Another day of the dry heaves. In dreams I struggle beneath some dying Minotaur. The work is famous for its pace: nothing happens, nothing happens, then everything is “said” to happen though nothing happens around that saying, then the book ends, and throughout it all there is this shouting. Of course I’m a chucklehead, Sam. But what we conceive of us as “the world” is variously fructated. It goes like this. In each of these cases, the sprigs were superfluous. If you cut open Jesus my dogs are always naked. If you cut open Jesus you see the trinculum of the venture capitalist. When the stars rush toward me, I feel very tall. When my noumen leak from my side peep, I want to reminded us of a wilder time when hyenas drug their whelps over the plain and the wind drug after them and the songs sewed their bats into a living quilt of bats and Ryan said is there music inside the gack-hole? When my mule when I will eat your continents. “For nature hath posited in a privy, secret, and intestine place of their bodies, a sort of member, by some not impertinently termed an animal, which is so saltish, brackish, clammy, sharp, nipping, tearing, prickling, and most eagerly tickling, rending nitrosity, figging itch, wriggling mordicancy, and smarting salsitude, their whole body is shaken and ebrangled, their senses totally ravished and transported, the operation of their judgment and understanding utterly confounded and all disordinate passions and perturbations of the mind thoroughly and absolutely allowed, admitted, and approved of; yea …” I drive through the hills in search of a HOUSE. I find a WHITE HEXAGON shaped BUILDING surrounded by TREES. I walk in. There is barely any FURNITURE. I look under and around BEDS, DESKS, TABLES. Everything is white. Fanning ever outward into a think of pedal the pigment crushed kissed hissed over the frame through which the chains navigate the tubing sprocketing rotary arms skulling for gold as other segments fan.

[Note: Sources: Kate Greenstreet, “May 19”, in Z”L: For The Family Of Cj Martin And Julia Drescher edited by Ash Smith; David Hadbawnik, “from Vndersongs”, in Smith; Carolina Ebeid, “Errata”, in Smith; Benjamin Noys, FB post and comment, 24 Oct 013; JBR; Simon Howard, “Phenomenology”, “Phenomenology 2”, at Walking in the Ceiling, 23 & 24 Oct 013; Lehua Taitano, “Banana Queen”, at The Offending Adam 083.2; JBR; Susan M Schultz, “Poem (Carlos Beltran has hit the wall)”, FB post, 24 Oct 013; Jonathan Regier, and Jennifer K Dick, quoted in Regier’s “Everything remembers equally: A review of Jennifer K. Dick’s ‘Circuits’”, at Jacket2, 24 Oct 013; JBR; Unlikely Stories, FB post, 24 Oct 013; Louis Armand, “Preparation for Winter”, “Watching Cut Flowers Die”, at Shampoo 26; Renee Gladman, quoted in A-J Aronstein, “EVENT FACTORY BY RENEE GLADMAN”, at Bookslut, Dec 011; JBR, FB comment, 24 Oct 013 (Sam = Sam Gilbert); bits from Tim Early, “Tim Early’s Answers”, in “poem #5”, at *, 24 Oct, 103 (the material in quotes is derived from Rabelais); Marisol Limon Martinez, After you, dearest language, quoted in Jessica Bozek, review of same, at Galatea Resurrects 7; Lanny Quarles, “Nonsensedula”, at Jellybean Weirdo With Electric Snake Fang, 24 Oct 013]

In the House of the Hangman 1478

But but but. 1. Who are the “bitches” to the revolutionary poet?

The Koch brothers. Tho I do not know why they are called “the bitches.” I suspect it has something to do to their resemblance to dogs.

2. What does giving a “bitch” “bubblegum” after a “hard dick” suggest?

Mettā (Wikipedia: Mettā or maitrī is loving-kindness, friendliness, benevolence, amity, friendship, good will, kindness, close mental union, and active interest in others. It is one of the ten pāramīs of the Theravāda school of Buddhism, and the first of the four sublime states. This is love without clinging. ...)

3. What does “fuck love” mean?

Let us first look at the etymology of fuck. The Random House Historical Dictionary of American Slang (Random House, 1994, ISBN 0-394-54427-7) cites Middle Dutch _fokken_ = “to thrust, copulate with”. (see …/language/acronyms/fuck.asp at Snopes.com). A copula = a verb, such as a form of be or seem, that identifies the predicate of a sentence with the subject. In “fuck love”, the unspoken first word is I or you or we, and the sentence is in the form of a command. Therefore, I/you/we are told to identify completely with love. “Fuck love” therefore = the command to “become love”.

4. In revolutionary thought, why do bitches not deserve “love”?

This is a misreading. They do deserve love. They deserve “fuck love”.

5. What is wrong with bitches anyway that they would think they deserve anything but hard dick?

This is to ask what is wrong with the Koch brothers. Which is to ask what is wrong with capitalists. My guess is one of the following: F22 – Lycanthropy (delusional). S30.870 - Other superficial bite of lower back and pelvis (by animal or human). V80.920A - Occupant of animal-drawn vehicle injured in transport accident with military vehicle, initial encounter (abbreviated form: Occ of anml-drn veh inj in trnsp acc w miltry vehicle, init). V80.4 - Animal-rider or occupant of animal-drawn vehicle injured in collision with car, pick-up truck, van, heavy transport vehicle or bus (Type 1 Excludes animal-rider injured in collision with military vehicle (V80.910) occupant of animal-drawn vehicle injured in collision with military vehicle (V80.920). Don’t laugh. Mortality Data Between 1999-2007: there were 66 deaths in the United States where ICD-10 V80.4 was indicated as the underlying cause of death [source: cdc.gov]). V95.43 - Spacecraft collision, injuring occupant (Applicable To Spacecraft collision with any object, fixed, moveable or moving). V96.15 - Accident due to hang glider explosion. W16.22 - Fall in (into) bucket of water causing other injury besides drowning and submersion. W18.11 - Fall from or off toilet without subsequent striking against object. W56.12 - Struck by sea lion. W58.12 - Struck by crocodile. W61.33 - Pecked by chicken. Z62.1 - Parental overprotection. Description Synonyms Overprotective parent ICD-10-CM. Z62.1 is part of Diagnostic Related Group (MS-DRG v30.0): 951 Other factors influencing health status Overprotection, child by parent Z62.1. [Note: the above classification system is taken from ICD 10. “International Classification of Diseases, 10th Edition, Clinical Modification /Procedure Coding System consists of two parts: 1. ICD-10-CM for diagnosis coding; 2. ICD-10-PCS for inpatient procedure coding. ICD-10-CM is for use in all U.S. health care settings. Diagnosis coding under ICD-10-CM uses 3 to 7 digits instead of the 3 to 5 digits used with ICD-9-CM, but the format of the code sets is similar. ICD-10-PCS is for use in U.S. inpatient hospital settings only. ICD-10­PCS uses 7 alphanumeric digits instead of the 3 or 4 numeric digits used under ICD-9-CM procedure coding. Coding under ICD-10-PCS is much more specific and substantially different from ICD-9-CM procedure coding. The transition to ICD-10 is occurring because ICD-9 produces limited data about patients’ medical conditions and hospital inpatient procedures. ICD-9 is 30 years old, has outdated terms, and is inconsistent with current medical practice. Also, the structure of ICD-9 limits the number of new codes that can be created, and many ICD-9 categories are full.” See “The ICD-10 Transition: An Introduction”, at CMS.gov]

6. Explain the relation of “hard dick” to “materialism.”

I must admit to having read Lisa Cattrone’s response to this question: “Answer: This is a trick question. This question would only be valid if the revolutionary poet said “a hard dick” not the abstract reference to “hard dick” as a form.” I believe she is absolutely correct. Being an aging man, tho, I note that I am a bit unsure of the precise meaning of “hard dick”, vis-à-vis either materialism or idealism.

7. Explain the relation of “bitches” to “metaphysics.” 

“Only a god can help us now.”

8. Freud, Lacan, Zizek, Joshua Clover, Josef Kaplan, Big L are not bitches. (T/F?) Explain why or why not. 

This is a two-parter.

a) (T/F?): yes.

b) Explain why or why not. Because they are not, or at least some of the time are not, the Koch brothers.

9. Giving the bitches a hard dick — is this revolution or poetry or both? Explain why.

This is poetry. Or so I assume, because in her “Reminiscences of Lenin” Nadezhda Krupskaya wrote (re: the Second Party Congress)

How Vladimir Ilyich had dreamt of such a congress! He always, as long as he lived, attached tremendous importance to Party congresses. He held the Party congress to be the highest authority, where all things personal had to be cast aside, where nothing was to be concealed, and everything was to be open and above board. He always took great pains in preparing for Party congresses, and was particularly careful in thinking out his speeches. In fact, he was wont to pun, “Yes this is called a congress, heh heh, but it is certainly NOT the place for a hard dick.”

email answers to anneboyer at gmail dot com. So DAVID says: Yeah, no. It’s just like I’ve got --

I don’t know, just no go. I mean I, I mean

I’m very,

I’m coherent. I can -- I hear all the noise.

(Laughing.) And you know, no, no one here

doesn’t.

GEORGE: Hard not to.

DAVID: I don’t know. I just kind of like I need some iron or something. I don’t know.

GEORGE: You need some what?

DAVID: Some iron or something I guess. I don't know.

GEORGE: You mean as a --

DAVID: The --

GEORGE: -- a vitamin iron you mean?

DAVID: Yeah, I guess. I don’t --

you know,

I lost over 3, over 3, maybe 3-1/2 pints of

blood. And

so we have been trying to -- oh, boy,

there’s a new

one. Video arcadia (sic). What was I talking

about? Let’s see.

GEORGE: You were talking about some iron.

DAVID: Yeah. Yeah, we was talking about

some iron and we was trying to build it up with,

you

know, the vegetables and stuff. Because most

all the

vegetables rotted. Electricity went out, you

know.

That stuff has rotted.

GEORGE: Is that, is that wound getting

worst?

DAVID: Well, the front the, the scab fell

off of the back. I don’t know if the back got kind

of

tender or something. It’s, it’s -- I don’t know.

It’s -- I guess it’s just kind of hoochie (sic) or

something, you know. We’ve been putting

peroxide and

stuff on it. It’s -- I don’t know. Just feel, just

feel like, you know, I want to go to sleep.

GEORGE: Well, except that’s not going to

make anything better. DAVID: I’m sorry. What? I didn’t

understand what you were --

GEORGE: I, I don’t think -- I think kind of

trying to resolve the way you feel and, and

getting

some help for, or whatever is the better way to,

to

think about this rather than, than kind of drifting

off

into sleep. It’s not -- things aren’t going to get

better if you do that, David.

DAVID: Oh, I know it.

GEORGE: We got to, we got to, you know, put out a little energy now and you may feel,

feel better

later on if in terms of resolving something.

DAVID: Like I said, I’ve been trying to keep

away from the people here. [Senses] also explain why a statement of the form a=a ;has a different “cognitive significance” than one of the form a=b, when both are ostensibly claims of identity. Because every name has an associated sense, simply substituting an “equivalent” term into a sentence does not guarantee that we will interpret it in the same way, or even that the true-value will remain the same. It is important to note that whether or not they have an adjective class, languages associate property concepts with either nouns or verbs (or sometimes both). [Sandra] Thompson’s explanation of this involves discourse, or pragmatic usage. In her study of English and Chinese, she found that adjectives and adjectival verbs function mainly as predicates. Their second function is that of introducing new participants. The predicating function is shared with verbs, and the introducing function is shared with nouns. I mean, consider the function insert-sort: List-of-Number -> List-of-Number, which takes its unordered input, and returns the same elements in a sorted (non-decreasing) list. For example, (insert-sort (list 8 6 2 4 10)) = (list 2 4 6 8 10). (A) Give two other examples and (B) write the function. (Be sure to follow the template!)

(A) 
(insert-sort (list 2 1)) = (list 1 2)
(insert-sort empty) = empty
(B)
(define insert-sort
(lambda (lon)
(cond [empty? lon) empty]
[else (insert (first lon) (insert-sort (rest lon)))])))

I HAVE NO IDEA. Pretty sure it’s recursive. The other two metaphors are more allusive. The “child of broken elevators” is – well, I don’t know – but it’s a line I remember every time I get in an elevator. The next image – “the curtain of holes you never want to throw away” is, well, “Quickly and quickly, and faster, faster …” I mean, you tell me: “who ate the dogbrick sandwich?” “When does the winged bridge appear on this terrified earth?”

[Note: Sources: Anne Boyer, “Poem for Revolution and/or Poetry?”, at *, 23 Oct 013 (source of these questions, which are appended to / a part of a poem which quotes Big L as quoted in Alejandro Ventura, “Incitement to a Book Burning, proposal from Alejandro Ventura” at -revolution and / or poetry, 21 Oct 013, and which reads “fuck love, all I got for bitches is hard dick and bubblegum” over and over again), and JBR (the responses, but see “The ICD-10 Transition: An Introduction”, at CMS.gov; Rhonnel M. Adalin, “ICD-10 codes are fun”, email forwarded by Omo Bob, rec’d 23 Oct 013 approx 11:05 AM PDT; Lisa Cattrone, “Lisa Cattrone’s Answers”, at *, 23 Oct 013; Martin Heidegger; Nadezhda Krupskaya, “Reminiscences of Lenin (The Second Congress)”, at Marxists.org) (also please see JBR, “Poem #3”, at *, 23 Oct 013, where this bit also appears); Jake Reber, 7/9PE /X/ (TAPE 181) 3/28/93 2:19 P.M. - 3:14 P.M., at GAUSS PDF; Elisa Gabbert, “Some Number of Things I Learned in College that I Don’t Remember”, at The French Exit, 22 Oct 013; JBR; Steven Fama, and Philip Lamantia, “I Am Coming”, “Inside the Journey”, “From the Front”, “Poetics by Pluto”, quoted in Fama’s “Philip Lamantia -- The Collected Poems”, at the glade of theoric ornithic hermetica, 23 Oct 013 (PL’s b’day is 23 Oct); JBR]