Thursday, October 18, 2018

Book of business

Misdemeanor of body props
prosaic error breathed & ministered
I mistook my candy cane for your cotton candy
our ghosts are now riot ready
I am saying here’s the rub
there is too much ownership
possession is 9 parts stealth & 1 part domination
sold by the hour how
to import hash value how
to ignore the invariant details
the error regulated
& stormed out of bounds

Tuesday, October 16, 2018

Poem in the form of labor

Description is not enough
The soft Buddhism of your lips
twinned voices to intoxicate my singularity
when each of us were many

There can be no umbrella no diagram to trace
the retreat of advancing troops
no treadmill that hits for the so-called cycle
no analog of tree
no coveralls to save Mr Green Jeans
Nothing to unpack The Fantastic Four
just me & Invisible Girl together for the first time

Episode 1: duel of force & relation
How the subject fails to swallow
totality rejuvenated by jam
this is our toast to destruction

Episode 2: green room
Caught in the alien lights
I have been wiped and swattled
O how I have been wiped and swattled

Thought bubbles written behind my back
deposited in the currency of pleasure & pain
So much depends upon
the logic of the presupposed Earth
Freedom and domination co-constituted
Scaffold to ponder scaffold
to execute that killer app
to render the privilege of comic mode
aswim in individual shadow
away from the brutalism of sun
your self-valorizing value forms a business plan
for monsters by monsters

Dear Mr Fantastic it is time to go
Time to kill value - what’s the use - before fact
Character first in a structure that compels
each step confirming the prior step
the strangeness of her lips
Dark wallnuts & grey willows
subjective invisibility
inserts exclamation for The Thing!
this time featuring Human Torch

Sunday, October 14, 2018

I want to be inside that outside


Radiant Constantinoples
Middle finger companion piece
Carat cake for malingerers

Cleavage cleavage
We all fall down

Tuesday, September 11, 2018

The nude foundation

No change of clothes
I turned the page
for mere subsistence
hunting to gather
no economic apparatus
guided by wounds
visible to all outsiders

Each morning one constructs a face
Cash for clothes
looking to cross
the mount of material expression
Moonstruck on the bridge

Implicit leakage
cinched up pants in primary colors
Aloha shirts
cotton based nightware
stitched in gold
3 piece loungewear
enamel shoes
eyeglasses at comically sharp angles
short permanent waves
smoking at home
modified school uniforms
inhaling paint fumes
hilarious bitmap
snot machine for
failed truants
some ride vehicles some do not

Tuesday, July 17, 2018

Tick Tock Philosophy

"Forensics is eloquence‎ and reduction"  -Gertrude Stein

This was trying to make - at some point - a point about Bergson's inadequate notion of time - which emphasizes a "continuity of becoming" - rather than a more Whiteheadian "becoming of continuity."  Perhaps it is a strange defense of Baudelaire -- against the Poundian: "la continuite (sic) n'est pas artificiel" (pardon the French, pardon the hellish mistranslation) - Baudelaire had a book "les paradis artificiels" - which Pound had a problem with.  

Ferocity plus disinterest
equals what?
Celebrity against
I means business
to write shorter bursts
Hors d'oeuvres that live up to their name
(outside the work)

Just kidding but
seriously doesn't anyone understand
"purpos‎iveness without purpose"
(think aimless goals, accidental design)
This ain't no roadside picnic
but who cares?

Yes, I don't care
Don't force me to compete
stronger in the tumult
Of the many
Of the no more
Of the don't ask don't tell

That stabbing sensation
Times out
Quarter horses
To soar or sing
Of damage
Irrelevant to pleasure

The concept engine
Con game
Cruelty for a day
For ideal card counts and thieves
Thumbed under the sign
Cleansed in comfort
Lacking vision

Monday, July 16, 2018

Muscle memory (pause of play)

Somewhere in the history of chewing gum
the oscillation of molars
Involuntary vision
separates form & concept

In the dirt collector’s dream   
little nouns aerate soil
What does not kill
brackets us one bug at a time

Improbable but with full orchestration
At ease with unease
Only the dead know nothing
what is it to live
to block the thought that arrives
to sustain affirmative forgetting
Rushing station to station
to lose the habit
one pays to acquire
so-called histories
with the more musical names
Rumba or Cha-Cha
Rhomboid dream whose felt operands
map out incongruent math
to clear Parades of equations

How sound rises to swallow thought
The weight of the tongue a tourniquet where
words check themselves at the door