I sound a zaum zone and zebra opens herself in language I err sound a zaum zooey and zebra unfolds or infolds and language I read The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick and Zebra reveals herself to me This particular passage strikes me peculiar and provocative: [28:19] That Gnostic narration about Christ being seen simultaneously as a child, a man, a little old bald man, a short man, a vastly tall man – it resembles the “will-o-the-wisp” UFO sightings and contacts. And Zebra has a little of that playful, mirthful quality – very much so. Philip K. Dick references The Apocryphon of John or The Secret Book of John: And within the light there was a multiform image and the manner of appearance were appearing through one another and the manner of appearance had these forms… The multiform moors monstrosity, a hauntological monster that bleeds boundaries / Sylvia Plath’s Edge and I emet edge the swath of golem gods The multiform mixes monk’s mood and I improvise monsters, the assemblage of arcs arms alien photographs Christ compactifies Christ, a series of miniature Christs collapsed into each vibrating dimension, and the eleven dimensions write dime novels eleven echoes of autumn I pick up a framing hammer and I use the claw to mutilate the multiform body of Christ, and the head hulls hails for cosmic crucifixion The three forms fasten or fashion woman, a harbinger hecate or the KRYSXTRYN Triple Goddess, and each figure triples, three times three and three across three Taryn needleworked Christina crocheted Krystal sewn Taryn Apocryphon peers piers aporia, the knot of Apocalypse Apocryphon pilots pistols aporia, and aporia plays paradoxical groove in pocket / the pterodactyl apocalypse Apocryphon Aporia Apocatastasis Apocalypse weave interweave scrolls codex texts / I write the apple orchard vision I write the vision pomegranate and I open the seeds poiesis Zebra shares the sheaf topological Taryn and Taryn heterotopia, and I walk the cemetery I explore the tombstones with Taryn, and each stone extends sanctuary and sarcophagus I enter the sarcophagus as iron maiden and Taryn opens and closes the doorway simultaneously / the image imagined sheol Zebra psalms sharks servant girl annihilator and zebra scuttles across her bodies I throw chance operations and Zebra clandestinely ghosts in dice, star charts, and I Ching I throw coins or straw and Zebra invents the eigenvectors that crosscurrent I Ching, and she says Horizon Hits Apocalypse / Apocalypse Always Approaches Apocalypse always approaches imminent and immanent Apocalypse and Kingdom transform target-space dualities and strong-weak dualities / quantities exchange eschaton and I enter the immediate equivalencies Apocalypse arms Kingdom Annulus, the ring ragnorak projected into Yahweh, and Yahweh as kudzu crags Krystal obsidian The club crags catches my cranium with razor volcanoes and Krystal canoes with my hollowed-out body UFO Yahweh fucks with humanity and he rides disc-shaped chariots through the sky UFO Yahweh zips Zebra auroch aurora and his triangular lights confuse and bewilder airforce pilots UFO Yahweh assassinates attempted ancient astronauts and lets the Egyptians build the Pyramids I contemplate Three Studies For Figures At the Base Of A Crucifixion, 1944 oil and pastel on hardboard, triptych, each panel 97×74 cm The orange surprises or strangles seizures, and the Christ epilepsy grand mals total activation energy of the Cross Cross amplifies orange, deep orphan orange dark and I ochre the dark with gold overleaf lamprey attached to the lamp / Christ’s body Christ overdoses in orange oblivion and I gaze upwards the Yahweh UFOs preparing for afternoon eclipse and their solar shields shade Golgotha / my skull skim milk Orange opals my birth color, the oxen yellow yolk Yahweh, and from my birth, Yahweh dips me in red-orange magma and alien blood, an ouroboros bastard prophet benjamin I study three figures and in threes, triplets nested inside quintuplets, a lopsided swing arranging figures asymmetrical at the foot of the cross I study three figures three women and the women waves several sheaves / I get something from the colour of wheat I worship the woman while I hang on the cross or I worship the woman from the base of the cross / void varnish eldritch abominations and the minotaur births woman births minotaur The minotaur woman crucifies completely and totally Taryn I study three figures the woman and the woman inverts ovum ouroboros elongated Benjamin Woman debrides Benjamin’s eschar, Yahweh’s eschaton, and my wound opens dimensional tunnels into woman body or the bodily woman Crucifixion cooks the notocord of my necropolis body / my body invites the female dead Crucifixion transforms my body into a corpse candle, wick woman and wax woman
Month: March 2023
To Write Reflects As Malchut, The Glass Darkly
Absence of the writer too, for to write is to draw back To write releases white rapids and the water root grows rat tail rabbit’s feet To write reflects as malchut, the glass darkly and the speculum that does not shine, and malchut meets me matador minotaur Malchut machines millet and barley, and Barley Benjamin jams double bass in the labyrinth Barley Benjamin improvises double bass in the labyrinth with the matador minotaur manatee / our bebop ensemble bounces fast sound off maze walls I write bebop rudiments and I need more discipline I watch a video essay on Chuck Jones by Every Frame A Painting and Chuck Jones says, you need discipline and I need more discipline I need discipline to write, and I write A Absence but I don’t write THE Absence, which combos an abyssus absence, an absence occult black paintings I need discipline and I draw back desert place and I should write my own places best I should write my own desert places best but I must travel (Yahweh said to Abram, leave your country, your own kindred, and your father’s house for a country which I will show you…) The country Yahweh shows me is Cunt and Cross: the country Yahweh reveals to me is Hamlet laying his head on Ophelia’s lap and speaking country matters and Hamlet inhabits the Ghost, a ghastly and grisly Cross I stain the cross black with burnt guts and charcoal What he says here about the green of his window can be applied to every tome, and that tome tags TARYN on subway trains and coal cars I tag TARYN wildstyle woman and her body sketches Super Metroid speedruns Her body varials jet set radio and the girl goblin graffiti radiates radon balloons and alpha waves Alpha waves bounce bebop in my intestinal walls and my diverticuli doo-woop altered scales mother popcorn funk I write a sort of funk, a hard funk or p—funk, and the myth matchlocks musk ox and oar ouroboros Ouroboros opens absence in tail serpent circles Circles circulate and celebrate absence, the Abyss enumerating the empty interior of the Godhead Circles cycle cylotomic serpents and I punctuate modulus time on cloud chamber bowls and the spoils of war Circles summa a series of infinite null sets and this set saturates the Godhead This set salvias the godhead sweets sisters honey This set psalms brown sugar godhead baked into brownies / these three collections cake transpositionally and inversionally symmetric, a sequence of empty symmetries paired with zeroed antisymmetries I listen to Igor Stravinsky’s Threni and the voices various chant the ladder larvae lamentations The voices ven variable a kind of triadic atonality, and I freely transpose and combine, select and repeat words and letters Orpheus and Les Noces I transpose Taryn as Threni and Taryn in tuttis and three trombones play brass chords and brass aggregates, and I write glissandos galapagos gods The voices are not always in rhythmic unison, and therefore any bar lines would cut at least one line arbitrarily / I cut at least one line arbitrarily I cut the lines and I cut the lines, and every line achieves rhythmic independence and rhythmic linear independence / nonlinear and chaotic mappings Here begins the lamentation of the prophet Jeremiah and I cut the line I cut the line and the line splits ladder rungs smaller ladderback chair and I conduct from the chair merely counting the music out and I count out a motet by Josquin des Prez Line cuts line intertextual small and large intestines and my abdomen ascends the conductor’s baton as an obelisk, stones cut from the quarry I repeat the cut because the ladder repeats I repeat the cut into my body and the ladder enters my abdomen envelope, and I swallow retrosounders and reversals I spit swords and swallow fire, the stomach flap that coals camel ladders, and ladder connects crossroads with bear bones or ben bones bare Bone cuts into line end to end and sometimes median or mediastinum Always cut and no matter the cut – short cut medium cut long cut – cut completely and emphatically Cut with meaning and purpose Cut meaning and purpose Leave nonsense and the ZERO Open no sense and CONTRADICTION / contradiction cuts in isolation The whole repertory of tape transformation alters spoken or sung material and moves it tonally pure, meaningless sound Sound shreds seven simultaneous simultaneous seldom silver Sound shits seldom sheila and she synchronizes the beach shells (I saw you went to Morro Bay. Ya I did, says Taryn. Did you surf? No, I don’t surf in Morro Bay. What did you do then? Built sandcastles. There were jellyfishes. Did they sting you? No but there were a bunch washed up on the beach. Why did you kill them Taryn? They smelled your BO and they committed suicide on the beach. Yeah I guess so, says T) Sound streams stegosaurus stalagmites and sound smashes steel sheets Submarine sheets periscope Taryn Tammy torpedos and she sinks sound TODAY’S WEATHER fate screams and rivers run red while turmoil abounds in the festering belly of our souls, chance of showers after 2 PM Showers sound John Coltrane’s Live in Seattle and I sleep cosmic suite I sleep cosmic suite smiths tape transformations I splice tape cut rearranged I place the order different I cut tape movie tape permutations and I play the order different difference and I dream I read a previously unknown book written by Sabbatai Sevi I record Sabbatai Sevi’s voice and he shouts messianic sound apocalyptic sound apostate sound, and I accompany the tape transformation in apostasy I accompany the tape transformations slander hellbender and I bend the note up a whole step with sweet vibrato
In General, The Gospel
CW: body horror, graphic violence, some pornographic imagery In general, the Gospel In general, God ground Gospel and Gertrude Stein writes saints apocalypse apostles The Gospel and Palm Tree Garden candies ghost licorice and the Word whips through the fountain turn of Candymonium I stain the wood with blue ink I soak blue ink into the ply-boards and its blue-red boundaries bound my body / my body reduces four-track magnetic tape Ouroboros overdubs my body with scroll scripture codex and the word-language lingua as Christina cobra / habit hood hell hell skyrushes bird habitat and my house I listen to Harry Partch in my Hell and the tonality diamond bulldozers diamond dust, the summoned Shiva I listen to Harry Partch’s Delusion of the Fury and I participate as singer dancer mime musician I participate lion tiger leopard, and the leopard-lynx lows load the lighthouse The Gospel, lighthouse, and laboratory language One The Gospel, labyrinth, and library language one The labyrinth lamps holy lamp nonlinear Her face has been bludgeoned beyond recognition / homicide by beating A young woman found with blood force trauma including multiple wounds to the back of the head (believed to be from a roofing hammer or framing hammer) One of her teeth had become knocked out in the attack Violence of the Valley / Violence of the Valley of Ben-Hinnom He had been beaten, tied up, burned with a small butane torch and cigarettes, and sexually mutilated with a sharp object. The sexual mutilation was so severe the medical examiner took several months to positively identify him as male Her assault had strangled her with a cord and then emptied his gun into her head, complicating identification Violence of the Valley / Violence of the Valley of Ben-Hinnom The violence vehicular manslaughter The violence vehicular manslaughter throws body mac three and the windshield shreds my body sweep body No, the violence sheols sheafs and Taryn’s body assembles topological triceratops / transgression and the tannin of transgression Today, Sabbatai Sevi’s birthday – Ninth of Av – and I celebrate and transform the sin into redemption Sabbatai Sevi and Jacob Frank fillet my flank fourth of July and their fireworks flatter Their fireworks force explosive sodomy / I take a rocket up the ass The rocket rape downs skycrapers or buildings dark metal gear solid diazepam The rocket racks rock relief and the cliff hordes quartz and I hike the scion quartz trail I hike quartz and no! I don’t want to see any of that I want to see every bone stone of time I want to see the green eyes (I play Husker Du’s Green Eyes for Kari) I visit Jacob Frank in a dream and he proclaims to me that I too must become a Christian Charlatan and Holy Heretic, and my Christianity chortles chameleon My Christianity chameleon cannibalizes as sacred crocodiles My Christianity wrestles reptile and I earn a double flawless victory without blocking once / I uppercut Reptile into the Pit I meet Jacob Frank in a dream and we haggle antinomian a flat orgiastic Christianity I find a parcel containing human remains / I discover the female torso and I match the torso to a previously found arm and shoulder My shoulder shanks shaker furniture, and in the chair charism, I butcher the shank / the calf covets the cross My shoulder swatches shaker furniture and my body reassembles in asymmetrical drawer arrangements and multipurpose forms I sit in a shaker ladderback chair and the ladder climbs water channels woman I sit in a shaker ladderback chair and I run the water backwards becoming water The ladders loops non-euclidean and the ladder spirals non-hierarchical Her teeth and jaw were removed due to her unique gold-filling dental work My jaw joins the jaw of a windsor chair and the butcher lathes my body bloody ladder bones woodturning My jaw juts joust and my ladder transforms into a lance The lance pierces the pedal cathedral / rose window I find the left cut above the knee / I never discover the head and remaining limbs A ladder assembled from human limbs ascends Hell or Merkabah Vision The Throne corduroys carcasses or soul grinds angel surgery / Yahweh conducts unethical and gruesome medical experiments on cherubs The work’s clang of novelty Everything follows everything No risk except the risk of body My body avoids the butter notes and the desert dismembers me The desert decapitates metric modulation or polymeter piranha I work in swarms, swans polyphony, and the Book bells clang with novelty My body busks at the riverbank and I hear Bells for Stokowski My body fills beakers acids bases ionic solutions and the solvent develops the animation cells Fantasia: Stokowski conducts a romantic orchestration of J.S. Bach’s Toccata and Fugue in D Minor (I learned recently the Toccata and Fugue compels a mystery: no one knows exactly when it was composed and some contend it was not composed by J.S. Bach at all) My body always-already contained in texts THIS MACHINE KILLS FASCISTS Also, heterogeneity is itself a unifying factor In this sense, I write a Concerto For Orchestra I write Towers tiling Towers and Towers tessellating Towers, the trap beat of Taryn’s body The concerto saddles a choir of suspended cymbals, and the splash crash crosshairs cars The concerto codes celluloid film and the film photomontage melts into multiple elements severed feet The heterogeneity hobos heteroglossia and I codeswitch between many tongues The novel novel novellas narcotics and I zebra xenoglossia / PKD speaks koine greek I listen to Pierre Boulez’s Le Marteau sans maitre and I’ve always found it nebulous and fleeting, a quiet supernova or stellar collapse Stravinsky called it a masterpiece – who am I to argue with Stravinsky? So I soak in its tenuous tendons and pulled away fatty tissue I increasingly believe that to create effective art, we have to take delirium, and yes, organize it, says Pierre Boulez My delirium digs desert and the desert fauna flow a dripping drought in my ideas or references of delusion My delirium elbow drops droppa stones and the text is partially sung, partially interpreted through the purely instrumental passages The text disappears in the text the text always remains Text contaminates text with animal blood, and the animal and human share one word, a cross crossroads at junctions intersections medieval median No – cross that out – no, leave it in – rewrite it or try again The text contaminates text with animal blood, and the animal woman share blood on the tracks an open enteral feeding, and I ape escape egon echelon erratic An the text arrhythmia amplifies ventricular fibrillation and I shock the rhythm random roadkill I read a translation of the Rene Char texts used in Le Marteau sans maitre and I like the red caravan on the nail / the corpse in a basket I carry the basket that bites headdress horseman the invisible head teeths text tallow / one follows the line of only a single instrument and is content to be aware of the others I admit I write many lines and too many lines and certainly the overwhelming weaving of lines, and I indulge in polyphony multiple ensembles and orchestras I recommend follow a single line and see it through: each line interpenetrates melody and surrounds itself with alice allotrope apartments Follow the line and see it through: Woman, Yahweh, Writing Anyway the writing rhizomes indefinitely and inevitably The red caravan cablecars curls and somewhere a Duke Ellington ensemble plays and improvises saxophone soli intersecting and not intersecting The red caravan appears as optional transportation at the end of this essay Different curves heterogeneous curvatures a smooth continuous silk of the text The red caravan arrives at the carnival of souls My life resembles Ambrose Bierce’s 1890 story An Occurrence At Owl Creek Bridge Polyphonic polycephaly Polyphonic polycephaly and my heads host hyenas bear lion hybrid heads I mimic the Four Evangelists with one body The figure of a three-headed lamb Drawing of a skull of a child born in 1783 in Bengal, affected by craniopagus parasiticus My skull meets Taryn’s skull minted in monopoly money My skull scratches into the interior of Christina’s skull and we share cranium skull flaps and dura mater My body breaches Taryn’s body dicephalic parapagus and she doubles my delirium I study body in deformity and malformations I study body in disease and decay, that inevitable aging and sometimes I indeed feel middle-aged I smooth out my body; I make the partitions of my body Riemann integrable / my body sums the area under the curve and I teleport using Area 51 stolen UFO devices energized surfaces and voltages made audible My body blares energized surfaces fanfares and I bugle all bitches must die I listen to Lingua Ignota’s All Bitches Die (Bitches All Die Here) and Yahweh peers or peaks into my brain Yahweh pushes into my brain cavity and plays black death black plague a plagal cadence amen all men all bitches die Lingua Ignota sings Sinner you better get ready Oh sinner you better get ready hallelujah Oh sinner you better get ready For the time is coming that the sinner must die I sin something sacrosanct I sin and I masturbate sin salamander semen sea spray jump into the river Albert Ayler jumps into the river and he saw something apocalypse He saw something darken the sky Yahweh darkens my sky seven swans and he chases my body-in-chalice my body-in-columns my body-chandelier-and-candelabra and my body canines cannibals Yahweh cannibalize in its own image, the mountain of the cannibal god With this music, I cut you open, fucker I write you raw rotten, your fucking filth / disaster tonality diamond (Sin oh susanna and I shake river gold) I sin oh susanna and I struggle a line between contemporary music and free improvisation I sin and I left the ox oven on burning down the house I sin sequenza, a found object voltage adapter and the magic adept oscillates alpha aleph The aleph against grappas sound installation Sound semtex asymmetry strangles and I choke on Christ’s cock I find fur mutilated body in mitre square He later claimed his victim looked like Jonah from the Bible and sent him telepathic messages: hey man, pick me up and thrown me over the boat… Kill me so others will be saved I get about running away from Yahweh, and going to Tarshish, and the Yahweh overtakes me or encompasses me, the ocean orchard and the ocean orchid / God guts and gonads I get about running away from Yahweh and go to Tarshish / Tarshish trim brakes twin Taryn and she takes me and throws me into the sea Sea secretes God semen, his salt sea semen He cut her abdomen open, took her organs out, examined them, and draped them on nearby branches so he could see them better / intestines entangle insect infestation and non-classified begs or berries bore into stone-tumbled tissue Yahweh cuts open my abdomen and enters my gut parasite Yahweh chews on my innards and lays his eggs into the inner wall of my colon The eggs batch homunculi, miniature Christs, and they burst through my abdomen Christs proliferate parasitic, a Holy Mass malaria and fever fibbonaci thrashes thoracic The two mix, variations of two earlier meteors, and the metric space measures the distance of my body to Yahweh / zero space and zero zebra, no gaps nothing I calculate the growth of rabbit populations and the rabbit runs Tarshish The rabbit rubbles circular ruins and I stab Saint Jerome in the Desert (note rabbit being charged by a domesticated hound) Rabbit routes root rhizome, the sprawl in my spine as lyssavirus Rabbit risks root rhizome, and my enervated body plays booker braces or the brace spears rabbit roasted fire Rabbit realistic fire
Absence Of The Writer Too
CW: body horror, descriptions of graphic violence, pornographic imagery Absence of the writer too. Absence of the writer too and I write absence I write absence abeyance abyss and the written apart written, my writing in my oracle bones I write absence and the absence of the writer raptors beware alarm and I listen to Alarm Will Sound’s interpretations of Aphex Twin Absence writes drum n’ bass or braindance Absence of the writer too For to write is to draw back Absence aurora action paints black and white fields stations of the cross Absence writes aurora / I don’t compose I assemble materials The material medium The material minus something matchless metal and I push the material in my body metal fetishist and the material mouths matriarchal goddesses / the slime smoke serpent swallowing mouse matter The material minus something The material minus something mouths mass mud The material mixes magma and mural, and the canvas cooks marfa lights The material marshes maple syrup and the minus something marrows mayhem twin guitar iron unison Absence of the writer too and write into the absence I write myself absent and into the absence I wrestle absence and I write into the absence of Yahweh on the Cross Cross kicks into Yahweh Absent and Absent Yahweh, and Yahweh yvettes absence alicia absence / unidentified flying objects unidentified submerged objects objects ouroboros or the spherical cow (a system which has spherical symmetry, and whose state is changing because of chemical reactions and diffusion cannot result in an organism, such as a horse, which is not spherically symmetrical / we approximate a spherical cow Don’t fuck with the formula Don’t fuck with the formula / Fuck with the formula Benjamin, you have to fuck wit the formula: write into the absence and through absence, from absence into absence into absence Benjamin, you have to fuck with the formula / why I want to fuck Ronald Reagan Ronald Reagan and the conceptual autodisaster I anticipate the car crash and the parousia pervades median strip I anticipate the car crash catch wrestling and I wrestle with formula routine comfort Fuck the formula (Was Radu Malfatti correct? Am I heading towards stagnation or regression?) I immerse and repeat again the Nag Hammadi Library I immerse and repeat again Philip K. Dick I immerse and repeat again William Blake All new and tent revival, the Second Great Awakening Need more pulp, pornography and body horror Need more Nag Hammadi, Bible, Apocrypha, and Zohar Need more exploitation and cannibal films Anthropos eyes Stalked dichoptic eyes Single cycloatic compound eye Holochoral eye Schizochocal eye I spy with my little eye many naked bodies and many nude bodies My eyes ochre retinal tear and my eye covers eye its eloasatin My eye coral combs sponge and I wade with woman wobbegong I wade nurse narcotics and I evolve vibrant as a form of mental volvation from Yahweh / revolver ransacks revolution and russian roulette Lobsters wash up on the beach Blobs wash up on the beach Severed feet wash up on the beach Beach burden bullet whale carcass a rotting mass of whale tissue as he has written compositions for orchestras on different planets I write the continued rope and the rope knots eternal the rope tie silver tarnish I write rope real, a camel through the eye into the real My eyes eyelet estimated elephant and my eye entire exile with shekinah The skekinah shimmers shutter to repel ghosts and I collect my shrunken heads I sever and specially prepare human heads / shrunken heads known for their mandibular proganthism, facial distortion, and shrinkage of the lateral sides of the forehead; these artifacts of the shrinking process The process of creating a shrunken head begins with removing the skull from the neck An incision made on the back of the ear and all the skin and flesh removed from the cranium Red seeds placed underneath the nostrils and the lips sewn shut The mouth held together with three palm pins Fat from the flesh of the head removed A wooden ball placed under the flesh then boiled in water that has been saturated with a number of herbs containing tannins The head then dried with hot rocks and sand while molding it to retain its human features The skin rubbed with charcoal ash Decorative beads sometimes added to the head My head shrinks string theory and the false vacuums collapse my skull My head shrinks cathedral scaffolding and my head hangs trophy treasure O tannenbaum My shrinks secret society and secret council / the skull and bones use my head as a tetrino I collect all my heads in a duffelbag: I carry them as comfort heads human skull worry stones Rub the forehead like Aladdin’s Lamp and the skull peaks out The skull becomes a mountain peak, Krystal Karakoram and K2, and her ice and avalanches slip dozens into crevasse abyss She enters incision a pair of scissors She enters-exits incision a bullet wound through my skull backwards and in light a labyrinth I listen to “Something” by Julien Baker because of course I listen to Julien Baker and she sings to my distant Christianity She sings to my Christianity at a distance and she two lags distance Christianity and my Christianity copper mines mine A circa 1991 television commercial for Nintendo’s Dr. Mario NES videogame. In it, a teenager is singing a parody version of the “David Seville” (of the Chipmunks) novelty classic “Witch Doctor” I like novelty songs and I like Dr. Mario and the puzzle picnics permutations Every permutation pueblos a skull and my head resembles las meninas: mirror daughter mirror artist and Christina my daughter attacks pigment / benjamin, Christina’s daughter, carousels cartilage horse skeletons Sleepwalk plays over the ending of La Bamba and ever since, I’ve associated Sleepwalk with a 50’s death or a prom night death and I think the same song was used in an Are You Afraid Of The Dark episode – perhaps The Tale of the Prom Queen I watch the end of The Tale of the Prom Queen and no Sleepwalk – just my mind creating false memories Anyway I love the first iteration of Are You Afraid Of The Dark and mum let me stay up past my bedtime to watch it, and sometimes we recorded episodes on VHS videotape vision carnivorous I know activities / PMS Christina cannibals What are your thoughts on tentacle erotica? I ask Christina. Do you know much about the Jack The Ripper victims and possible victims? says C. I watched a documentary on Jack The Ripper last week. There are five canonical victims. There was an early one that’s likely not a victim, but she’s often referenced. She was assaulted with an object that pierced her perineum and ended up killing her with peritonitis. That’s all I think of when I see the tentacle stuff. Ouchies. Well if the tentacle goes in the right hole, then it shouldn’t be a problem! But who's to say it won’t just keep going?! I don’t trust a tentacle! I was thinking about it because of Hokusai’s print of the Fisherman’s Wife. You familiar with it? Shows a woman being ravished by two octopi. Oh, no! Saucy!… SHE LET THAT BEAK IN THERE! That’s real trust. Can an octopus honor a safe word?! Would you trust me with my beak? Oh HECK no. No beaks ANYWHERE near my pocket book. I inspect Thomas’s nails before he touches me! Poor Thomas. I also know when he’s planning on having sex because he washes his hands extra good and clips his nails. It’s actually really sweet! It sounds like he’s preparing himself to tame the beast. I think of it like gearing up for a hazmat disaster. Who KNOWS what’s going on down there? Black oil? Purity? Alien colonizers? D all the above. Damn you got a big cunt to house alien colonizers, I say. In the film, Fielding, a 22-year old student at the time, drills a hole in her forehead with a dentist’s drill. Surgical scenes alternate with motion studies of Fielding’s pet pigeon Birdie Drill dresses a kind of skirt kaleidoscope: light tunnels light into my skull and the light scraps my skull sutures (Have you removed anyone’s spleen yet? None, says Taryn. What do you do in school if not organ harvesting??!? Sutures, leaving different procedures and how to hold retractors, when to use the cautery, says T) Drill reference drags my skull approaching the speed of light, and this constant C translates as Christina This skull scramjets skull fontanels and the drill floods the surface (Head like a hole black as your soul I’d rather die then give you my soul) There was quite a lot of blood… it’s not a difficult execution Ouroboros opens into my organs operation operating organs origami and the blood flows into the baffles Blood begins into blood the blown-up x-ray of my brain and I salmon suture seizures (I ate hashbrowns and thai chili salmon for lunch today) It’s not so difficult to cook the creep of my own brain This brain merely moats canister or corked bat beatitudes / no, the brain luries labyrinth The brain lyrics rime of the ancient mariner / Iron Maiden's best song and my body snails slaveship ship wrecks Ship wreck scorches skeleton coast and my head rusts craniotomies, the bone flap removed from the skull Other osteological specimens include: the Hyrtl Skull Collection, a collection of 139 skulls from Joseph Hyrtl, an Austrian anatomist This collection’s original purpose was to show the diversity of cranial anatomy in Europeans I feel tempted to collect skulls or miscellaneous body parts I feel tempted to collect preserved wet specimens / a sculpted dragon fetus Jars look nice on a shelf: they look like an organized collection of objects, even if they contain the macabre I collect Taryn teratomas and tetrodoxin, and she inseminates me with strange girlish parasites The parasites poke at my tumors; my body overgrows and gardens tumors and cysts, tissue taryn kaleidoscope, and light tunnels into cavities and different fat densities A malignant tumor removed from President Grover Cleveland’s hard palate The conjoined liver and plaster torso death cast of the famous Siamese twins Chang and Eng Bunker A piece of thoracic tissue removed from John Wilkes Booth A section of brain of Charles J. Guiteau My body in jars My body in canisters My body in urns My body in casks and the parts age in wine or whiskey or bourbon and one can turn my pickled body into sauerkraut or jam I like the idea of bodies in containers or steel barrels full of acid / this serial killer dissolves the bodies of his victims An exhibition demonstrating the development of spinal medicine and surgery and the Hammer Girl beats on my back bone bloody My spine buzzes boombox bar blast and I cut open my spine bare no spaces No speech no space but my spinal cord fizzes fissures anime girls representing the demon core The apparition in the entire train / locomotives transport the giant lobsters Various ghosts ghost sentences scoliosis I grab ghosts Ghosts gorgon and medusa ghost populations and ghost lineages, and the ghost trace trails text My television ghosts videotape, an image collapsed in an image, and the image replicates my body picture the image of my body superimposed my body icon, my body offset body and my body burns into television The cathode ray tube transmits Taryn as the secret gospel and the message mutates the female body and the body woman, and always beware woman because she gods ghosts ghost God / she the Ground god The message or secret gospel accumulates KING FELIX cumulative non-uniform use of the screen and the gospel image persists and image retains the rivets into my brain Just ghosts or only ghosts Just Gospel or only Gospel Gangrene Gengangere Dollhouse doppelgangers I live doubles and I write doubles, the shadow Yahweh covering crucifixion I sleepwalk wobble woman, gast gost goste ghost / se halga gast, guncheek leviathan I capture Spirit Photography and Ghost photography, and the ghost in the stethoscope skips scooby-doo treats and the long exposure and double image mottles most ghosts by the staircase I cut out faces and bodies from magazines to represent disembodied figures I simulate spirits by wrapping dolls in gauze and attaching photos of faces onto them Study for the Nurse in the film Battleship Potemkin and I nurse the study swords into nude body and when I scream, from my mouth a serpent My body oozes circuits and I bend circuits noise nazgul black speech a spear
A Lament For The Lamb In America
A lament for the Lamb In America with instances of remarkable lamb-like youths The lamb lobs loose nut slip it in lion vision / I depended on the word WHO to keep the beat, a base to keep measure, to return to and take off from again onto another streak in invention The WHO whore parades towards Binah and Binah boosts Malchut Moloch (Moloch whose mind in pure machinery or Moloch the incomprehensible prison Black Iron Prison and the color corrupts purple smoke plumes Here the long line structures as a stanza form spoken into exclamatory units punctuated by a base repetition, Moloch Moloch Malchut Mallet Quartet pummels pulse and I lack pulse groove rhythm The idol Moloch moros with seven chanters, chambers or chapels and I meditate in her corner passing through the everlasting arms Yahweh Moloch mlk the punic language sacrifice and the bull-headed idol outstretches her arms over fire I always write fire: word-fire sign-fire and my fire MOLOCH and MALCHUT permeates the masoretic text Whoever he be of the Children of Israel, on of the strangest that sojourn in Israel, that giventh his seed unto Molech; he shall surely be put to death; the people of the land shall stone him with stones I pick up stones and the stones breath fire The stone star fire, the early control of fire by archaic humans / If I tell you one of these sayings he spoke to me, you will pick up rocks and stone me, and fire will come from the rocks and consume you I pick up stones straw strewn at the threshold and Taryn tags fire within fires Taryn tunnels fire within fires and the fire forms figures stone: stones bright red lion-heads and the arrangement of bear skulls I meet midnight meat train Moloch and Yahweh billboards butcher Moloch march to the sea burns as Baal and the War bewitches Benjamin Woman / Taryn Tophet tacklebox ben-Hinnom The line length… You’ll notice that they’re all built on bop – you ight think of them as a bop refrain – chorus after chorus after chorus – the ideal being, say, Lester Young in Kansas City in 1938, blowing 72 choruses of “The Man I Love” until everyone in the hall was out of his head… Bebop throws homemade bombs Bebop blasts fast bursts running braid supermetroid and metroid milks Moloch strange gematria Bebop binge drinks and I drive delirium and dissociation the deep They flatted their fifths; we drank ours and I drink bebop far gone it all digs diagonal What is this What the hell is this It’s Vision It Visions My vision vulgates velociraptor and velocicoaster and St. Jerome ambushes as a dinosaur / the active predator restores the fire My vision four or fire times talks bebop retrograde and retrograde-inversion and melody weaves Moloch Malchut Motorcycle Bebop molds my brain rot into some cranium casserole Bebop molts into my erotic exoskeleton and I do not discard the molt, but dance with my empty doppelganger Interior empties blob bebop barracuda and the tenor saxophone slims fast sailfish weirdo bebop bullshit and my writing shits massive stelae, and the stelae contains the signs: satellite smoke, sinister smoke, smoke from my left hand shekinah
Do Not Fear Your Human, for That Makes The Crucifixion
I still fear writing ugly but ugly makes the path Ugly crosses recrosses the desire path, the footstep field worn woman Ugly ulcerates a pitched perfect game or immaculate inning and I bat vampire bat baseball I feel too comfortable or stagnant and I’m not pressing myself enough – what Radu Malfatti said gets to me and I search for another method, another method that meets not method like deconstruction and the trace traintrack suicide / apothecary and pharmakon Fear nothing, Benjamin: embrace all Do not fear your ugliness, for that makes you human do not fear your human, for that makes the crucifixion Not sure why but I’m comforted by gods who draw lines, says Christina. Like, lots of mercy and sacrifice first, obviously, but at some point you have to pull the car over and tell the kids the trip is over. It lets me know I have limits. It lets me know my behavior matters. I’m such a child. You’re a god though, I say. Baby god. But you grow up into strong god. No, perpetual baby. It’s why I’m not in charge. Who’s in charge? I hope it’s not Yahweh. That war monger? I know! As Tori Amos said, God do you need a woman to look after you? A woman better be in charge, I say. I repeat the Book I repeat the Book and I almost repent of the Book but the Book muses metanoia and metamorphosis I repeat the Book because I belong to the Book and I steal the Book I do not trade for the Book as a Book of Sand but I steal the Book as Prometheus and I assemble its protolanguage into paragraphs, sentences, letters… The letters lake laboratory and lighthouse, surface light and then depth light / Wizard of Oz and Pink Floyd’s Dark Side of the Moon The Book braids Book the Blessing Way Book braids Book Blessing Way and paperclip and the paper columns carve cassowaries into my skull book breaks blade stained glass and the shade shrapnels my shoulders / cigarette burns cutoff angel wings cigarette burns one-winged angel I repeat the Book as a twelve-bar blues and the Book chants spirituals work songs field hollers benjamin ballads I repeat Book and I sing Book call-and-response or hellhounds on my trail I play flat third flat fifths flat sevenths and the seventh slices easily through bone and tendon Seventh uppercuts the split third and seventh throws right cross earthworm segments / I cling the spiral staircase I climb the spiral staircase substance and spectacle / figure and ground I survive through art I survive through writing If I write, I live If I write and immerse myself, I live Life sumens art alice swing I should listen to blues more I should listen to more music I need to immerse myself in art: painting, sculpture, performance Blues with a backbeat Blues with a country beat Got a gal named Sue, know just what to do See the girl with the red dress, she can do the birdland all night long The blues bludgeons me with paintbrushes / the electric chair chars my body I repeat the Book and I repeat the blues, contact light and contact improvisation Like some classic free jazz albums (Free Jazz, Ascension, Archie Shepp’s Mama Too Tight) different saxophonists improvise simultaneously in stereo / death in stereo simultaneously ugly and this exudes ugly but I let the ugly seep into my coat and hat, hat and beard, really 9/4 when the entire band’s here One card states: scene of crime #1 – high harp harmonies, basses and trombone drone, guitar sonority sounds of water dripping and narration on top I should use index cards like Vladimir Nabokov and then I could freely arrange lines, paragraphs, concepts… The concepts collide concentric circles; no, the concepts car crash concentric circles, and a line cuts through the arcs in light empty-light Thus the musicians are not given traditional sheet music, but a series of cues or outlines that encourage improvisation I outline ouroboros: of course I outline ouroboros because Christ in the Gospel of Thomas says, if you find your beginning, there too you will find your end I outline ouroboros obscure and occult, and its axe hacks mirror modulus and the blues blurs baphomet The blues blurs howl / it was a terrifying peyote vision that was the principal inspiration for Howl / I see the facade of the Sir Francis Drake Hotel in the San Francisco fog as the monstrous face of a child-eating demon The buildings sway earthquakes and play blues on electric guitars and tablas The buildings grow brick and wood limbs and crawl blues turnarounds Buildings bulge godzilla bellies and as my apartment rent increases, the building devours me The window glass chews up my bones I repeat the same names, the same musicians, the same artists: do I need to say new names or find new light and new perspective in the repeated names? Or both simultaneously? I experience the simultaneous
I Bring In The Sheaf And The Sheaf Springs Steels Straw
I bring in the sheaf and the sheaf springs steels straw, the scarecrow scutter I bring in the sheaf and the sheaf stalk transfers or transforms starfish I bring in the sheaf subterranean and submarine and ocean brushes Wheat Woman and Barley Benjamin Ocean shelves shell sheaf, a sort of soda pop blue and I bathe bayou / I encounter an aluminum foil alligator I cross cornfield crocodile, and in the grain gibbous moon gods I converse gods grain gold in the complex plane, and I cut and paste the slalom surfaces I converse crossroads crosscurrents cross cross cross and the grain gods enter the gust The gulf sings Jenna Marbles’ Everything Is Glue and the glue horseshoe comb queues cable cars on the beach The sheaf shakes or shimmer shark shadows and I swim with goblin sharks / my body crushed into a tiny tin cube I glue my body to my body an art canvas assemblage I speak language game and I speak into existence language game and my language collects into sheaves a kind of artificial intelligence or computing machine I feel certain some advanced algorithm could mimic my writing perfectly / I move in brownian motion and markov chains I manipulate the language game into a scroll or scripture, and the God-Speech splinters psalms I rarely chant or sing psalms but the psalm slenders seldom sorcery and sorcery strikes my skull I always meditate on Psalm 88 (my soul is filled with troubles; my life draws near to sheol) I always contemplate Psalm 88 (I have been mortally afflicted since my youth; I have borne your terrors and am made numb) Psalm Hymn Spiritual language game a system of proportions in the service of spiritual impulse Vocalise for the beginning of time flutter tongues the Taryn tangled up in blue Vocalise forms solfege whale song and I vision arcade veronica, time tiger and time taryn Archeozoic (Variation I) Proterozoic (Variation II) Paleozoic (Variation III) Mesozoic (Variation IV) The variation always-already Veronica Valerie Vanessa and the Sea Theme strums Aeolian harp her hook The variation vibrates time tremors time and time hammers height Time hemlock hour and I vex variation heresy / Sea Theme and Sea Nocturne grasshopper gnosis All this variation is variation All this variation is variation and I body varial into the monotheme transformation Tracks one and two are graphically titled This is an attempt to translate the titles / I think the graphic resembles the she-goat God The tracks terror heroin like the character Taryn in Nightmare on Elm Street III: The Dream Warriors I feel the need to continually revisit and explore previous objects names The idea of something rather than nothing or the nothing spaces space I feel everything as repetition as a repetition I feel my body thrown into the hadron loop / what the fuck this collision / I fear space I fear space and emptiness or the form empty of emptiness However, continue the repetition and explore the repetition Repeat the Chaos / God in Chaos from Chaos Where: the Nag Hammadi Library Keep going motherfucker take a swing I write erratic eccentric eclipse
I Wrestle Writing and Noise
I stop taking my medication I dream self-destruction or deconstruction fails in its hairpin overturning Friendships fail or I plant seventy explosives napoleon blown apart and I start a land war in Russian but I approach my own total war and scorched earth / I battle my body total war and scorched earth My body merely whips wisps a ghost story (It leapt upon him in an instant. Illustration by James McBoyle for M.R Jamis story “Oh, Whistle, and I’ll Come to You, My Lad.”) I whistle ghost werewolf woman and wolf walks the wake of my footprints / I’ve got to keep moving I’ve got to keep moving blues falling down like hail, and the days keeps on worrying me, there’s a hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail, hellhound on my trail… Hellhound haskins hyperousias and the black dog degrades decays corpse flower corsage fiction corpse serpent There is no reference without difference, with difference, without the operations of textuality, differential spacing, and contextuality I live reside text, I sleep context, the difference and difference diverge separating my limbs tied to four horses and then maybe four elephants Text tumbles acrobat arkansas stone queer quadrapeds Text tightrope walks between the wolf and woman, and text tracks paths makas traces / specter spell mayhem and the word riots The Word crucifies nad my body bloats difference My flesh consumes fugu tetrododoxin or tetragrammaton I listen to Black Vomit by Anthony Braxton and Wolf Eyes I need more noise I need more noise and I rustle metal constructions I brush noise tile tildon tourist trap but the geyser gallops run ruin horse races / the kentucky derby is decadent and depraved I need noise gonzo journalism molotov cocktail and noise stews smoke and I set off the fire always cooking pasta with a faulty burner I should learn SuperCollidor even though I failed to learn before – I was too impatient – I have to take my time to learn the language I’ve always admired the great work of Walt Disney and the idea of the theme park, says Anthony Braxton. And so I’ve tried to, in my work, develop a music system, to develop a theme park system where theory can jump off the blackboard into real life, says Mr. Braxton I don’t feel familiar with Walt Disney's work but of course I grew up watching Disney movies and one time I attended Disneyland as a child but I have few memories of it (I now always associate Disneyland with Christina) Fuck forget it I can’t write but if I stop writing, I die I will write nonsense and I will write process I embrace my ugly and non-beauty and I write the ugly and nonbeauty, my own writing body My writing body writes to survive Writing rummages rampage survival money jungle and I spit fire in my mouth I fuck with fire writing and the fire fuss with Star Fox and the FX chip / awesome low resolution polygons Polygons play the secret final boss, a giant slot machine and an arrangement of When The saints jams peanut butter and jelly sandwiches I need noise performance and video, and I write veronica valerie vekoma suspended looping coaster and the restraints headbang heavy metal I want to listen to more Paul Desmond, more Warne Marsh, more Lee Konitz I read the liner notes to the Anthony Braxton and Evan Parker duets in 1993, and the author compares the duets as an avant-garde version of the West Coast jazz saxophonists like Warne Marsh and Lee Konitz, and Anthony Braxton has cited their playing along with Paul Desmond as inspiration (Well, I’d say Paul, Coltrane, and Warne Marsh would put their stamp on me deeper than any other instrumentalists, says Braxton in his 1985 interview with Graham Lock) The Empire will not win if the secret Christians continue to prophesy the secret message and secret gospel, I say to Christina. If they stop transmitting the message writing and prophecy, the empire will have won. Philip K. dick said the Empire Never Ended. Also about how we are all secretly trapped in the black iron prison without knowing it. I feel the empire is winning. Humanity is doomed or something apocalyptic. I’m not doing enough. I need to write more. I need to read more. I need to learn more. I need to make art. This will destroy the empire and the black iron prison. To transmit the secret gospel… I need to listen better and quieter I want to write the sound kitchen sink dripping microscopic deluge or the deluge microcosm orgasm I listen to Albert Ayler and Taku Sugimoto and I somehow think or write these worlds co-exist They happen simultaneously they occur all-time and I like these sounds He initially gained attention in the late 1990s for his restrained, melodic playing, unusual in the world of free improvisation / I cannot restrain my free improvisation I need noise / I write wild abandon I write to survive and I write wild abandon abbadon abyss Sounds like a high voltage metamorphosis of snow with inverted time waves Sounds like a biomechanical organism having described it could fart for the first time Around 2002 his music became increasingly abstract, all but eliminating melody and featuring extended periods of silence / I eliminate nothing band I eliminate everything (Word Water Word Woman Silence sequences god’s semen Silence sulfurs slaughterhouse and silence squeezes the tarantula shuttle Sometimes I like silence and silence sustains surplus and the surplus suggests secret silence secret gnosis Gnosis nurses noise and the silence at once twice duet doppelgangers Listen to everybody so you know what not to play I listen to everybody and I obsess sound language and I search for sound language word / Word Woman Language laughs the mysteries and the mysterion myo munnae maverick the Cult of Christina / I work in mystery and through mystery I work in mystery and through mystery metaroad and metamotion I work in mystery multiplicity and mixes multitude, and the serpent summas salt I salt my salmon and I cook mysterium eschaton chesed eleven echoes of autumn Listen to everybody to know what not to play I listen Here Comes Everybody and Anna Livia Plurabelle, and I write optima olefin I write osprey oddball and everybody oddballs the shy giant octopus I go to Monterey Bay Aquarium and the Giant Octopus shies away from visitors Who would win in a fight, the Cambrian Explosion or the Ordovician Radiation? The Animal arias archi-writing, this writing mimicking both that awful rowing toward god and I sing the body electric, and I watch episode 100 of the Twilight Zone I Sing The Body Electric written by Ray Bradbury I sing the body electric and my body folds paper airplanes or assembles electric motorboats as the remote control chases channels / so gather the sheep and the herd joys jehovah I sing the body electric and I modify my body four elements / all halo alchemy Absence of the writer too. For to write is to draw back. Not to retire into one’s tent, in order to write, but to draw back from one’s writing itself Absence cuts into absence new absence Absence cuts chaos trick clay cloud of unknowing and I write darkness in darkness I write dark damsel in distress tied to railroad tracks but Christina rescues me I write absence into the cut, grass clippings from a manual lawnmower, and the mulch machines alchemical mercury / the lawnmower destroys the zombie balloon and I trip over blood and decaying body parts The absence in atoms Anthony Braxton’s For Alto and alto armies arche Written romps play archi-writing and the archi-writing too writes rope Hanged Man Son of Man However, felling that his skills on piano were inadequate, he decided to create a particular language for the saxophone Absence anvils aporia, the knot knotted tenor saxophone and my solo sticks cellophane or saran wrap surgery (I close up my guts with plastic wrappers and bubblegum) Absence gog and magogs aporia and I play an unaccompanied tenor saxophone solo and the improvisation transmits the secret signals: four gospels and four hundred gospels, and every 144,0000 writes a different but complementary gospel / Christ camelbacks many contradictions
I Listen To Harry Partch’s The Crane
When the sky was at its darkest, guests gathered in the first of the three rooms, taking turns orating tales of ghoulish encounters and reciting folkloric tales passed on by villagers who claimed to have experienced supernatural encounters The room reeks of corpses The room reeks exquisite corpses and my automatic writing performs autopsies The room remote control or the room replays random and the ghosts reshape my body route 66 The room rabbits ghost train and ghost roller coaster and the route rummages my body different sections differentiated sections Section possesses section poltergeist and I noise nuemes numismatic and the coin cranes gematria I listen to Harry Partch’s The Crane and its cry is mournful in the reed plane mimicking ghosts and the ghost calls to mind something which she wants to forget I live too many rooms and perhaps Radu Malfatti spoke correctly with his room analogy: too many notes divided up the rooms into little cells, and the permission of silence creates one or two large rooms I write too many rooms but I cannot rewrite Aram Saroyan: rather I feel compelled to explore as many rooms as possible, a kind of Castlevania (this castle is a creature of chaos, says Alucard. With each rebirth, it takes a new form) I feel compelled to explore as many rooms as possible and as well as its permutations, rotations, symmetries, and translations / all rooms ghost all rooms haunt all rooms god The room rides roller coaster remainder, the remnant horse bodies and pig ears, and the ritual roundabout approaches the reach / ghost coast christina and Sonny Sharrock playing Space ghost Coast to Coast I study the room: the room renders empty fat and I flay my fat flush to the button The room modifies my body piercings tattoos arrows and I copy the Stations of the Cross The room reaps wheat and my boats slide out The room hosts harvest wheat woman and I sing autumn songs autumn leaves song of degrees: there went three kings into the east, three kings both great and high; and they have sword a solemn oath, John Barleycorn must die… My body repents John Barleycorn and I drink dry whiskey woman My body butter-churns John Barleycorn and kings reap and malt my body material mercury, an alchemical grain benjamin beer guts god / Beowa and Barleycorn are one and the same, and the folk song details the suffering, death, and resurrection of Barleycorn, yet also celebrates the reviving effects of drinking his blood I imbibe pagan barley and barley pluralistic and barley theatrics, and barley ferments in my stomach scroll speech and I scribe Alice Apocalypse Alice Alicia Rabbit skull The Rabbit robes room in Abyss and I gyarados god abyss I pick up my corn dolly and the spirit of the corn wraps me wreath wraith writhing Woman The corn spirit spends the winter in my apartment conversing with archangels and covering cherubs and then I plough my corn dolly into the first furrow of the season When I was nineteen or twenty years old, I found an old copy of the Golden Bough: A Study in Magic and Religion by Sir James Frazer in a small room for the writing tutors in the Porterville College Library, and I read selections from it in my spare time Although outdated and mostly superseded, it proved influential on my conceptions of folklore, mythology, and magic The book opened one room into many rooms, the multitude of mythologies and the multiplicity of mythologies, and I want to embrace the contradictions in totality while allowing them to be contradictions I have no desire to resolve contradictions: the panoply of contradictions provides truth in itself The eternal recurrence of the sevenfold division of the sevenfold division of the universe as a river of space and time I listen to George Crumb’s Eleven Echoes of Autumn (Echoes I) and Echoes of Time and the River (Echoes II) and the echo e-bows eternal recurrence The echo edge evols elephant and she limps to her graveyard, Yahweh time and the Abyss … Y los arcos rotos dondi sufre el tiempo (...and the broken arches where time suffers cuts sevens and sevenfold a quiet sabbath The queer sabbath echoes my excess and extension, and I ink insects into time: exoskeleton metamorphosis the erotic exodus I ink insects into time without interruption and my flesh ferns fossils / silt deposits, salt, shell, shale My flesh fossilizes fantastic, lavender languidamente and quasi lontano, and I play cadenzas on alto flute, drawing a piece of hard rubber on the strings My flesh feigns a fencing blow or abyss, frozen time remembrance of time collapse of time last echoes of time Time disassembles twelve-tone equal temperament microtones schism scorched skittles taste the rainbow be the rainbow theremin Microtones flicker structural film and animates on the one continuously smooth My smooth body stuffed with styrofoam stipples strange steel or provides stipend for a stratocoaster Stratocoaster launches my body continuous but non-differentiable, and my body bounces breaks angles cusps quarter-tones or approximations of eleventh harmonic partials
Something About Sound Or Whatever
Bruitist poem as the phonetic poem, not so different from the futurist poem. Invented by Richard Huelsenbeck Simultaneous poem poem read in different languages with different rhythms, tonalities, and by different persons at the same time. Invented by Tristan Tzara Movement poem the poem accompanied by primitive movements The movement minotaur paints matte black massacre and I blake black snake moan floating medusa heads in the clock tour / gearbox gulf god I move slow machine simultaneous and my body bores boars simultaneous My body bevels simultaneous edges the compound grind and compound insect eyes I write because if I do not write, I stop existing I write because I exist, and this existence engulfs Gospel Gospel always-already a ghost mouths minotaur parables, and I write the single parable I write the parable solitary soliton singularity, and this zero points selah psalms This zero puncture salems psalms and Siamese Dream by the Smashing Pumpkins celebrates its 20th anniversary Music mimes mescaline or Amantia muscaria and music mutates my organs Taryn tumors march of the pigs The pig mimics human flesh and I substitute pig carcass for ballistic gel The Lilith Logos Motherfucker Deconstruction Dissociation Desert The Archaen Ur speaks ubbi dubbi and in the beginning, language game language play Lilith Logos winter cabin cunt The Ur-Text ob odos ocean I sleep horseshit habitat and I wear Rene Magritte’s hat My helmet helminthes cat in the hat and I rhyme many oranges an orange dissociation I dissociate deconstruction trace difference trace and the logos laminates bone maximum maxilla I created a new species of verse, verse without words or sound poems I recited the following: gudgi beri bimba glandridi lauli lonni cadori… Sound sounds sound-skeleton / carton bone xylophones I watch silly symphonies the skeleton dance and I throw my skull scrabble scattergories gore / Peak reached when one skeleton plays the spine of another in xylophone fashion, using ap air of thigh bones as hammers My muscles mallet xylorimba zebra and logos bones my ligaments cat-o-nine tails Skeletons hoof and frolic and my flesh fragile flagrant fragment fissures skull fragment flagrant fragment One throws his skulls at a hooting owl and knocks the latters feathers off and I flap my arm feathers ur-bird dinosaur I plot sewer holes beneath my eyes and water waste run off pours from my head / I’m a little teapot short and stout I listen to Camille Saint-Saens Danse Macabre, the Leopold Stokowski version with scratches and static, and I live in this vinyl record like a haunted house (the piece makes particular use of the xylophone to imitate the sounds of rattling bones) Sound fucks my skull cranium cunt vibrations Sound seed secretes black sputum and my coffee ground vomit wormrots vile vermin / I awake and I find myself transformed into a giant insect I listen to Found Out About You by the Gin Blossoms on loop and I feel a total disconnect busy signal at the suicide hotline I feel my head bowls bowels discombobulation and I found out about you / whispers at the bus stop well I’ve heard about nights out in the school yard / I found out about you and I suppose she resembles ghosts She wears high heels vanishing hitchhiker and I aim my car at immovable objects The invincible crash barrier coaxes open my air bag but I do not wear my seat belt and I vault through the windshield onto concrete I feel faded but I write so death doesn’t drink the liquefied marrow in my backbone Death, too, deconstructs Death reveals or opens my body absent the occlusion God in my iris Yahweh scrapes my cornea with brimstone and Hell serves exotic cocktails When I write, I hear the voice of the Book which sometimes also channels the voice of God The eschaton inflames as erysipelas and I tattoo reformed egyptian on my exposed femur Streptococcus pyogenes pythias scroll speech and she asks what makes a sun dress a sun dress, and the sun summers serpent sigil / the serpent is the son of man, you know The eschaton exits exotoxins and Taryn nomads necrosis, my gangrene god The syrup psychosis pocks my beak body and I unearth skulls with clearly visible drillings / in my stupor I trepann Taryn turnips I pull up turnips in Super Mario Brothers 2 and I platform flying carpets This psychosis stirs soup and my brain stews soft black tea body I surround myself with books and pens and pocket knives and other material objects because I’m an empty human being I’m void inside My body’s interior lacunas ghost stories My body’s interior lacewings ghost stories My body brackets an enfleshed phenomenology, and I move my limbs photographs and motion pictures God lowers a camera into my cranium, bone brain cinema, and I dream of the Caspar the Friendly Ghost and the episode There’s Good Boos Tonight and all dies: all dies including Parousia and Ferdie the Little Fox and the Fox in the Little Prince (Ah, I shall cry. It’s your own fault. I never wished you any sort of harm, but you wanted me to tame you… Yes that is so. Then it has done you no good at all! It has done me good because of the color of the wheat fields) This tale is part of the Aarne-Thompson Type 366 which means that corpse come back from the dead to claim what was stolen from them, usually a body part, article of clothing, or object. This stems from the belief that a dead man or animal can find no rest until its physical remains are intact. My body parts depart body and seizes her ghost My body parts positive deconstruction and she assembles my body dovetail construction dove joints feathers time out of joint ur-text ur-hamlet My body ovals black obelisk and her ghost carves into my cliff body proto-writing / the sigil anticipates the antelope My body paintbrush buffers Battletoads Nintendo Hard and obelisk stick-pricks my skin the paleo-palette ochre ogre horror A skull is more interesting than a naked woman and she sculpts straight into the sclera / pickaxe lobotomy I guess To believe is to suffer. It is like loving someone in the dark who never answers. Death as God blinks with the same eye The eye erupts interrupt viscera, plague pustules whose fluid swims salix serials The eye interrupts and the plague pus turns into prism the silent sigh rainbow Radon rainbow kaiden crows death god death the strange apparition mysterious apparition bewitching apparition light itself haunts I visit revisit ghost ghosts and ghosts legion light Ghosts legion my light, the library or the laboratory, and the light loops layers the haunted house
Vision and Mysticism 