I Prophesy Without A Center

Museum blurs pulse blue hue broken hum     Museum blurs her pulse perfect blue hell hue / bard and beats clash cover photographs     Scum museum snow north american scum scalloped intravenous     Intravenous vision intestines     Intestines interior bell hell     Bell hop drive up hell handsome skeleton samples     Sample handsome horses     Insect intestines vision intestines: innards sermons to the dead     Sermons to the dead dare bare (They don't stay dead!  NIGHT OF THE LIVING DEAD they keep coming back in a bloodthirsty lust for human flesh!  Pits the dead against the living in a struggle for survival)

I write to survive     I write to survive any dead   any dead dust or lust / grappled light light sampled rhythm

I write to survive fresnel lens in forest sward / short sword write sorcery     Not a shortened language but a more compact language buries share dead

I’ve been listening to a lot of emo music and I feel sad because I’m old as fuck but I have all these teenage feelings, I say.  It’s embarrassing.  Teenage feelings are just feelings! says C.  [I send Christina lyrics to the song Why Can’t I Be Snowing by Camping In Alaska]  I listen to that song a lot, I say.  Isn’t that embarrassing?  Whoa.  Damn.  No, it’s good, says C.  It captures a lot.  I’m listening to a lot of emo lately and I feel like a kid and not a grown up and I feel fucked absolutely, I say.  Feelings are hard, says C, and we didn’t have anyone to guide us when we were young.  Give yourself a break.  Some people never face this shit even, says C.  I don’t know why I feel this desperation or this feeling of fuck this fuck everything, I say.  It's just emotions, says C.  It's human.  It will wax and wane, she says.  

My paintings do not have a center but depend on the same interest throughout     I do not write center     I do not write center but I displace center decentered     Center decohered everywhere     I write the same interest throughout the sprawl of varying intensities     Center uncentered intensities flows circuits (I WAS A LOVE SLAVE by the girl whose confession smashes the Los Angeles vice mark)     vice mark gospel of mark     This is the gospel of Jesus Christ Son of God     Mark punk mosh pit or wind monsoon (I was just like brainstorming, says C.  I prefer to call them mind monsoons, I say… I prefer to call them trepanning tempests, I say.  Dum dum dumpers? Says C.  Maybe I don't understand this game.  Is dum dum dumper what you call your butt? I say.  Well, your head is a butt, says C.  Because you’re a butthead.)

Forest sard, unleveled, orchis and orchis singly

Forest as human phrase figure     Forest human figure phrase film     I phrase flesh rhythm rhythm sample forest soil     I fold forest flesh flesh sward short sword: slate shard sleet, the swan sim of slapstick     I swashbuckle slapstick, the frequent forest fluid exhaling black bear bagatelles     Black bear ball gowns gelatin skeleton hominy   hominy harmony     Hominy harmonium harmolodics     Harmolodic trilobite fossils / forest swarth cambrian explosion

Forest swarth locust swarm swarm left-handed cicadas

Forest swarth sweats sap soft human surfaces     Soft friction sinfonia     Soft flesh: my flesh forest     Forest ben skin circuit bent peeled to the bone on my right side     Forest scab scarab ben bodies (he died alone in the field one summer morning   six weeks later, a sunflower grew out of his head)

Forest fjord phyrgian languages: forest flesh phyrgian     Flesh physique physics fight forest

My paintings do not have a center but depend on the same amount of interest throughout

A relation to the steppe and garden / desert and oasis

I write the mystical bridal chamber – the brothel – the chamber pot     I read too much Bataille     Bataille instills redistills a given scatological holy ghost glossolalia

Steppe and garden stuck muck body margins

Steppe garden alligator stair up ruins     Up pillar pluck park bodies beat parakeet     Up awl pillar shot put shotgun garden steppe

Steppe shaped ghost stair shutter: camera shutter candle sand hand sum steppe     Steppe seeps trash heap ben bodies / body ben hinnom

I steep the steppe in my skin, articulation of tubers by fragmentation / ben bodies pushed out into the steppes of nomads     I nomad naked the recapitulation of her name

I feel stuck on the steppe steppe without flow     Steppe no inflow no outflow my body forces forest (ben bodies deconstruction / deforestation)

Forest feed flesh flood flow     Forest ever every all earth body (earth uniformly directed towards the south: forests irregularly interrupted by sun)     Ben bodies montane grasslands and shrublands large land bodies

Ben hinnom hell hum forest swarth locust swarm charm left-handed cicadas     Handed hinnom hummus cicadas     Lateral cackle cicadas dada dune drum orchid (I slide towards this valley)

Great white shark sorcerer / dwarf lantern shark shaman

I experiment and I feel foolish but the fool feelers forests     I let the forest female trio and trio cartoon experiments     I experiment failure and fail the writing ritual writing     Writing wrecks round raw over failures: failure cups cusp placed back out the rhizome (my axon and the dendrite twist around each other like birdweed around brambles, with synapses at each of the thorns     My thorns turn tar taste my thorns     My thorns twin tar taste my thorns / arrows slopes room) (Arrows slow slopes room rhizome)

Each line a new mind (focus) (mind monsoon)     Each line a new mind (now I am ready   now I am ready   now I am ready   to receive   the new mind   the new mind)

Each line a new mind rather than divisions determines by breaks of sound, syntax

What this line what this experiment

What this line what experiment: new mind different mind     New museum: this museum melt my mess body wholly hell healing     Sometimes experimental heal

Great white shark sorcerer / dwarf lanternshark shaman     I share shark shaped canvas

I transform     I change I change the writing     I transform     Taryn do you see my transformation     Asia Rhizome do you see my transformations     Rather than divisions determined by breaks of sound or syntax      Summed sounds: solar anus     Sounds sequences solar anus my anus is bleeding

I accidentally got my husband quoting the song “Jesus Freak” and now I want to fully expose him to early 2000s Christian music, says Asia.  We were playing Lobotomy Corp – it’s a game where you have SCP anomaly / monsters that you manage in order to extract energy out of them without killing people.  And there was this floating skull dude with a cross behind him, people confess their sins to him and we kept referring to him as a Jesus Freak, then I started singing it and it was all downhill from there, says Asia.

Incident   Accident   aleatoric   Accident   Immediate     Immediate landscape dwarf lanternshark     I intimate an immediacy: experiment as egg or irregular ovum     Writing fucks: I rewrite rope     I burn books dreaming     Dress dream undressed death     Death death     Death death sorcery

I copy again parts from Sol Lewitt’s letter to Eva Hesse:  Learn to say “Fuck You” to the world once in awhile… Stop it and just DO … Do more.  More nonsensical, more crazy, more machines, more breasts, penises, cunts, whatever – make them abound with nonsense… Don't worry about cool, make your own uncool.  Make your own world.  If you fear, make it work for you – draw and paint your fear and anxiety.. You must practice being stupid, dumb, unthinking, empty.  Then you will be able to do DO… try to do some BAD work – the worst you can think of and see what happens but mainly relax and let everything go to hell – you are not responsible for the world – you are only responsible for your work – so DO IT

I do it and I am doing it     I write and I am writing it     I write a mess mascara mollusk malarkey     Molecule gastronomy new combine stations of the cross (The crow arises and steals the dreams from my eyes   I kneel down and kiss ground   Stations of a new cross)     I cross myself in a catholic way / I cross myself in a byzantine way     I avoid the question mark and the rhetorical question / I hug and kiss the question mark and the rhetorical question (what is this     women surround me stone circles timber circle cave mouth     what mouth wild mouse desiring-machines)

My paintings do not have a center but depend on the same amount of interest throughout

I prefer sticks, trowels, knives, and dripping fluid paint or heavy impasto with sand, broken glass, or foreign material added

Material: Materiality     Brick or babel material     Running brook book book rhizome rivulets     Stick steppe vampire steak or stalk     wheat stalk women threshing floor forest (regeneration, reproductions, returns, hydras, and medusas do not get us any further)

I regenerate as return experiment and I reproduce the tree     I medusa unity or the one-two and not rhizomic multiplicity (a map and not a tracking) (I reduce map to tracing     I project the trace as image and I worship it as icon)

I doubt I’ll ever write truly rhizomic but I doubt anyone can     Multiplicity and rhizome realize – revenant – reinscribe – anarchy and flat ontologies     I attempt a creative anticipation of realized and rhizomic anarchy     I admit finally I adhere to some form of anarchism – if nothing else then at least a creative anarchism     I anticipate a kingdom – an hauntological christian eschaton kingdom – a kingdom within you kingdom here nonhierarchical – the flat flutter and flatter – the very kingdom of gods and kingdom of heavens completely made kenotic: empty, poured out absolutely, this material material kingdom     Kingdom matter element atom stuffs     Fields fucked other earth body flat macrocosm compresses identical to microcosm     I write anarchic kenosis and anarchic crucifixions (this Christianity haunts my ben bodies eternal but I hammer the ghosts flat)

Conversations About Wrestling With Writing

May I quickly tell you something I wrote in the Book, I say.  Sure, says Asia.  I wrote tonight, summarized:  I am disconnected with myself.  I can’t express my emotions plainly in writing.  I have to quote and steal and misinterpret to express my feelings.  I can’t love myself because its’ empty and disconnected and projects.  Damn, that might be one of the rawest things I’ve seen you write, says Asia.  It’s even uglier in long form, I say.  I try quoting stuff to express my angst and commenting how dumb this all is… That leftist cooks video.  One part talks about how it's good to be a mess.  Harm and trying to make things right is messy.  Society is dumb for wanting things clean and easy and quick forgiveness and restoration.  But it's a mess.  I feel like a mess to myself, but I realize I am prophesying to myself.  You said I prophesy to the lost.  I am the lost.  I'm prophesying to myself.  Yes, exactly right, says Asia.  And by doing that you will prophesy to others, she says.

Reading your previous message, says Christina.  That sounds like impostor syndrome.  We all steal.  Nothing is completely new.  It’s all remixes.  That's may not help you with your feelings but I promise you every creator before and after you has grappled with the same concept, says C.  It’s a different thing though when I cannot express my own feelings in writing plainly, without being ironic or occult or mystical about it, I say.  Are you afraid of feeling strong emotion or is it something else? says Christina.  I think there’s two parts.  One is feeling disconnected and out of touch with myself.  The second is sincere expression of emotion that feels unliterary and unpoetic to me so it’s difficult for me to express in my usual medium of writing, I say.  The good news is the first issue can be addressed immediately, says C.  Maybe some more mindful actions during the day?  More meditation?  And I think the second one is connected.  If you aren’t fully connected with yourself, then you’ll be out of practice writing with sincere emotional expression.  With more practice, you’ll find ways to incorporate it in a more literary / poetic way.  Do you mediate?  No, I am unable to meditate.  What if it’s guided?  Only if it’s guided by your mom.  (Christina laughs in response).  It’s helpful for me, says C.  It teaches me to take a little extra time before freaking out or moving on, she says.  My brain broils with brackish bile and bone banjos, I say.  It’s very difficult to still it.  I will be honest – I don’t plan on working on it.  It feels not good.  I get the thought I could be creating something instead, I say.  Sorry, didn’t want to be pushy about it.  It’s just the only thing that works for me.  The reason it’s hard for me is because I’ve always hated myself.  I never wanted to be alone with myself, says C.  You’re fine, I say.  I also hate myself and don't want to be alone with myself, I say.  GO FUCKING MEDITATE BEN, says C.  I MEDITATE IN YOUR MOM'S GRAND CANYON VAGINA, I say.

I write restless naked / nonsense fuck

Low tilted window low quilted window

Attic arctic anvil     Attic appetite archaic human     Animal opposite window

Clumsy window widow     Black widow ben bodies     I build ben bodies top-down then ground-up     I grapple ground grindcore     Fuck ground but give bodies: bountiful bodies bouncing bodies     Fuck time I arrange bodies and books out of order and out of time     Bodies time of joint grand guinol / graboid gravel orgasm     I organize bodies undifferentiated     Undifferentiated now noun noise     New noun noise nail gun name     I discard all names and all texts and begin again     I begin again imaginary immediately virtual

Each line a new mind (focus)     Each line a new focus (flesh)     I find flesh figure and flesh finger severed fine-toothed comb     Comb jelly jolly rancher rivets and rhizomes     Rhizome ravioli / pasta aporia (I write stupid shit like penne pasta palm tree garden)

Fuck this writing

(FUCK EVERYTHING ABOUT THIS) (Two beers in already feels like it’s one of those nights to forget     The more I drink the more I feel broken and alone)

I quote the song Two Beers In by Free Throw because I lack my own languages / I blunder language obliteration     Obliterations abomination of abominations avalanche ash     I animate ugly ben bodies ben hinnom     I animate the groundlings of my guts ugly overwhelming: word oubliette or Marquis De Sade Juliette     I erase Marquis De Sade from any book text but Georges Bataille reinscribes it (my face flashes with blood bares red and obscene)     An obscene oculus / mirrors gehenna hungry ghost: feral hog hauntology     I hesitate hauntings but the ghosts persist     Ghosts persist to repel ghosts

Fuck everything about this / the fuck names my own hands distractions     Hands hacksaw shark tooth masturbations     Bottle nose dolphin desert: bottle cap ejaculation     Fuck my own concepts of literariness, obscure language, and the necessity for the poetic and metaphor     I embody my musical dissonance and my cognitive dissonance and displace or project my fear of boredom through the imaginary and self-imposed constraints of my writing that only speak to a root experience and not a rhizome experiment     Experiment ugly and write ugly


I share and summarize some writing sideshow thoughts with Christina:

I was thinking of the photography of Joel Peter-Witkin, I say.  He is known for photographing those with deformities, dwarfism, and transsexuals and intersex, as well as corpses and cadavers, and his transgressive work has been accused of being exploitative by some.  I think it’s beautiful but also a troublesome relationship there.  Violet really likes his work.  She said it’s definitely problematic to try make art on another group when you’re not part of it.  She says she exploits herself for her art which is the best kind of art exploitation.  It made me think though there’s always an exploitation element between artist and subject.  I write you.  I have your permission and consent.  But I still use you even a little bit.  There’s different levels of exploitation but I’m telling your story partly… Anyways I’m going to write about Violet more.  She says she would love if I exploit her (her exact words) for my book.  But it’s tricky, right?  And a struggle.  I’m going to get things wrong even if I try not to.  But I think the only way to grow is to wrestle with it and learn and come out the other side… I’m thinking of tracing through the crucified body of Christ, the bodies of saints and martyrs, the bodies of beggars, the orphan, the widow, the bodies ignored and left in outer darkness by hierarchy and fundamentalism… A body that reveals our bodies as awe and horror, which is every body.  They are also bodies under industrial revolution, under capital and exploited labor: same as all bodies… Not to reduce their bodies to that but to have a partial community with all our bodies, I say.  I do appreciate the grapple, says Christina.  And you’re running into the problem at its core.  Do you have to write only your self?  And I think the answer is no, so I think it leaves room for discussion for all other subjects, she says.  What do you mean by discussion with other subjects? I say.  I mean I don’t think it’s a hard no on writing other people, she says.  Like it’s not necessarily exploitation.  Maybe not, I say, but one has to be careful not to speak for them.  I don’t think I speak for you in the book.  Yeah, says C.  It’s also not that you have free reign.  You do what you’re doing now and if you mess it up, you fix it, she says.  It would be funny if I spend all this time writing about wrestling writing about the sideshow and then never actually writing about it.  It’s research! says C.

(Editing Note: I did indeed abandon the long-term project of writing about sideshows and those who participated in them, but perhaps I will return to it at a future time)

I Return To The Cave And The Rock Water Rejuvenates

Asia and I grow experience growth pangs in our friendship: I've grown dependent on her and take up much of her time to growing frustration     I acknowledge my dependence has become a detriment and I also realize Asia too needs to grow and I can't expect her to be an unpassable rock of infinite patience and support: I too need to be patient and support her and grow together     I expect misunderstandings, misinterpretations, pain, and anger as we figure it out and learn to grow     That said, I also expect Asia and I to remain friends for the rest of our lives and I have faith we will figure it out how to maintain a healthy strong friendship     I decide to write – directly and indirectly – my unhealthy dependence on her and use writing as a therapeutic technique and as a healing (there is a balm in gilead that heals the wounded soul)     I may write Asia differently as a result

Is the Book worth writing without you?  Is the Book still good without you? I say.  I don’t know what it would look like without me, says Asia.  But I have a felling that others would come in and give you feedback and collaborate too.  You always have people to nurture it, she says.  Do you think the Book is still prophetic without you?  It was prophetic before me, she says.  I am not writing you out but its’ necessary to confront my dependency on you in the Book, I say.  So it may change how I write you.  I still feel you’re one of my closest friends and I still feel you’re a big creative influence on me, but I think part of being healthy as a person and a friend will involve having to write and confront this.  I think it’s good to confront that, says Asia.  I’m not going anywhere but it’s still good to separate those things, she says.

I return to the cave and rewrite the cave     I prepare the precipice as prayer / play prayer aporia     I prepare precipice prayer and prayer surrounds stone circles and timber circles     Timbre circles circular cedar breaks at dawn / dawn choir cedars of lebanon

I rewrite cave rewrite / I rewrite cave radio rewrite     Cave jags crass jigsaw falling into place     Cave displaces sour rock everything in its right place

Cave rewrite cave rotoscope ben bodies drawn out over animated     Cave animated over under ben bodies / cave catechism cadillac awe glossolalia

Geological glossolalia / tongues weathered lithified     Lithified light languages / low bipolar lithium     

Rewrite cave copys copies catastrophies

Cave interrupts my eye erosion inside eruption     Eye magma mine microphone     Cave eye slits back to belly other: outer darkness gurgle     Ave clams bone shell swells slit back to belly other bodies     Bodies bone shell other bodies swell blood     Bodies swell blood other to at throat heroic bloodshed hummingbirds     Cave mouth cave eye inlets bodies inside islands: bodies amid bodies around arid acid rain     Acid rain rhizome twelve tone row rhizome     Cave eye aleatoric axe bodies harmolodics: advent harmolodic upper tone alto saxophone altissimo

Arnica cave arachnid mouth chords     Arnica calves cave arachnid: spider icebergs borg bodies altissimo     I eyebright aura lights she lights the lights aurora      Eyebright ben bodies bald robotics bald eagle (I spy a bald eagle in sweet springs by the estuary)     I copy my body comic book california coast california condor

Cave as book of Common Prayer consumes california condors transmuted into automobile airbags     Cave mines museum not autonomous couples condor with false flesh (false flesh aleph automorphsims)     Body cave carves capital body without organs     Body cave carves curves and I attract God’s x-rays to myself

Body cave chorea encrypted choreography 

Body cave casks clashes / the axon and the dendrite twist around each other like bindweed around brambles, with synapses at each of the thorns

My brain brambles and I disconnect     I detail disconnection and I feel my flesh expand desert multidirectional     My body empties my body ghosts     Body ghost gores whore of babylon / my body babels blood gut geyser

I disconnect and I do not discover     Body dusts desert nothing     While I went to the Mount of Olives, I bend down and write with my finer on the ground and once again     I bend down I write on the ground my body falls to through grand hollow earth desert

(How will I drink from that stream     How will my heart sing your praise     How will I lay down in green grass field     When my soul is so afraid to rejoice)

I do not rejoice but erect earthworks endserenading     I serenade holy ghost seduces me graphic ore graphomania     Mall manic I do not rejoice but jab desert gods then sea gods eventual desertification     I dig desert diagonal bodies / body to body job to job

I forget to rejoice     I forget the fog of my own flesh     Unfurnished flesh unfinished flesh folded fog lights

Cave mouth south sword flashes

(So I’ll move to Portland by myself     Buy some furniture and silverware     And eat dinner all alone     I’m sorry for complaining all the time     This’ll be the last time that I write     Just like I said I won’t pick up the phone)

I don’t write for the last time but I go back to the room and write     I go back to the room and listen to Park Jefferson and I let the music rewrite and reinscribe my body     I let musics take my body desert carcass cross carcosa     I digest desert multidirectional and I siphon ghosts / ouroboros oasis     Ouroboros only bodies     bodies piled empty bodies take no space at all / point electrons

Cave mouth south strikes forests stick figures

Forest sward, unleveled, orchis and orchis singly

Sward short sword: sward slick sword     Sward slick sword slick sword quicker     Sward sword slice slick quicktime luminescence     (I work what this fuck what this means nothing     I work what this earth endserenading I rejoice nothing     Endserenading eaves drops my body nothing)

(The definition of a diary but I put it into a song     did you forget you said forever when I asked how long you’d stay?)

I do not write write dairy and put it into a song:  I dislike writing first person because I idiot-fuck idiot wind and I obscure my emotions with ironic quotations and intertextuality     I shroud my face and body occult lyrical pile-up swan long languages (Never my own languages because I deer distance ben obliterated / Robert Smith sing-whines I can’t find myself) (Peter Sellers on The Muppet Show:  There is no me.  I do not exist… there used to be a me, but I had it surgically removed…)     I quote and I fuck up and misread the quote     I plagiarize and misappropriate

Sward short sword: sward slick sword     Shard sideshow sword slice thick quick lime luminescence (luminescent luminescence / erection and sun scandalize the same way as cadavers and the darkness of cellar doors)

Slice slick holy spirit quicklime luminescence

I sketch sorcerers or shamans     I sketch sorcerer and shaman snow in water happenings

– From a Conversation with Asia almost 2 years ago – (I accept myself as a prophet, I say.  Yes but you go through cycles where you feel like god has left you and being a prophet doesn't help you, says Asia.  We need to look at Ben the Human. Ben the mundane, the flesh, the mortal, she says.  I create things, I say.  OK, good, a good start.  I am an artist and writer. Good good.  I nurse sometimes.  I read a piece that quoted an ex-slave abolitionist, says Asia, who said something along the lines of “when we write we create ourselves.”  He might have been dehumanized in society but with writing he could prove that he was am an.  He could prove that he had a mind, says Asia.  I write myself as a master of the spirits, a shaman and mediator, a prophet and priest, I say.  I am a son of God and a son of Humanity.  I contact the Divine and the Universe in writing. I synthesize and connect all systems of the esoteric and occult.  How about this one, through writing, you create yourself as a prophet so even if the spirit of god leaves, you are still a prophet, says Asia.  Because you wrote it and the writing is still there.  What will I be a prophet of?  Humanity?  The universe?  The prophet for the lost, says Asia.  For those floating in liminal spaces.  Even if the message is “you are not alone”, she says.  I see… Do you believe I am a prophet for the lost?  I do, says Asia.)

As usual, Asia correctly assessed my status and identity as a prophet and writer     God abandoned me: I still prophesy     I prophesy to Ben: to myself secluded in my self secret     I lack self-worth: I do not love myself     Christina and Asia love me and they love me unconditionally     Their love does not translate into love for myself     Instead I return to the cave and rewrite the cave: in its chasm chew I find ben son of man charcoal and bone char / rock waters rejuvenate     Limestone stirs ring water love she lights the lights

I partially watch a video essay called “Harm and Justice” by the YouTube channel The Leftist Cooks, and from what I can interpret, it discusses what it means to recognize when one causes harm, how to change and transform after transgressing, and how to be accountable and provide restitution after harming     I feel aware of my past abuses and harms and I question if I have truly changed or if I practice the same forms of emotional abuse and manipulation     Christina and Asia have forgiven me and accept me as at least partially transformed but I find it difficult to recognize that transformation in myself (Am I alone you think? I say.  Like spiritually alone or something.  Not anymore than anyone else is, says Asia.  So no.  I feel alone a lot and I don’t know what to do.  I’m talking to you and I feel alone and you’re one of my closest friends.  Is it just something I have to work on?  Yeah, says Asia.  That probably also stems from your sense of self-worth.  I used to feel the same way.  Even around others I felt lonely.  Sometimes I felt more lonely around others because the lack of connection was more obvious.  How did you change to not feel that way?  It was slow but I slowly started to love myself.  Any advice on learning to love yourself?  Probably start with addressing some of the thought patterns that cause the self-hatred and counter it and start acting in ways like you love yourself.  Finding the things about yourself that you like or appreciate and above all else, learn to be forgiving for yourself.  Forgiving is very hard for me.  I know, says Asia.)

I go back to the cave and I write     I rewrite cave rewrite     I rewrite my brain a grass rather than a tree (I reimagine the garden of eden with a rhizomic grass of life inseparably intertwined with good and evil)     I return the cave rewritten: in its chasm chisel I kiss ben the human one assembled of horn, antler, charcoal and ochre     Ochre pours blood red limestone / rock waters rejuvenate     Limestone steers ring water horn immersion / ochre ox she lights the lights

I sketch sorcerers or shamans     I sketch hex sorcerer and shaman snow in water happenings     Cave happenings chasm clash heat happen trance performances (Pseudodon shell D-UB1006-fL is a fossil freshwater shell of Pseudodon vondembuschianus trinilensis found at Trini, Java, Indonesia.  The shell has a zigzag engraving supposedly made by Homo erectus, which could be the oldest known anthropogenic engraving in the world) (The engravings probably made on a fresh shell specimen using a shark tooth)

I engrave shell sea swell      I engrave skull shell the swells sweet heats tent of meeting     I engrave shell skull clipper ship ben bodies (When I was a boy, I could hear symphonies in sea shells so why am I so deaf at twenty-two, the sound of the driving snow that drives me home to you)     I immerse the shell into sea snow water horns and limestone rings     I immerse immediate shell machine sea polymeter play prophecy: I prophesy wave ochre and wave limestone the rock waters rejuvenate

I share the shell as a skull and I kiss the skull a drinking cup

Shark shaman and shark sorcerer     Horn shark sorcerer: frilled shark sorcerer

Great white shark sorcerer / dwarf lantership shaman

I share shark as a sand skull and saw skull     I play the shark tooth as a singing saw and the tone warbled shell word and sea word / sea lion woman

Shell sward short sword: shell sward slick sword sackcloth sharks     Shell shark shard shards sword quicker silver     Shell shark sleets quicklime luminescence (luminescent tumescent / solid elements, contained and brewed in water animated by erotic movement, shoot out in the form of flying fish)

Sharks slate shard shells     Sharks slate swell chalkboard black water sandbar     ben bodies sandbar sharks swell shelves     She unlocks sherlock holmes disguised as a street shark searching for magic water and wave sorcerers

I Merge Museum With The Tent Of Meeting

A numbered anarchy:  unnumbered anarchy     Anarchic numerous: no archive but I imitate librarian     Library laughter numerous flat anarchies     Flat anarchic now: my bodies     My bodies a museum show showings (sixteen mystical showings)     Sixteen mystical showings my bodies shine museum mysticism and sideshow supernal shadow: I write the shadow     I write shadow and shade dark desert shimmer and the museum opens up human bodies     Museum opens wound word body: body other and body freak

I study the photographs of Joel-Peter Witkin and some have accused his works of exploitation

I do not want to exploit or reduce but radically open / bodies overlapping bodies     Bodies bodies overlap and I rhizome written and rewritten the dare and risk human bodies     I risk the writing run exploitation and pornography paper airplane human bodies     I continue the risk 

A museum show twists and shouts skeletal bodies     A museum show sums ben bodies / world’s greatest freaks past and present     Present presses my body winepress word process

She stalks flax further sun: my body seats threadsuns     Threadsuns shotgun museum     Threadsuns threshold museum rerun     Threadsuns bombing run anyone     Threadsuns museum threshold son of man thompson machine gun     Son of man thompson machine gun     Son of man thresher shark threshing floor: floor flowers thompson machine gun

Threadsun traces haste my body wholly wasteland     I tap then tape the thread through museum     Threads through trace my body tonic and totentanz: through-composed stations of the cross     Thread trusts through sun sound son of man: man machines tonic and totentanz tortoise horse museum

I machine museum mausoleum music (I plug the tracings back into the map and I connect the roots back into the rhizome)

I machine horse tortoise turtle herds hundreds: hundred suns more museums     I machine the museum sideshow into the monastery sidewinder: word serpent     Word serpent and word salamander     I taste this amphibious threads as moonlight sunlight

Threadsun museum assemblages and sideshow collections compact: cardboard bodies corridor bodies bay chameleons

Threads thrak ten ton hammer     Threads hammer extended anarchic and anarchic extended bodies (I extend my body as sun and son)

Threads explode expanded body repetition and my body repeats thread unthread rhizome     Threads extend my body exploded repetition repetition rhizomes: ben bodies open unordered lines of flight (lined threads unlined threads nonlinear lamina) (map of gestures and movements of the son of man, combine several maps of the same son of man, for different sons of men / children of men excess) (the road to excess leads to the palace of wisdom)

I remix museum musics     I remix museum bodies no showmanship but animal anchors     Anarchic insect anchors; anarchic insect activity

I remix remix repetition: unrhymed rhizomes remix rhythm

Thoughts on Joel-Peter Witkin? I ask Violet.  Never heard of him before! she says.  He’s a photographer.  He has a very distinctive style, I say.  He’s my new favorite photographer, says Violet.  I ask because I’m currently writing some tricky subject matter and I made a connection with him, who's also known for tricky subject matter: mainly photography of those with disabilities, with dwarfism, intersex, and transsexuals, as well as his photography of corpses, I say.  I have a penchant for problematic artists, says Violet.  I want to have a weirdo artist problematically depict my transsexualism through art, she says.  In my own studies I’ve seen how they have the possibility to be a space of autonomy and liberation.  I exploit myself which I think how artists should exploit.  I fetishize and exploit myself as art.  It’s deeply unhealthy, but if someone is getting exploited for art I’d rather it be me, she says.  There’s always an element of exploitation between subject and artist, I say.  I write Christina and Asia with their permission but I’m always using them for my art – but there’s different levels for sure.  If you ever want to exploit me, I’d love that, says Violet.  I was going to ask you if I could use this conversation, I say.  I’m doing the Adaptation thing and recording the struggle of writing.  Yeah, of course! says Violet.  Standing consent always.

I museum my body morphisms maps mutations     My museum body melts into mausoleum mass monsters no machines but machines machines (museum monastery music musics desire-machines desert-machines molecular gastronomy)     Molecular gastronomy god moloch smears my body and I pass through the museum arms archons fires

I write something simultaneous     I write something simultaneous excess     Excesses expose my body threadsuns excesses explode exposed simultaneous / extended and blended     Thread extended and blended / chopped and screwed     Threads chopped and screwed sinew blue hue hand-eye coordination     Hand-eye coordinated skeleton: skeleton frame canvas silver nitrate tar cranium

I merge the museum with the tent of meeting     Tent meeting maps gestures and movements of my bipolar body / ben body adam lines of flight     Lines of flight flesh flesh fires / arms archon fires fires army ants

I superimpose my simultaneous into the strange sketch of my skull

Tent of meeting mouths museum: museum matchsticks     Museum matchsticks scatters my skull as sin     My skull sin sine wave     Mollusk museum human skulls skims medicine waters / medicine sulfur burn sodom and gomorrah     I mouth museum mushroom cities of the plain plane plain plane path (path clockwise then counterclockwise wheel wall)

Ben bodies path pack animal adam: adam alphabet minus animations

Ben bodies play path counterclockwise then path forked clockwise wheel word     Word wheels unwalled walls cauldron woman well witches     Woman well bell witch bitches brew bar hop car witches     Bitch barrierless bitch barrier barrierless bottomless pit)

Maybe museum body     ben body maybe museum multiple entryways lunatic echo bodies     Entryway woman earth swarms sine scourge skull sin erosion

Museum show slides desiring-machines work only when they break down     My body breaks down mouth media and motor music     Bodies break down disease deposits bone disease strands     I break down museum most bodies bricolage     ben bricoleurs motions sun museum: mother bodies bricolage babel my body made psychogeography

Ben bodies blood spurt holy spirit psychogeography / ghost geode sun genuine sun     Genuine sun spills my body khora radio crackles     My body one machine coupled to another anoints mechanical bodies ballpoint blob blood     (ben body one machine coupled to another / one museum coupled to another museum)

Automatic museum bodies bull ball gag gehenna

Antinomian museum bodies trespass pause aporia gethsemane

I read and then reread Paul Celan and like most poetry I read, I do not understand it     Like all poetry I read, I do not understand Paul Celan and I misread his poetry

I read Arnica as Mount Ararat     I misread Arnica as Mount Ararat adornment (I decorate Deleuze’s corpse with nonsense)

I rewrite the Genesis Deluge myth and Arnica / Ararat sprouts tobacco tetragrammaton     I translate the tetragrammaton into sheer unarticulated blocks of sound     I sound Arnica archaic human human machine     Human machines flower atom flow neutrino flux     Flesh flowers machine manic mouths     I prophesy manic mutual symbiosis (in a cleaning symbiosis the clownfish feeds on small invertebrates, that otherwise have potential to harm the sea anemone and the fecal matter from the clownfish provides nutrients to the sea anemone)     I prophesy serpent syzygy, sidewider swarm sideshow serpents and the museum show automobiles mobile form flesh     Ben bodies form flesh fuck flesh fuck with fire (The clownfish is protected by predators by the anemone's stinging cells, to which the clownfish is immune and the clownfish emits a high pitched sound that deters butterfly fish, which would otherwise eat the anemone)

I kiss the sun and her fire fucks my flesh complete coupled conflagration

My femur flowers tetragrammaton graph conflagration / ben bodies flicker on-off transfigurations

My genius loci leavens circum boreal and montane genus / genus gluegun buckyball wolfsbane     ben bodies buckyball crowded carbon and I apply the allotrope as a lotion     I mix wolfsbane and mandrake scream body museum (wolfsbane benjamin   leopard’s bane benjamin   benjamin son of man banishing circle)

Arnica eyebright, slit back to belly other: other to at throat heroic bloodshed hummingbirds     Eyebright scissors ben bodies into impossible islands     ben body imaginary polygons ply amid acrid acid rain axes     Axe rain aphex twin hexes      Eyebright juts ben bodies scale jaw     Scalene triangle: my body islands uncertain engine     ben blast eyebright blight (they use their bodies as bait on the masters of red terror BAT WOMEN OF BUDAPEST) (ben bodies fishing lure binge drinking)

My body one machine coupled to another eats earth machine machine cunt / earth machine mechanical cunt

Ben body one machine ouroboros and ben eats ben asshole and cunt     Ben body then anonymous machines: machines differentiated desert     Desert sabers museum automobile mobile form and I crash bodies aleatoric     Aleatoric algae bodies swim form flesh fuck flesh desert     form flesh   fuck flesh   fuck with fire (I’ll give you my deepest, most intimate secrets… all you have to do is… TAKE MY BODY)     Body takes arcade tokens / aleatoric arcade     Aleatoric arcade projects my body bookcase

I fuck library fire: I fuck labyrinth fire

Aleatoric arcade animate my body machine coupled to machine (my body breaks down as machine and into machine)

Museum not autonomous but coupled flesh language false friends

An Interlude On Creativity Anarchy

What do you feel is the relationship between anarchy and art?  I ask Asia.  I’m trying to figure out if what I do matters in the world, my creativity matters in the world, I say.  Yes, I do think so, says Asia.  I think creative pursuits, creating things, is a part of being human and a way we interact with others and make meaning.  Even things like weaving, basket weaving, pottery, clothes, baking we have turned into creative pursuits but we live in a world where our time is money.  We need money to live.  Our time is regulated and optimized for efficiency.  It’s interesting you wanted to discuss this in order to decide if your creativity matters.  Everyone’s creativity matters.  It’s part of being human.  It's like asking if it’s important to breath, says Asia.  Those are good points, I say, but specifically wanted to start with that so I can talk to you specifically if you feel my writing creates an anarchic transformation.  Does it assist in bringing about the anarchic community even though it’s a creative process and not “revolutionary” activity? I say.  I want to say yes but I am not entirely sure what you mean specifically when you say that, says Asia.

I create desert     I create creative desert: desert creative flat    Desert creative flat slit fuck fire     Desert creative flat circle crown spirals stranded starfish     I create desert create slate slow sound sow flat     Create flat chronos snow sound slow woman

I create dam desert flat blood circles / eye sliced cloud moon now noun flat     Dam desert flat bush blood (weird atomic beasts who live on human blood!  THE HORROR OF PARTY BEACH the first horror monster musical)     Monstrous music slow sound sonic boom ben adam

I create most matter and water     Mad water slow zoom zebra most water     Human matter human desert: desert matter mad waters waters fire waterful woman     Process matter photographic fluids / human fluid lighter fluid fires

I was telling Ann Marie about this, I say.  I am not a political expert of anarchy.  When I say anarchy in my writing, I am imagining a type of creative activity that is completely flat: no hierarchies, all pure relationships with all things – earth, animal, people – in community.  My writing models itself after John Cage and Merce Cunningham – people doing their own thing together – and my techniques in writing are for the purpose of creating a non-hierarchical mind, a creative flat-relations mind, a type of writing that transforms the interior so one can do exterior revolutionary activity.  So the multiplicity of my writing, the rhizomic nature of my writing, the surreal juxtapositions of my writing: they are anarchic techniques (partly) in order to bring about the Kingdom of Heaven on Earth in a non-hierarchical anarchic communion community way.  Its purpose is partly to transform our minds so our hands can do outside work, I say.  Then yeah, I would say so, says Asia.

Slower anarchy: slower desert     Slower harmonic rhythm where the challenge becomes how melodically inventive one can improvise     I improvise slower: slower salts slower flats alluvial flood plains     Slower anarchy museum show: freak space fire liminal flesh     Flat no floor fluorescent arborescences     Living room music monopole rhizomes     I begin melody end anarchic: anarchic any household objects or architectural elements used as instruments     Flesh flat a table a window frame

I sling slow slower desert rhythm

I sling museum show slower smoke / once upon a time the world was round and you could go on it around and around

Museum show mushroom clouds crows / less like music than music’s ghost     Museum show slower saw sound: sound spaces between sun     Museum show slap sound sine (let’s go out of here before it starts to develop, Debussy once said to a friend following the exposition to an opening of a Beethoven Symphony) (The Book either draws only-and-completely development or it deserts flat monothematic monochromatic / Book the most beautiful and bountiful black)

A unique work that maintains the rhythms of Satie but presents a totally different texture and melodic contour

I write rhizome subterranean stem     I write rhizome animal pack forms I rat rhizomes book burrows     Book burrows she her supply movement evasion break out

Museum show rhizome / texts selected from current newspapers and mushroom bodies     An anarchic song book / solo for voice     Original four-part writing turned into a series of long overlapping tones and empty spaces

Do you feel my writing accomplished those things at all?  Do you feel your mind changed by the writing?  Yes, I do, says Asia.  The reason I say so is you subvert and challenge hierarchical ideas (like religion) in your writing… It does challenge how I think because of the untraditional writing style.  I also want to reiterate that whether or not it transforms every thing it touches isn’t what gives it worth.  And you shouldn’t get too focused on how people react – you can lose the mark.  Focus on dismantling the hierarchies inside yourself and your writing will follow.  Anarchy is dandelions growing in the cracks of concrete.  It grows and develops in other frameworks, defying them.  People think that it’s always directly opposed to those systems, but that’s not always what I’ve seen to be true.  It has to grow in the cracks and then grow horizontally until it’s strong enough, says Asia.

Slower horizontal     Slower horizontal: slow horizontal melody     A slow melodic mathematics / modal sludge harmonies     Hazy horizontal harmony (sounds together     melody one sound after another     harmony sound coming together at the same time)     Sounds together horizontal harmony

Horizontal change: nonlinear horizontal then nonlinear horizontal Book of Changes     Book of Changes horizontal water channel     Channel bracket horizontal son of man     Horizontal ben adam ben hinnom (53 flexible time brackets with single sound produced on 1, 2, 3, or 4 strings.  Durations, dynamics, and bow positions are free)

Museum Erotic Rhythm

I need the resistance of a hard surface and I write the surface as a spreading and permeating rhythm     Roy Haynes pop snack accented surface rhythm     A resistance ruins surface / Link Wray’s Rumble     Rumble in the jungle royal rumble rhizome resistance     Rhizome heterogeneous homosexuals body surface rhythms     Drum body body rhythm     Body body draws rhythm bastard rhythm (Dusk To Dawn S features “Saturn’s Mistress” “Grave Desert” “Vampire girls”  “Satan’s Play Things” “Graveyard Tramps”)     Dusk to Dawn S features fall sprawl species counterpoint cantata     Cantata sonata canaanite heterogeneous homosexuals 

Dusk to Dawn dinosaur desert / grave desires desert sheol

Dusk to Dawn Christina damsel-in-distress devours as a daemon / daemon divergence     Daemon divergence no use going this direction / dangerous neighborhood

I need the resistance of a hard surface / new art needs new techniques

I need the resistance of a hard surface there’s a riot going on

There’s a riot going on onto and into every couple of machines     There’s a riot going on unbearable to the body without organs     There’s a riot going on a God at work strangling my rioting organs by organizing it

My body riots rhizome less rigorous / self-reflexive riverbank     Rearranged riots rearranged rhizomes     Rainwater rhizomes rainwater woman riots

Desert bodies riot radio telephone reconnaissance / riot renaissance

Riot grenade fragments desert wounded bodies multiply word / my bodies riot alchemy or arson insect spaces     Sideshow insect space     Sideshow Yahweh of Hosts insect space     Insect anarchic space puzzle sprawl or extension     Extension active nothing but insect bodies

I resist writing manifestos but let the word as activated charcoal absorb then rap rupture stone rhizomes (a map has multiple entryways   a word has multiple entryways)     Word enter exit stabs habitats / haunted public housing     Haunted open assemblage assembly line nonlinear

I resist writing the resistance of a hard surface / rhizome tome techniques rhizome twelve tone technique hauntology

I write rhizome and I work rhizome

Rhizome unframed physics / Frozen alive for 20 years!  Now they return from their icy graves to seek vengeance!  THE FROZEN DEAD

Frozen rhizome unfrozen rhizome multiple entryways / words enter exit     Words enter exit / does not exist take an exit

My body insect sideshow splice space similar space / cross congruent cross     Cross congruent cross corrugated cardboard     Insects space insects sideshow and space ten-in-one overlaps single-o

A Museum Show, which might be deceptively billed as “World’s Greatest Freaks Past and Present” is a sideshow in which the exhibits are not usually alive.  It might include tanks of piranhas or cages with unusual animals, stuffed freak animals, or other exotic items like the weapons or cars allegedly used by famous murderers.  Some of the exhibits might even be dummies or photographs of billed attractions.  It could still be truthfully billed with the claim “$1,000 reward if not absolutely real – please do not touch or feed the animals in the exhibit”

To freak language / to destroy hostile architecture

Freak, noun, 1560s, suddenly and apparently causeless turn of mind, of unknown origin     Perhaps from a dialectical survival of a word related to the Middle English friken, to move nimbly or briskly, from Old English frician, to dance

To freak language / to insect inset dialect dialectics

Book sows museum shows single-o dance bodies     My obese dance body overlaps other bodies cryonic cryptids

Book seed museum seed mustard sideshow     Sideshow sweeps insects my body swarms frician fuck san francisco fabulation

I bend my body binge drinking and binge eating, and my body bloats black boats boats abyss     My body bellows bail abyss     Abyss sprawl brawls ben begs bodies

ben body museum and archive     Archive fever flesh museum maximum machine     Machine mendicant impact museums / merely so many nails piercing the flesh so many forms of torture

Frequent museum flows body spiders spike archive     Spike archive spice archival cleaver museums     I show museum as machine machines grotesque body videodrome     I displace tracings onto the maps of bodies     Bodies museum shows side shows shit show     Shit show snow slack slime

Museum pornographic bodies machine miscellaneous (You’ll see what goes in... and what comes off... inside the pages of one of ‘those’ magazines!  LIVING VENUS the unconcealed unvarnished story of the men who manufacture temptation… and sometimes buy it!  Plus a parade of pulchritudinous pets who peer passionately from the lovers and centerfolds of the slick red-hot magazines)

What are your thoughts on pornography and the erotic? I ask Christina.  It’s part of humanity, says C.  We like to see things.  Sexy things.  Why not provide and / or profit off it? she says.  I need to write more porno and pulp and exploitation and erotic, so I’m just trying to see about how to do it again, or differently, I say.  Just like in all areas, says C., there is exploitation and unfairness.  But the problem isn’t the porn, she says.

Threadsuns postmodern porno promo

Threadsuns arrows porno body pomegranate slopes / room all-particles

Threadsuns sister sistral Taryn teep tea lock spirals     Spiral spinning wheel ferments grape flesh ghost wheel / wheel walk whip sun Taryn threads tabernacle

I see sun museum show ghost shutters shudders     See sun seesaw museum / museum archives my mirror body mirrored freak obscene     Freak obscene freak out bodies through a mirror dimly     I see sun dim desert / sunthread museums     Sunthread museums tent of meetings

I see sun museum show snow threads twirl Taryn teacups swirls     Teacup swirl teacup circles / I see sun rotations and translations     Sun rotates rhizome orbits / the polymorphic and organic coitus of the earth with the sun

Sun see sea thread surfs turn Taryn     Sun dissolves slow my body without organs liquefies under the excitation of Christina’s cunt     Sun sees sea continuously jerk off see swims son of man semen sun sea (They were sin-seekers looking for LUST KICKS)     I sin sea sun son of man and man sees sea descended body salt lakes

I lust she lights the lights

I see sun salt museum subtle alchemy     Sun inseminates incarnation / Son of Man urgent earth ejaculation

Desert Threadsun Chaos

I dream the repetition of the desert dream     In the dream desert, desert drones repetition / repulsion rattle snake dun repetition and dune rhizome

I dream repetition the repetitive slasher dream and I slash desert sweep or sleet     I dream draw desert repetition and in dreams undressed set stick figure stab wounds

I dream diabolical desert: desert diabolos matter bay buoyant body liquefied bolus     Liquefied body water you think about     When water you think about where water     Where water you think about desert: desert dream     Desert dream: desert dirigible chaos witch     Chaos witch chasm bitches brew (ben adam bit hes brew stirs my bodies bone broth     She stirs my body black paintings)

Dream desert dirigible chaos witch: witch waters wave witch     I dream her witch awake wheel chaos     Awake wheel I sense beneath my organs larvae and loathsome worms     Awake where my body exterior to interior larvae lava and larvae she lights the lights, Christina cobwebs     Christian cobwebs water curves     Curve word swerves sewer saw skewered eyesight

I dream desert worms     I dream desert mongolian death worm (God messes up my organs maggot mallets / grasshopper hammers) (God strangles my organs string intestine languages   clandestine intestines   clade cross cloth naked)

Do you think my writing is getting better? I ask Christina.  I do, she says.  What ways is it getting better, you think?  No abandoned parentheses.  That's it?  If that’s the case, I’m going back to the abandoning them.  No!  Poor little things!  I think you’re finding more palatable metaphors.  Christina’s cunt as witch’s coven?  Palatable as accessible?  Not as many cocks?  I don’t need writing to be palatable, says C.  I think that can be a part of the fun, but I think you're evolved into more accessible things to talk about… Clocks are accessible.  I mean, clocks are too, but I meant cocks!  Cocks and cunnies are totally accessible!  It’s more about the difficulty of putting the phrases together to make sense of it, she says.  I never thought my metaphors were previously unpalatable, I say.  Could you tell me how? I would guess my work has become less accessible as it goes on so it’s interesting you see it differently, I say.  I understand Christina’s cunt as a witch’s coven, says C.  I can picture it.  I understand how all those items work together to make a metaphor.  Using phrases that make sense in a common way.  Sticking to the same topic for a little longer too.  Even if it’s just to the end of the phrase, says C.  Interesting, I say.  I feel I need more repetition now to fully explore something.  I feel I need to explore a word from all perspectives and permutations.  John Coltrane said he started at a point and explored all possibilities from that point.  I feel I’m doing that, I say.  Yes, says C.  Although I did like getting to explore things on my own with your earlier writing (we’re talking years ago because I’m a terrible friend!) but now you do the work.  It’s like an immediate check to see if we thought the same thing, says Christina.

Dedekind cut desert dirigible chaos witch     Chaos witch chasm bitches brew     Bitches brew crash cut ben chasm schism hazard     My body chasm cuts chemistries: my bodies chasm alchemy cut alchemy     I drip my body into baths of chemical solutions slash desert     Chemical solution stations of the cross cup body baptisms

My body chasms scissors     My body chasms scissors cylinders / cylinder slash scaffolding     Human skin scaffolding / skin scissors skin chasm simulation

My body chasm circuits circus finnegans wake no wait but waters     Wake no wait but warp black hole wolf tones     Wolves tone there’s a riot going on     Wolves tunnel under over under there’s a riot going on     There’s a riot going on asphalt secret agent     My bodies accelerate alchemical side show     My body bores acceleration trickle-down economics / trickster echolocation     Trickster tickles there’s a riot going on

My body splits alchemical sideshow and sideshow slinks insect swims…

I need the resistance of a hard surface     Surface threadsuns shotgun     Surface threadsun handgun rerun

Hard surface texts tin pan alley allophone flesh allotrope topos     Topos Taryn Texts / hard disintegration languages     Disintegration hard determinism language dusts     Dust hard surface resistances (my writing disappears writing     I write hard determinist disappointment / desert partial objects) (Writing fuck happens this now: now hour name name noumena / no bus stop no train station)

Threadsun tannin Taryn: Taryn tenor tension wire towers     Wire towers wire columns tomahawk

Threadsun spinning wheel wake Taryn     Spinning wheel wake me up before you gogo Taryn gargoyle threadsun sun gallons

Thread sun threshold Taryn torturous serpent / wheel serpentine     Wheel wakes serpentine my skin ice rink sludge slackcloth     Sackcloth unreads unwoven tabernacle curtains

Thread thrasher thresher torque triple duo     Duo desert duet desert: I need the resistance of a hard surface (merely so many nails piercing the flesh, so many forms of torture)

Threadsuns shotgun     Threadsuns handgun rerun red mercury     Mercury desiring-machine mercury

Iris Shims Holy Spirit Risk

I write nothing     I write nothing continued continued fractions / fraction sentence fragments     Writing acts nothing and the non now death but write (We might as well be dead.  Do you think death could possibly be a boat?  No, no, no… Death is.. not.  Death isn’t.  You take my meaning.  Death is the ultimate negative.  Not-being.  You can’t not-be on a boat.  I’ve frequently not been on boats.  No, no, no what you’ve been is not on boats)

I write not-boats not-writing but the Book written     I not-write but you are the one who writes and the one who is written

Without me, the writing writes     The writing writes ex nihlo and the nothing does not god but scribes     Writing animates writing and writing gruppens glossolalia holy spirits fires fire pentecostal purgatory     Purgatory aporia punches passions: this is impossible / a plea for/to the experience of the impossible     Writing fires writing in the penal colony purgatory / palm tree garden fire     Palm tree garden fire / black iron prison fire     Rhizome aether multiple entryways: passions and performances     I perform the passion

Iris slow virus eigenvectors     Iris slow virus motivic repetition

I repeated iris isolated from eye and eye injects my imbecile body intern acid jazz insects     I repeat but I do not repeat iris an isolated eye     An isolated eye slow virus or passenger virus pigeon vision     Slow vision his eye is on the sparrow and I know he watches me

If I didn’t write about you, would you still like my writing? I ask Christina.  I would, she says.  What do you like about it?  I don’t want to sound contrary to Asia, but I DO like the TS Eliot-ness of it.  I like parsing it.  It’s a summit and I enjoy climbing it.  There’s value to appealing to lateral thinking, but I like some depth too.  And I also like that sometimes when I inquire, I’m wrong about how I read something.  Or especially when you’re like “That was just nonsense” when I found deep meaning in something, says C.  I do write nonsense, I say.  And I fall for it! says Christina.  I need to be reminded I’m a rube.  Nonsense is part of the human experience too though, I say.  Yeah, I agree, says Christina.

This is nonsense

Is farting funny.  Is farming funny.  Is flirting funny.  Is nuclear fission funny.  I think farts can be funny.  I think darts can be funny.  I think dads can be funny.  I think grocery bags can be funny.  Christina’s cunt cackles like a coven of witches.  

This is nonsense

This is not sense but nothing     Nothing not nonsense but death: this death but writing animates seven sermons to the dead

Write CHAOS   ALTERNATION   POWER OPERATION   GENERATION    DIGESTION

Here’s a technique I once tried and didn’t really develop, I say to Asia.  The use of alternating all caps and developing of words between the all caps.  I might try to revisit this:

CHANGE AND TRANSFORMATION

Chord color CHANGE tenor saxophone TRANSFORMATION     Chord bryce canyon crayola CHANGE tenor saxophone TRANSFORMATION tetragrammaton

I like the alternating all caps, says Asia.  I’m not sure I would use it throughout a whole piece but it’s a neat way of differentiating, she says.

Write CHAOS     Christina clads clusters crinkle cut french fries (LSD + Witchcraft the 8mm psychedelic short ‘Acid Skull’)     Christina CHAOS field canvas stations of the cross     CHAOS ALTERNATION avalanche altered chords     Chords extend CHAOS nonfunctional harmony transmission hum TRANSFORMATION ALTERNATION     Altered beast POWER OPERATION     OPERATION order of operations ouroboros (The most terrifying nightmare of childhood is about to return!  THE BOOGEYMAN)

An insidious eye imps iris Charles Ives String Quartet No. 2 and Symphony No. 4 / the disjunctive metrical and temporal complexity of this movement requires at least one additional conductor

I listen to Charles Ives Symphony No. 4 and my eye ebbs egg     My eye ebbs cosmic egg entropic tin time / Christina CHAOS chrono trigger

I simulate symphonies vast  artificial intelligence / VALIS in the sheer by and by we shall meet on that beautiful shore

An insidious eye imps iris Charles Ives String Quartet No. 2 and Symphony No. 4 / eyes stream firework steam fire stabbings     Fire steers idle iris international research in infection control     Fire stuns idle flush flows iris ionizing radiation incident database     Fire stings obsidian iris injection related injury and disease

Write iris CHAOS an alchemical eye     Iris alternates eye to eye ALTERNATION skull alternator     Saturated skull oranges POWER OPERATIONS     I dream garden stage serpent sound / Prince and the New Power Generation     Same dreams digest desert desert DIGESTION (Desert digests without decay     Desert digests body prima materia mummification) (desperate desert digestion     distilled desert digestion)

DIGESTION desert desert digests without decay     I often drive alone in desert and I digest desert fifties diner     I dream desert digestion alone alien radio antennae (… Your nightmares are about to come true!  DRIVE-IN THEATER warning!!! DRIVE-IN THEATER MASSACRE has dreamed by an independent film board to be too terrifying for the average theater patron.  For this reason, it is suggested that those of you with severe emotional disorders or chronic coronary dysfunction NOT to see this film.  The risk is entirely yours.  Filmed entirely in blood-curdling GORE-COLOR)

I risk desert     I risk desert rive and I risk desert theater     Theater speaks light leaks tetragrammaton

I risk desert GENERATION tent of meeting / I meet exodus and exile     I meet a more desperate desert and a more dire wolf desert     Diabolical desert water bolus nerve names khora

My iris shims holy spirit risk     I risk iris rises let us go to the field and cain rose up     Iris risk sunrise mystical rose assembly of israel

Prophesying A Language That Interrogates Language

Iris, shimmer, dreamless or dreary

I ram iris     I ram iris insects almost-sacrificed isaac     Binding of Isaac imitates horned lizards and horned insects (Moses did not know his face horned because he had been talking to God)

Iris horns irradiated hell / marriage of heaven and hell     Iris horns impossible helmet transformations     My uneven eye irritates impossible transformation / several adamic languages     Adamic augmented interval languages     

Iris implicit engine     Iris implicit differentiation

I visit sideshow independent iris and my iris isolates several shades / a shard shank slots my cerebellum

Cerebellum evangelion     Evangeline vision volver veronica cerebellum ball boll weevil word / my beetle body     My beetle body beats moptop tow terror tlon     Tlon traces eye teeth and map fanged flesh / flesh horns hangings and hang on a tree

My tectonic teeth tlons monsters     Tlon turtle monsters meat cult macrocosm chasm microcosm     I worship monster woman / monsters decentered cerebellum     Monsters decenter cerebellum / my head bells caves     I worship monster woman and woman among monster window mass word wheel

I worship iris implicit engine     I worship iris implicit differentiation     Iris ejects church ikon and iron ingot     Iris meteoric iron orion ouroboros avalon     Iron maiden isle of avalon     Iris car engine car crash (rifles, shotguns, pistols)     Iris radioactive ionization disintegration of languages

I have a question for you, I say.  It’s concerning prophecy.  Reading an old conversation.  A person suggested I should get therapy and implied my prophethood was mental illness.  I asked your advice.  You said you thought that person was an asshole and you thought my prophecy was a form of art.  What do you think now?  I know you have said more recently about the book prophesying to those at the margins, but I’m curious about this idea of prophetic art, I say.  I don’t think prophecy is a mental illness, says Asia.  I do think religion can combine with mental illness in bad ways, but instead of asking yourself “Is this hurting others?”, ask “does this stem from any pre-existing negative thought patterns?” and parse it out from there.  I don’t think that’s true for you, really: you do some beautiful things with your writing, says Asia.  Do you still view my form of prophecy as a form of art?  Yes, says Asia.  

I prophesy the resistance of a hard surface     I prophesy new arts and new techniques     I prophesy paintings that do not have a center but depend on the same amount of interest throughout

Prophet space approximate aporia     Prophetic space chasm khora: cave mouth noun disintegration     All particles in the pile soon reach a nounal state     Names the colored barrels we trip inside / a name colored barrels we trip inside / a name comes and immediately says more than the name     Prophet speak space: space speech sprawl language mesh     marsh marsh language bayou / banquet bay of blood     Language mesh cartoon lagoon / they run on blood THE CARS THAT EAT PEOPLE

I read the following from LANGUAGE magazine, February 1978.  “Larry Eigner Notes” by Clark Coolidge:

Each line a new mind (focus) rather than division determined by breaks of sound, syntax, etc.

I prophesy a paradoxical nonlinear line: line carves cut inside and out projected octagonal     Line curves Philip K. Dick nonlinear and Dick envisions the light orthogonal from three-dimensional space (not a dimension of spacetime but an imaginary transcendental dimension / a gold and red golden ratio doorway)

Prophecy ruptures iris language language eye incisor     Prophecy bites eye smashed languages…

(Languages seize me and my hands trouble me     I try to find other cuts cane cross cruciform languages or languages across the cross)

Iris eavesdrops bebop languages     Iris improvises bebop maps and fragments (a torn map   a reversed map   Robert Rauschenberg combine maps)

Maps wordsmith languages (each line a new mind) (Each line a new machine / miscellaneous horns of Moses)

Iris improvises bebop maps and fragments: map icons map fragments flight iris iridium     Iridium rabbit desert blue dye maps (I’m feeling down and would like some cheering up if you’re able, I say.  Why couldn’t the rabbit cross the road? says C.  Why not?  This is from Miles who said he wanted to cheer you up:  She had a HARE in her eye!  That's pretty good – thank you Miles.  He says you’re welcome: I’m leaving to my room, says Christina)

Sentence fragment sentence fragment     Sentence fragment map open open connect dimensional desert

I sneak with sentence suspicion     Surplus sentence slender disintegrations     My languages disintegrate mutated maps     I map hammer flat serpent slate     I strip the slate bashed flat


Written in response to a request for a manifesto of music, 1952

INSTANTANEOUS AND UNPREDICTABLE
Nothing is accomplished by writing a piece of music
Nothing is accomplished by hearing a piece of music
Nothing is accomplished by playing a piece of music
(Our ears are now in excellent condition)


I had this revelation just now in fact, about the writing and blog posts, I say.  What was the revelation? says Asia.  Lately I have been influenced by the music of Elliott Carter, Anthony Braxton, and John Cage.  I told you about how Elliott Carter in his String Quartet No. 2 treated each of the 4 instruments separately (with 4 different characters interacting and clashing…)

Anthony Braxton is most famous for his quartet from the late 1980s to the early 1990s.  He wrote his pieces in such a way that they were radically modular: any melody line for example from another composition he wrote could be prepared and included by any instrument in his quartet.  Often, one member would be improvising, two would be playing the composition, and a fourth would be playing a line from a secondary composition.  There's a simultaneousness going on.

John Cage in the early 1950s had this idea called The Ten Thousand Things.  He thought of his work as always in progress, and any piece could be played with any other piece he wrote.  The way he did this is he structured all the music he wrote during this time on an open rhythmic structure: every piece had the same open rhythmic structure and they could be combined in any combination in this manner…

I realized you wanting the blog posts to be more independent and self-contained is not a bad thing.  If they are independent and self-contained, they can be combined with any other blog post, and read in any order.  They can be truly anarchic and open, I say.  Yeah that makes sense, and that’s what I’ve been thinking, says Asia.  Making each post on its own strong by itself makes the whole stronger, she says.


INSTANTANEOUS AND UNPREDICTABLE     Nothing is accomplished…   Our ears are now in excellent condition

Do we have anything in music that really wipes everything out? says Morton Feldman.  That just cleans everything away?

An nonidiomatic improvisation: play without memory     Write without memory (not an automatic writing but a prepared piano writing or Anthony Braxton co-ordinate logics) (Writing aporia punctures impossible languages but languages pray passions and passions)



Write Wild And Weird

content warning: some violent imagery



(Each of us six officers had a shotgun and an automatic rifle and pistols.  We opened fire with automatic rifles.  They were even empty before the car got even with us.  Then we used the shotguns.  There was smoke coming from the car, and it looked like it was on fire.  After shooting the shotguns, we emptied the pistols at the car, which had passed us and ran into a ditch about 50 years on down the road.  It almost turned over.  We kept shooting at the car even after it stopped.  We weren’t taking any chances)

Shotgun gas tank     Shotgun stop shop woodshed / I woodshed languages bodies ballistics     Bodies punched to through thinner thresholds / my bodies bullet tissues     Shotgun subsidiary bodies     Shotgun woodshed tissue granulosum     I burn butter bodies bone shotgun     Bone shotgun bonfire / bonfires ben adam

Shotgun shellac attacks hacksaw human decapitations     Decapitated dark desert beheads stations of the cross     Cross axehead chops shotgun gastric ulcer static     Shotgun static shotgun static

Bullet ballet     Bullet ballet or tokyo fist     Bullet bastard / bullet yellow bastard     Bullet boxing     Bullet sideshow bob     I bob up and down in shotgun waters and I murder Yahweh like Saint of Killers

In dreams I walk with you     In dreams I talk to you     In dreams you’re mine all the time     Forever in dreams

I dream the longest dream where dreaming demands other dreaming     I dream the increased duration of dreams and dreaming dines desert interrupted by desert     Desert expands dream desert the very dreaming     I dream imaginary width and imaginary height woman     I dream not long distance desert but long distance bodies, a human Shiur Qomah     Asia Rhizome, her god body shotguns greater desert, the details of this dream writing

My thing about the music comment is that I kind of agree but at the same time you aren’t making music, says Asia.  You are writing words and words have meaning that can be lost or obscured when they are jumbled together.  I don’t think you want your writing to be just noise or I wouldn’t say anything, she says.  Have you read the poetry of Hugo Ball? I say.  No, I don’t think so.  Here is a poem from him he wrote in 1916, called Karawane.  That is alphabet soup put in a word process, she says.  Sometimes I feel you have a really narrow definition of what poetry is and it really frustrates me.  Well just like you said, Mary Oliver doesn’t appeal to you, garbled sound doesn't appeal to me. … I think you do a pretty good job with sound and rhythm in your work.  I was just under the impression that you wanted to keep that element and make it more cohesive.  I never said anything about changing that element in your work, says Asia.  Alright, I say.  I’m just really frustrated.  I attempted to share with you – from almost 100 years ago!  An example contrary to your idea poetry and music have an impossible intersection.  I feel it’s as frustrating as saying cubism or fauvism is also just garbled up pigments with no aesthetic value – also art movements from 100 years ago, I say.  If I was hearing it I might feel differently but reading feels like my brain is short circuiting, says Asia.  I never said there wasn’t an intersection.  I think sound and rhythm play a very important role in poetry, making the words come alive, she says.  My work is not weird at all, I say.  People were writing more out there stuff 100 years ago.  I never called your work weird, says Asia.  Where is this coming from?  I haven’t said anything about work.  I have in fact said plenty of positive things about it.  Your work is interesting and that’s why I like to read it.  But it isn’t easy to read which is why I like to be in the right headspace when I read it so that I can try to give it the attention it needs, says Asia.  I was interpreting your push for accessibility as a push towards the norm, I say.  No, why would I do that? Says Asia.  I would never want to change what makes your writing your own, what makes it unique.  I just also think you have important things to say, things that could change lives the way Wild Geese changed mine and want those people to be able to find it.  Your poetry should stay wild and weird, says Asia.

I wrestle with accessibility: not because I don’t want the Book to be understood but because I find great difficulty translating the ineffable dream and apophatic vision into written language, and I discover new dream and new vision requires new poetic techniques and new languages   weird and wild languages

In dreams I walk with you     In dreams I talk to you     In dreams you’re mien all the time     Forever in dreams / Fire walk with me and I walk the fire she lights the lights     Fire walk with me and I walk Woman Yahweh     I walk woman seventy-permutations of the name     I dream drift seventy-two permutations of the Name Horror and seventy-two permutations of the Name Terror and seventy-two permutations of the Name Disgust     The god bodies blast breadth desert disgust and the Ibba Rabba beard drips disgust and guts gods cannibals

See the actual car in which the real Bonnie and Clyde were AMBUSHED and KILLED!  Plus actual film of ambush 160 bullet holes in this car shot by police ambush

I rifle rhizome wild violence     I rhizome rifle raffle ticket tetragrammaton / permutations of the name gnarl nail biter violence bitter wormwood     I rifle bullet car cartography / my map graphomania     I reproduce the pistol tracing: trace Taryn trace Tetragrammaton     I birth Book other virulent maps and tracings Taryn body contours     Concentric contours infinitely divisible / divisible body desert     Divisible body desert dirigible ghost garden (I’d like to play something – like the beginning of Ghosts – that people can hum… folk melodies that all the people will understand)

I prophesy something human     I prophesy human antinomian (She was hot… too hot for any one man A TASTE FOR SIN)

I do not prophesy a god language but a human language: human language animal language earth language     Language mesh material

Language mesh mass material     Language mesh roman catholic mass missile     Laughing mile meshed shark miles     Main language mesh eyes rounddance between the bars     Roundness red bars darkling beetles     Eye beetle bog bodies     Eye beetle round trumpet sound     Eye beetle eye other trombone round tone tinkers tons      Ton tone eye over eye enmeshed threshing floor language     Language mesh mathematics

See the actual car in which the real Bonnie and Clyde were AMBUSHED and KILLED!    Kiss or kill kensington gore     Kiss or kill kudzu automobiles / kneaded bullet holes     160 bullet holes in this car shot by police ambush

(I didn’t perceive 160 bullet holes     I perceived a few dozen bullet holes     Where did all the bullet holes go     The bullet black hole Christina’s cunt)

I write Fiji mermaid     I write Yahweh of Hosts     I write goon gasoline gospels

Language mesh melody     Language music mesh long melody machines mechanical eyes     My eye inserts language a knife into iris     I wake mesh a map and not a tracking     I transform the tracing Taryn tank tracings Tetragrammaton     I make a map and not tracings and Book meshes languages an orchid mapped wasp woman wasp word

Language mesh moto perpetuo language mesh rhythmic acceleration

Language mesh accelerated ghost trace: ghost trace Taryn   Taryn trance Tetragrammaton     Taryn an extremely long sequence of non-vertical sound events     Event ensemble babel language mesh     I enrich rhythms rhizome languages: a map entirely oriented toward an experimentation in contact with the real     Contact real contact rhizome sound somme rhizome)     The languages construct the unconscious concave or conclave rhythms     Language mesh recitative: tremolo, bolero, irregular pulse

The Single-O     Single Attraction     The Single-O Attractor     The Single-O Holy Spirit     Single-O Sine Wave Oscillator word waves woman


Conversations With Asia 06/25/2020 5:47 AM

I have also wanted to write my own version of Pebble In The Sky by Isaac Asimov, says Asia.  I might be able to smush the two together: a civilization of people living on a rejected radioactive earth, using technology to creative an egalitarian society.  Have you read it? she says.  I haven't, I say.  So Asimov is an old scifi writer.  He inspired many scifi writers after him for one main reason: he had really cool concepts and world building.  Everything else in his stories are shit, but he has really cool ideas.  Pebble in the Sky is about a dude who is sent thousand of years into the future to find that the earth is a radioactive wasteland that everyone scorns and mocks, humans have colonized other planets, and everyone has forgotten where humans originally came from, says Asia.  Hahaha I like how you describe how everything besides his concepts and world building is shit, I say.  That’s what inspired me to write a story inspired by it, says Asia.  It was a cool concept but the characters me made so mad.  There was this one character named Pola; she was the professor’s daughter.  They presented her as smart and headstrong.  Then this dumb himbo archaeologist character comes around and she is instantly converted to drooling arm candy, constantly fawning over him.  And he was so rude to her too.  Pola deserves justice, says Asia.


I constantly squeeze up against my limitations as a writer: my ability construct sound and rhythm dampened by my ability to write any sort of cohesive plot or even cohesive theme     I write purely on whatever text or idea interests me at a given moment and this continuously changes     Nevertheless, I must follow these flashing transformations and attempt to make a cohesive prophecy and Book from them

I feel inspired by the simultaneity and eventfullness of the music of Elliott Carter and Anthony Braxton – the challenges becomes to translate and transform the multiplicity of musical languages into the multiplicity of written languages

Four different strands of musical material of contrasting character developed simultaneously throughout the work

Language mesh mishmash     Language mesh do the mashed potato     Mesh mothra moonlight low lantern buzz     My brain buzzes eye roundness, a sort of gnarled branch gnashing teeth gnosis     Gnarled rhizome naked beast body     Gnarled body knotted now the maximum openings of bodies without organs onto a plane of consistency     My body opens knots nested networks seventy-two permutations of the name languages     Gnarled rhizome naked beast body my body unbordered door     door undressed desert diastole languages / long melody modal models     Long language lydian lin mixolydian she lights the lights     She lights the lights play it loud / play fill it wound sound

Door hinge patterns     The Single-O archaic humans     The Single-O Ancient of Ancients     The Single-O american airlines great ape absurdities

With or without circus insect invasions I continue to prophesy     I play paranoid to prophecy with or without impossible insects

I steal imaginary song lyrics     I steal imaginary lyrical permutations from or onto Taylor Swift (oubliette juliette) (magnetic cassette juliette) (Reel to reel something like cassette check yes juliet)

Write wild and weird word (The motor gang thought it was tough… until it found a type of hell… the bride of satan!  WEREWOLVES ON WHEELS)

Write wild and weird word (Take yourself out to the graveyard… for a hilarious romp with the prettiest, shapeliest ghouls that ever traded in their bed sheets for bikinis!  GHOST IN THE INVISIBLE BIKINI)

I’d like to play something – like the beginning of Ghosts – that people can hum

I hum body horror ghosts     I hum bodied horror her ghosts     Her ghosts grasps ghosts tao hum and Taryn hum

I don’t know where I am except ghosts     I ghost knows where ghosts     I ghost where I am where book bikini / bikini khora ben adam     Where I am when ghosts generous beach: book beach bikini atom bomb trinity     The when ghost west / the black wind blows     I visit sideshow ghosts and I see several shades bare shoulder insects

(One occasionally has the sensation of all variations played at once)

I need the resistance of a hard surface     New art needs new techniques     My paintings do not have a center but depend on the same interest throughout

Surface ghosts     Ghost technique unique new york     Ghost no center everywhere (The Book with center everywhere and circumference nowhere)

Surface surface ghosts / surface-to-air munitions     Surface fat ghosts surface trick ghosts     I paint ghost ghosts new techniques / Ornette Coleman invention     Ornette Coleman interventions / I nurse impossible improvisation

I write Book as an action painting or an all-over painting     I write all over no center but center everywhere her ghosts     Surfaces super ghouls n’ ghosts     I write Book ghost mess, sticks, trowels, knives and dripping fluid paint or a heavy impasto with sand, broken glass, or foreign matter added     I let the Book collect foreign household gods or pulp bodies and pornographic bodies, my breasts bright in bikinis   ghost beach ghost length