Yahweh leaves caves clay Adam Kadmon Kadmon Krystal crayon canticles Yahweh leaves nonlinear jazz loft low limbic and David Bowie’s Low Berlin Trilogy Benjamin triolet trilogies Berlin trilogy traditional delta blues bartender bison and you can run, you can run, tell my friend Willie Brown, that I got the crossroad blues this morning, Lord Babe, I am sinking down Yahweh leaves off dreaming me and I too dream dream diamond dust dust doorway diamond desert Delta blues baseball diamond and Yahweh hits and Yahweh pitches (Georges Bataille writes a dream: my father slaps me and I see the sun Yahweh slaps me I see the sun Son of Man molecular gastronomy) I dream a massive drum – perhaps a brake drum or a shaman’s drum – and I select the serpent stick apophatic and scaly flesh, an ossification or perfect wood word of my own phallus – and I rough out rhythms rare march quaker meeting I rough rhizomic rhythms ruby march queer meetings I dream shade shadows El Shaddai I dream sessions sun ship and the John Coltrane Quartet stretches rhythm and totality I attain amen blues I sort the language top hat magician’s mess I hold mass language I dream scream black stars and again shade shadows El Shaddai Dream me again yellow yard Yahweh and dream opens pharmacological abyss Dream errors open polly locket hocket dream me forest then ocean / ocean opens radical dream Ocean opens radial dream circles zero circles Cathedral circles Cathedral simon says Sometimes slow cathedral to write slower sludge metal syntax Slow syntax sunshine / summer language Summer dream language languish Syntax laugh track Cathedral circles blue bonnet bumble bees Cathedral circuit bends speak and say An off-beat rim shot on the snare followed by a bass drum bomb referred to by bebop musicians onomatopoetically to as a klook-mop Klook-mop Krystal loch ness monsters Klook-mop Krystal cave calvins / I cough cave I cough cave criminal curious cold cave camel bone Ocean opens cave circle serpent serpent spirals open ocean Ocean opens underwater goggles goons googolplex play ouroboros and dream circles Dream circles and dream is a circle, serpent silhouette serpent I feel silly but I dream and I hate dreaming Dreaming distracts from void sleep and my dreams do not resembles messages or insights, but thrusts insects defuse incohesive isolates islands Arclength dreams anchor arcword world water I write slow repetition I write slow repetition rudder robbery Always I trace circular ruins Each time she saw him wondering away from thee I wonder wide god why / who benjamin binah I transcribe loop techniques of different turntables and filmmakers, and I wonder wander her wilderness, asymmetric loops corresponding to the crack in the groove or to the trembling of a malfunctioning CD player I stream sevenths musics machete god I scratch simultaneous film strips invasive strains stoma Stomach stoma needlepoint samples Needlepoint neanderthals prayer pond: I pray to cave bear ancestors The constancy of God in my life I call by other names: Her Name Her Name near me Her names near me her names annihilate by the name names negate the name Her name Christina Marie her name Krystal Lin her name Asia Rain I dream her names / her names dream me and if she left off dreaming of you (I rest nowhere I sabbath nothing) Nest name number tuplet Taryn task timbre Timber timbre Krystal klangfarbenmelodie melodic names rhythm numbers hyperpop hyphens hells her names Names Nero apocryphally fiddles Rom burns I burn campfire horror A sad tale’s best for winter. I have one of sprites and goblins. We’ve now played the Winter Music quite a number of times. I haven’t kept count. When we first played it, the silences seemed very long and the sounds seemed really separated in space, not obstructing one another. In Stockholm however, when we played it at the Opera as an interlude in the dance program given by Merce Cunningham and Carolyn Brown early one october, I noticed that it had become melodic Winter music water woman Winter music woman water Woman water woman waters ocean tree growth rings I stir waters she stirs I stir waters she stirs winter wrestling Winter wrestles sprites and goblins woodpecker winter god ocean oscillations I rest winter music model modal woman This score consists of 20 unnumbered pages plus title page with performance instructions Score semtex spikenard Yahweh haunts other names Yahweh goblins two-dimensional sprites other many names Luminous names super-luminary names I score name retrograde singularity an aleph orange music Many music musics musicking I do not number the names and I do not name the numbers Five of Wands: strife and conflict Woman wand waves winter music Five wands fire staff strife a structureless structure Strife and conflict with Yahweh I write ugly incohesive but I learn to accept my ugly incohesive / opposite apart noodle oceans Winter music wrestles Winter music blister bonfires Winter music black death bonfires I sit between bonfires blessingway woman paperclip Christina Winter music wrestles black death bonfires Fire warms god width woman I sleep sudden melody I sleep sudden melody desert dopamine sleeping sickness (an illustration from Von Economo’s pie encephalitis lethargica (1918) showing brain tissue of a monkey affected by encephalitis lethargica, as seen under a microscope) Winter music strife strikes sprites Sprites spirits saints ellipsis an eclipse an eyeball eclipse An eye entropy ergodic stochastic surgical sutures Winter music strikes an eye entry entry bebop brains in vat and sometimes she winters spirit wrestle wreckage My flesh wrecks wrench writes sprites My flesh wrenches rib wrecks written written sprites I sprite skirt spiders Winter spiders mimic Michael Jackson’s moonwalk moon spiders spat city sprawl winter stars I see spider constellations blame it on the black star I seesaw celestial sky spiders blame it on the black star blame it on the falling sky I read the phrase “Cross and Khora” I read it as a book title, an anthology of John D. Caputo’s work but I also read it as an accurate account of my chrism-crucifixion with Christ: the prophetic dumah burden carrying my cross daily cut with the empty empty and space space spilling khora Cross and Khora, my new refrain Cross and Khora and Krystal, my writing baptism / blood, breath, belial I retell The Girl Who Stood on a Grave, an old tale well-known in America and the British isles I pin the victim a stick, a post, a croquet stake, a sword, a fork, and her dress drapes airplane drag Her dress domes death dazzle camouflage and death disappears death ghost dogs dismember (fear test: visiting a graveyard at night) (accidental fatal ending of game or joke) Tell retell Taryn Torah triple tailwhip Tell retell Taryn torah time double time half time she shuffles reshuffles shadow El Shaddai Shade El Shaddai El Shaddai sprites goblins girls gods Sprites goblins girls ghosts I slow retell visible invisible ghosts I slow tell inevitable ghosts ice carve chainsaw maw Story stimmung stochastic ransom rotor coils I story slow anyways a volume of the Zohar Story strips stringent stretch music mercury Story strains speculative oil canvas eigenvalue story sticks strengah gotham by gaslight / I slowly chew story kaleidoscope cactus I think through desert I think through deconstruction desert Desert tonality diamond Microtonal desert dust I drink desert diamond water awake Desert drenches trenches droplets diamond water woman I awake water woman different desert waters
Tag: bebop
John Cage Winter Music
John Cage Winter Music To construct the text as musical in music through music Not musical but soundlike counterclockwise then clockwise Text different rotations I twist through tunic my umbilical cords / orpheus orestes ouroboros John Cage Winter Music Music Winter Woman Wheels Wells Woman Musics Wheel middle of the wheel winter Frozen lake goblins lake frozen and I lock lake easter I look lake ishtar inannna band-o-rama John Cage Winter Music John Cage Winter Music wall hall woman horror John Cage Winter Music wall hall boat hull a human iceberg Iceberg ishtar talking blues blast beats A sad tale’s best for winter John Cage Winter Music motor oil medicine Performed in whole or in part by one to twenty pianists, with or without Atlas Eclipticalis My written pages together or separately together and separately I write together women, women together or separately separately together texts simultaneous simultaneous texts and I like everything happening at once I like everything at once happening winter sprites seasonal goblins I perform ghosts I perform ghosts god absences all cavity Cavity concave sits no god concrete chairs or concrete and plaster afterlife, wading Rachel Whiteread water This score consists of twenty unnumbered pages plus title page with performance instructions Twenty totals tabernacle Taryn transforms courtyard to churchyard Twenty turtledroves twenty CLASSROOM TEASERS they bend every rule to turn on the school The performers make a program of a determined time length and then translate to the pages to be played (with space equating to time) I perform nothing I perform nothing I abandon too many texts library lurches labyrinth Library litters labyrinth I perform nothing Nothing novelist nicotine Nothing nautical neurosis nanotube nepsis I ditch dodger devils and I perform nothing supernintendo chalmers Anyways I sleep nothing annihilation Anyone I sleep nothing nude nude Nimrod a mighty hunter before Yahweh And Cush begat Nimrod, who began to be a mighty hunter in the earth (meaning, a cruel oppressor and tyrant) He was a mighty hunter before Yahweh where it is said, as Nimrod the mighty hunter before Yahweh (His tyranny came into a proverb as hated both of God and man: for he passed not to commit cruelty even in God’s presence) I cain cruel: I can crater cruel human meat meteor / pantonal panspermia I cruel cain canal blood channels irrigating field Salton Sea Salton Sea Salt Sea Dead Sea: Sea of Galilee salted gods that have lost their flavor, and I throw out the salt water tramples by tortoises I perform nothing but salton sea I perform none tongue thing and Nimrod finds Babel Bombay Beach I know Nimrod nuclear gnosis / chance cain and aleatoric abel Judaic interpretations as early as Philo and Yochanan ben Zakai (1st century CE) interpreted a mighty hunter before Yahweh (Hebrew gibbor-sayid lipne Yahweh, literally in the face of Yahweh) as signifying IN OPPOSITION to Yahweh; Psuedo-Philo and Symmachus make similar interpretations… I oppose Yahweh I oppose Yahweh agon contra close kontakte and King Kontakte I oppose Yahweh ordeal dog star burden and I kontrapunkte pointillist mazzaroth King Kontakte Kontakte Krystal / Killing Moon Kill Switch Against Yahweh, I invent bebop and I improvise bebop and BIRD LIVES gives more real light than any Christina god I graffiti BIRD LIVES on living woman wall and her clinging brick insects improvise Katydid Krystal Chromatic, melody key to key changes I change with changes I change with changes hell harmony I change with changes rhythm changes bird changes coltrane changes I change with changes whirlwind woman whirlpool woman / voluptuous vermin vision Voluptuous vortex vision / Christina the voluptuous sex kitten I change change changes with woman our own Christianity An original Christianity doesn’t exist An originary Christianity cannot exist and Christianity at all sources rhizomes multiplicity and parallax Christianity's original sources only source an illusionary unity; Christina at the kenosis and Cross already intersections Christianities I invent my Christianities bebop mythology and insect improvisation I insect on an improvisation Christianity and Christianity chance, noise kerygma and random rhema My Christianity opens mystery, I Am ambiguity of the Cross cloud-covered atmospherics noise I change change changes with through woman, chromatic clouds and Krystal keystone cacophony I throughcompose Christianity cacophony and chaos Christianity / aleatoric primordial perpetuum mobile mobile form and openness allows agon against Open allows contra celsus Yahweh and my apologetics arbol weird aleatoric and chance word, Cain tarot cards peering cataracts cardiac arrest / I amy animal I amy any animal I amy any animal anarchy the apparent absolute and I caravan chance the desert Christianity always-already usurps originality, or even a multiple originality but diverges nonlinear the desert Christianity diverges nonlinear noise the desert the diaspora of contradicting irreconcilable Christianities, and I improvise benjamin bebop over kaleidoscope contradictions Christianity ennucelates emanates a radical inclusivity, hospitality and gift utterly reversing Sodom and Gomorrah / Christ endures its sulfur and brimstone Start in the middle of a bar and end in a middle of a bar I involve myself in the color aspect of drumming I keep time in my hands I time my hands time rhythm experiments I time my hands time experimental rhythm Long tone melody agogic accents long duration desert My hands I time my hands hours middle rhythm and someday I transfer syntax and rhythm together Some time I hand transfer together syntax and rhythm I time my hands tie lime twist Time I my hands tie lime twist tourniquet I give arrangements shape story shaped story third story and babel babies rebirth Shape story shaped scissors cut babel plaster hyperplasia but my grey matter deformities climax cross Climax climate change cross criminal cock robin cock-a-doodle-doo desert I use bass drum accents to clearly define the chart’s structure and my structures static still My structures still static stimmung Stimmung my structures static story stitch Time my hands hand hundreds time no editing but structures No edit structure Rhythm no edit structure time in my hands my hands timed titer The filmmaker who first put several shots or scenes discovered that, when the shot follows another, establishes a relationship between the content in the separate shots in the minds of the viewer… This relationship makes film storytelling possible Time my hands film bebop big booper big dripper dippermouth blues Time my hands still static stochastic film and aleatoric bebop Time tenor rhythm I hand my hand time birth of bebop birth of cool jazz Time tenor tea rhythm steeped staccato green-black black-green Jack Kirby’s New Gods My hand tunnels inside a hand / hope hopped horror hopped hope tenor tea Time my hands on fire Time my hands on fire and time my hands pour black flame and green flame My green randomly generates nonlinear gods new rhythm raw You play the reebopping, boom bombs you wanna play you can do it here I play reebop bebop big bad beetleborgs Reebop repeats rock hand millimeters a fire flanger not enough fire so I tenor forests Tenor forests Asia Rain she rain runs (So what you’re saying it’s hard for you to read my writing and your solution is to make it even more disengaged from regular language? No, what you were talking about the other day sounded like this so I thought you’d enjoy it or think it’s fun. If you get one good line out of it then it’s worth it, says Asia. I do think it’s fun. What was I talking about the other day? Playing around with the basics. Oh yes. My idea of permutations and repeating the same phrases with small changes is also based on basics too. Subject improvisation → insect ink improvisation → insect iron ink → insect improvises ink. Or whatever it is. OK, gotcha. Later on I can mess with syntax) I watch a video with jazz drummer Mark Guiliana and he breaks down the basics of musical improvisation with four different elements or parameters: Dynamics (how loud or soft) Rate (the speed of the notes) Placement (where the notes fall within the bar) Orchestration (what drum you play on) He works on one element trying it discover all the possibilities and then slowly learn how to combine two elements together and then three elements… He gives simple demonstrations of playing four equally spaces notes on the shore against a 4/4 hi-hat – playing with the volume and showing all possibilities, and really breaks down how something musically interacts… I think, why bother with the metaphor or basic syntaxes – I know this shit – I have studied it for years, but then I realize that's the exact OPPOSITE of what it means to learn That means I stagnate I become stubborn and stiff and old wineskin No more new wine can come in until I become pliable and welcoming again You play all the reebopping boom bombs you wanna play – you can do that here Play butter battery and eidetic eileen evil’s trip Play butter between battery my irene eileen excited eye eye I eye between butter bass bomb bentley bazooka I try different rhythm interrupts at middle I play different rhythms interrupts at middle mysterious molecules medicine man molecules I manipulate molecules microcosm minute macrocosm Play beginning birth (image of birth and rebirth belly bebop resurrection) Writing slower rhythm and smaller combos my hands comb red coral fire and my slow writing returns different difference rhythms my writing raps rhythms over DJ Qbert stretched beats / turntable tonic Turntable tonic taryn Turntable tonic Taryn crossroad rhythm I practice something different my different din left sevenths and at first I work diatonic scale patterns, triads, and sevenths I practice insect improvisation an initial uppercase Christ and Cross continually broadcasts ghost shadows she slows my jazz hauntings She slows noor nightingales out of the ninth month midnight I nurture work rhythm work I nurture rhythm rubble rhyme Work I noise rhythm rubble anywhere woman ruins woman ruins meltdown desert and I work write shocked quartz shocked queer Practice peer gaze god / cross continues discontinuity cinder shadows cinder shade campfire shadows continued discontinuous cross always cross always cross always christianity shades cinder discontinuity / the most general ghosts The most general ghosts gods graveyard grounds Psalm sauls synchronicity Psalm sauls soul synchros, a slay chrono trigger (now the spirit of Yahweh has withdrawn from Saul and evil spirit from Yahweh afflicted him with terrors) Like Saul, the Spirit of Yahweh left me, and in its steed, a Spirit of Terror tortures me I search for a harpist to soothe my soul Psalm palindromes singularity various-sized cylinders cylinders calico cactus psalms strange strings sonoran desert cylinders cricket koi psalms strange strings sonoran desert and strings ring sun ra el roi, deep calling the deep by the roar of your cataract Deep calls to deep dark ground dark god and cataracts roar raft rapid red bone Red cave bone blues all waves and breakers roll over me Red cave bone banisters speech descending spiral staircase I step red I step red bone I step red rhythm bone red bone rhythm I practice red I practice chroma chromatic I practice chromatic chromatic Chromatic chromatic blood red cross and bone red cross, crossroads many deer run Red deer run rimmel bone and I do not rescue bone but I reuse bone I bricoleur bone arachnid appendages Spider spells spill sprawl speak prophecy and I don’t know who to speak Yah I don’t know who to speak to god Yahweh and speak from God Yahweh My speech chariot smokes chokes black smoke from fire Speech Shekinah speech Sophia torah tardigrades water degrades desert bare Desert bare black bears bonfire black smoke Black smoke ghosts holy ghost Black swollen ghosts holy spirit goblins sprites split thirds and triads trill a scanner darkly Triads tremolo a scanner darkly Taryn rotoscope and I animate amy anarchy I practice triads rotating roots, Taryn triads triple name: triple male, triple power, the androgynous one with three names (created by Tex Avery for Metro-Goldwyn-Mayer, Screwy Squirrel appeared in only five cartoons between 1944-1945. Generally considered the wackiest and outright most antagonistic of the screwball cartoon characters of the 1940s) I practice triads rotating roots, and I often invert Christianity as cartoon / slapstick holy spirit I lack creativity / I practice creativity I send Francesca Woodman photographs to Asia I waste time reading comments on Nick Shabazz’s YouTube channel because I don’t want to put in the work to make my writing better I fear no amount of work I put into the writing will make it satisfactory I fear I will always write the mediocre, the meddling, the pretentious I lack creativity / I practice creativity and I practice writing nothing of interest I practice boredom and rough drafts and drum body valley of the drums stream-of-consciousness I return to my Christianities and to the Nag Hammadi Library: in my case the proverb has proved true the dog returns to its own vomit and the washed sow wallows in the mud again I vomit vision Yahweh and I consume the Torah Scroll sweet as honey in my mouth sour in my stomach / documentary hypothesis explosive diarrhea bible bludgeons black blood and bile from all orifices Bible betrays and backstabs / Judas Iscariot sacrifices the man who clothes him and Judas exceeds the other disciples (I practice triads rotating roots different inversions of Christianity)
A primary pulse plays parousia pile porneia…
content warning: pornographic imagery Underworld unit circle chlorines culinary cemetery and I cook food flesh I cook food flesh cannibal alchemy I cook food flesh clocks quarter chunks of thighs Taryn tortuga oily alchemy dinosaur bones Unstable underworld wraps bronze age collapse and sea peoples invade my vertebrae barracuda back pain Underworld ulsters serpent the very serpent and its skin stretches over my skin benjamin bebop rhythms Underground unlocks serpent skeleton upward and her serpent mediates skies earth underground Serpent unites serpent circles heaven and hell sea urchins / lake elongates sea anemone undulation As Eddie “Cleanhead” Vinson said, even in Coltrane’s days of raw anonymity, he changed his style almost every six months I don’t think I change my style every six months but I change my topics of obsession every six months – or every three, or two, or one months I currently edit a selection I wrote more than six months ago, and stylistic continuity exists Red Garland said of Coltrane during his stint in Miles Davis First Great Quintet: And he has the damnedest way of breaking chords down, but I have no trouble accompanying him because of that sense of continuity… Perhaps I shouldn’t aim for UNITY but rather CONTINUITY: a progression, a record or archive of transformation (note to self: study mathematical mappings, morphisms, and categories) Asia thinks my writing changes though, for the better – so perhaps a change happens and I too happen to change Lake elongates Lake elongates liberates serpent libertine and snake sheds transformation Lake transforms ladder lattice surface folios and this folding feels This folding feels felt feelers, arkansas stone antennae Folio serpent fire fertility feminine fields and I flash breasts benjamin different mathematical fields (the regular heptagon cannot be constructed using only a straightedge and compass construction; this can be proven using the fields of constructible numbers) Folio fleet masturbates illuminated manuscripts I cum semen scripture bible blows bodily fluids, sperm lymph blood I folio flatted fifths nigredo, and in nigredo I do not negate the black painting but I embrace Book Black pigment poured molten serpents I folio opus magnum maverick manuscripts and music / John Cage’s Concert for Piano and Orchestra Written to provide the evening with a climax, Piano For Piano And Orchestra (1957-1958) – exuberantly indeterminate – created by a composer with the intention – to hold together extreme disparities music has one finds them held together in the natural world such as a forest or a city street (I embrace the aleatoric I chance chance city and city citadel connects catastrophes chaoses congregations) I draw the Four of Cups from the Rider-Waite-Smith tarot deck (In english-speaking countries, where the games are largely unknown, Tarot cards came to be utilized primarily for divinatory purposes; the unconscious finds meaning and fulfillment in tarot’s images and symbols) I drink four of cups (meditation, contemplation, apathy, revelation) I contemplate something like Jesus Christ or John Cage I contemplate Concert For Piano and Orchestra, and it compromises 63 pages played in part or whole, in any sequence, involving 84 types of composition… I shout splatterpunk march of the pigs chance chronos confessions / I cone cross opus magnum marginal confessions I confess at margins I confess at khora aporia boa constrictor chance concert chemicals I saw wood and boil kettles on the stage I pour four cups chalopyrite butterflies I childbear chance aleatoric adonai I childbear chance novel nigredo and I blacken the boil, kettle krystal locker combination cave systems I find folios on fire dark cave gnarled nigredo Nigredo grenade nigredo granular synthesis I generate some sentence using a random sentence generator: She tilted her head back and let whip cream stream into her mouth while taking a bath (I read this as whip cream steam Sonic Youth’s Pink Steam Woman whip cream steam stew stegosaurus dinner plates and I arrange the plates speaking to ghosts in graveyards I arrange plate tectonic folio fault leaves speaking to gods at the ghiblet gowned grave) I tilt folio electronics a manuscript tail end manuscript, an absolutely aleatoric manuscript I tilt tank tilt-a-whirl woman (they line-up to mad dog your tilt-a-whirl and what this aleatoric feline folio: continuity Time linear laboratory luminous lakes makes a birthday cake for christina) I tilt folio kickflips and folio flows woman water female fire: I maintain the campfire Christina (Are you secretly a succubus? Haha new phone who dis? JK who else would ask me that. What happened to your old phone? Did it suffocate in your cunt? Apparently they use the term waterproof very loosely. Your cunt is that wet?!?! The technology is that insufficient?!?! True – I mean how do these phone companies expect us fetishists to have our phones survive our cunts and assholes? I mean they’re the ones who made them vibrate, says Christina) Four of cups Christian cups my balls and she tilts her head back and lets my semen stream into her mouth while taking a bath (I often feel comfortable writing pornography about Christina – ironic considering her asexuality) (My word process doesn’t recognize the word bukkake, I tell Christina. Not even if you put it in its face? My computer doesn't have a face. What do you cum into? Not my computer? LET MY STUPID JOKES LAND! says C) Nevertheless, pornography proves itself necessary Pornography plays pillow books with the Divine / Cosmic Horror and Horror closet homosexual Yahweh Start in the middle of a bar and end in the middle of a bar / nothing new nothing localized Start in the middle of the bar and in the middle of a bar / push birthpangs deer door sabbatai sevi Start in the middle of a barge then boat where Cropsy shears fingers, throats, and faces Start in the middle of the boat and lake ladder lattice illuminate sheer illumination, body as illuminated manuscript body silverleaf essen goldleaf body gilt grand garden Body grounds lake garden harvest of gods Body genders lake gods groupers gardens and lake elongates candy shears and rolling pin pineapple grenade My body lasks lake parasite and parasite peeks peak play, python play pli selon pli My body laps lake parasite and parasite peeks peaks play prophecy / spirit of elijah laughs left Spirit of elijah loops left and I demand more repetition I demand more fucking repetition / pornography Pornography polymodal chomaticism Pornography pitch axis theory jean Sibelius’ Symphony No. 4 outlines the tritone Lattice latches hatches a lens or cassette tape Lattice latches punk patches loops or cassette tapes Generation One Soundwave Start in the middle end in the middle I need new noise and more noise I need noise anew I believe I’ll dust my broom I need noise anew and my right hand plays the ride cymbal as the primary time source and my left hand plays active a source of rhythm counterpoint Noise narrates nigredo, radioactive drum black black ballads I believe I’ll dust my broom Noise narrates nigredo nanomachines, a nonlinear counterpoint hands as numerical solutions time source circles Nonlinear counterpoint adheres-decoheres right hand left hand and my rhythm twins primes pulses / I write platypus I write duck-billed platypus plays mammon hamill joker venom I write right hand left hand studies serpent texts intertextual bebop and I drum desert rhythm rhythm nigredo Nigredo indeed fulcrums folios mad scientist multiplication Nigredo indeed fulls no-filler folios bride of frankenstein logarithms Nonlinear napier’s bones I know nighttime rhythm rhythm nigredo and black nicotines neodymium noise (I improvise as a composer and I composer improvisationally) Nocturnal I name my hands noise and my nicotine tarots time My right hand as four of cups cards primary time compound rhythmic counterpoint My right hand carpal tunnel trembles tremolo primary time complex counterpoint and my time turns nigredo My time tears nigredo tusked noise I write right hand primary time my left hand rhythmic counterpoint Asia conversations (What makes you want to write? I ask Asia. Good question… I’m writing myself into existence and the world into existence. I like that… do you think you’re prophesying too? Maybe, says Asia) Nonlinear neoplastic noise A primary pulse play my hands times and in time pedal points Primary pulses play pedal points plot middle and my middle intermingles metallurgy movement noise and noise My middle intermingles interruption Raw rock rhythm rock ground the clock rocket eighty-eight noise and noise A primary pulse participates new york hardcore hardcore pornography and I prostitute my pulse porneia my flesh as prison phone call A primary pulse plays parousia pile porneia… Start in the middle and end in the middle Is not the liturgical poet who first writes that clay vessels in which leaven was cooked must be broken before Passover and then states that they must be stored in wooden sheds, guilty of contradiction? … It is poetic liberty to state together two contradictory principles… I caterpillar the primary pulse rare earth magnetic rhythmic contradictions I counterpoint primary pulses riddle rhythmic contradictions no correction (I attempt to correct everything anything much noise) I contemplate contradiction in Torah or the Gospel readings and contradictions congeal into rhythmic counterpoint / calcinatio and congelatio of mystery I tangle in Torah / I tango Torah a Taryn Tarantula and near the day of purification, Taryn will spin cobwebs back and forth in the sky I tension tight in Torah / I terrace Torah taryn tensors and contradictions feldspar folios no field but female The scholarly consensus remains that the text composes composite composts composite compound contradictions I do not cut contradictions but I collect and she circular breathes serpent circle I do not cancel contradictions but I congregate them and she summons chronos kairos simultaneous rhizome The existence of E as a complete source sinews questionable questable silver The existence of E as complete source remains doubted (I doubt in doublets) because E first appears well after the beginning of the Torah and proves almost impossible to disentangle from J after the Exodus (I enjoy studying the composition of the Torah – and by extension, the Tanakh – because of its multiplicity… When Deleuze and Guattari describe the Book as assemblage, as multiplicity minus the one, as rhizome – certainly the Tanakh is rhizomic Book par excellence My Book too assembles a thief in the night, a documentary or supplementary hypothesis, fractal fragments) I tangle-disentangle Torah I construct-deconstruct Torah and Torah torrents Taryn the Shining’s Jack Torrance Thus many scholars talk of JE together as an early narrative source, incorporating diverse traditions Wait, I changed my mind: I start something different, a different rhythm, a rhythm in the middle of a rhythm I want that eruptive feeling aht Charlie Parker had I want that eruptive feeling that Yardbird Yahweh had My rhythm erupts boxing ring rascal uppercuts and I jab many radios theater multiplex messy fingerprints (Basquiat painted quickly and directly, surrounding himself with sources of inspiration – music in studio especially bebop and hip-hop, worked with TV running and books lying on the floor, from which he copies images, homes, and incipient…) I attempt something like Torah rhythm doublets drives not drives but Sabbatai Sevi’s Donmeh / huh uh huh her nonsense rhythm I attempt something Tohu Wa-bohu woman rhythm and bell different beginnings bereshit volleyball vision volleyball behemoth and bahamut (The fish – Bahamut – carries on its back the giant bull – Kujata – and on the green hyacinth slab stands an earth-bearing angel) rhythm benjamin baphomet big bone belly / I arcane alloanimal abandon I arcane alloanimal apollyon and abbadon
God Is Dead Hauntologies
God is dead glue made from horse hooves roller coaster tophat horror God is dead glucagon glycon gizzard candyland gumdrops The game requires no reading and minimal counting skills, making it suitable for young children The game god is dead and the game Christianity / I jump dead end no outlets I jump blues jump jazz attempt something else but I realize always-already arrive to through apocalypse / surreal seesaw metamorphosis Meromorphic complex functions something maps to God is dead theology, not a nothing but a negation / I suddenly remember something from Slavoj Zizek’s book How To Read Lacan: God is dead but he doesn't know it… The chapter begins with a quote from Lacan: the true formula of atheism is not God is dead – even by basing the origin of the function of the father upon his murder, Freud protects the father – the true formula of atheism is God is unconscious… Slavoj Zizek goes on to say: The modern atheist thinks he knows that god is dead; what he doesn't know it that, unconsciously, he continued to believe in God… I don’t know much about Jacques Lacan’s work despite owning Ecrits (read, you may remember a mystical mentor recommended it to me in order to break through my own subjectivity, but I still haven’t read it) and I’ve only received Lacan filtered through Zizek’s Hegelian whatever Marxist dialectical dumbells, and I still have no idea what it means for God to be unconscious I don't know what it means for God to be unconscious, but a couple conversations with Asia Rain elucidate that unconsciousness: Going back to Louisiana has made me realize that I do what to write poetry, says Asia. I want to write about the ghost that we leave behind. What about Louisiana made you realize you want to write poetry? Just all the ways it’s changed but hasn’t, the way it continues to decay, the people who aren’t there anymore. I took my daughter to some of the spots I used to play at. Like the giant magnolia tree in my grandma’s yard, and the big metal centipede shaped playground equipment at Cassidy Park… The decay is the ghost left behind? Entropy? The ghosts are the tendrils of what used to be, the whisper of things long gone, forgotten to left behind. There is a funny rock at my grandma’s house with a hole in it. The hole is just big enough for a child to stick their foot in. My mother’s grandma stone is from the rocky mountains, and she told my mom that it was magic and if you stick your foot in it, you can make a wish. My mother’s grandma is dead and people are still sticking their foot in that rock. Is God a ghost then? You experience God as a ghost? I experience people as ghosts. So what did you wish for? I don’t remember. My foot doesn't fit anymore. When you pass away your poems will be ghosts about ghosts. Yes. People don’t just leave – they leave things behind. Pieces of themselves – we carry bits of others with us. Eve the ones we didn’t really know influence us. When I was aware enough to know my dad’s grandmother, she was already dying of cancer. But my dad told me when I was young and full of curiosity and a hunger for the world that I reminded him of her. She always had her nose in a book apparently. You admire my curiosity because it is a mirror for your curiosity, I say. In the movie Solaris, there’s a line about that: that people don’t want to find extraterrestrial life, they want to find mirrors. Sometimes I imagine my suicide – I never think I will die a natural death – and I wonder what you’d think of me. How disappointed you’d be in me. I wouldn't be disappointed, says Asia. It would be heartbreaking though, she says. Ghosts Ghost Gravity Ghosts First Variations and Albert Ayler vowels wide warp vibrato Ghosts Ghosts groundless gods and sometimes I feel god outside infusing her influx into me, and sometimes I feel she resides inside me and I manifest her force and fire outward into the world (World of Ghosts Word of Ghosts) Unconscious God possibly gestates as Yahweh of Hosts Yahweh of Ghosts hauntological El Shaddai God is not dead but God haunts and god haunts absolutely God haunts absolute ablation: God haunts open ablation, and hatch etching open wounds and open categories I should read Mark Fisher and his ideas on hauntology I have too much to read, encounter, and absorb, and my work never finishes My work never finishes but I always continue to work and I repeat the work (Rabbi Tarfon used to say: it is not your duty to finish the work, but neither are you at liberty to neglect it…) I know I have too much to write and I often forget to write what I need and want to write, and witting sprawls spills fractal fragment rhizomes Still I write montage cut montage scratched collided collage and I hope (I secretly pray to that Haunted Yahweh) that what needs to return, resurrect, revive fire bloom blaze flowers fever super mario brothers People like you and me who grow up in spirituality never get away from it completely, says Asia My brain dissociates dust daniel demons, four beasts bebop apocalypse Apocalypse rhythms and rhythms chasin’ the trane tenors tigers and taryn-tigress-face-lion (Woman are like tigers cats: they ought to be caged at sixteen and shot at twenty… Taryn-Tigress-Lion-Tabernacle eats me, and her lion curses me cain corrugated cardboard The lion curses benjamin as Cain, and I course black canvas black pigment the chrysanthemum crush of Cain and Adam Kadmon They Yahweh said to Cain: why are you angry? Why are you dejected? If you act rightly, you will be accepted, but if not, sin lies in wait at its door; its urge is for you yet you can rule over it (Sin personified as a power that “lies in wait” – Hebrew “robes” – at a place In Mesopotamian religion, a related word – rabish – refers to a malevolent god who attacks human beings in particular places like roofs or canals) Tiger Cut Woman and Tiger Cut Taryn troubles or turtles waters bronze washers let us go out into the fields and her cage fogs gods gears Christ's bridal chamber and her chamber arrows to the four chambers of the human heart / atrium arias ventricle visions Tiger Lion Lion Tiger The woman Eats me Woman, Cain and Adam Adam and Abel Tiger lion lion Tiger the Woman eats me Human Christ Cross Christina and I take cage in her stomach Her stomach solders my skin stigmata Her stomach telescopes my body sections stoma and I stretch her intestines serpent time and serpent swing Her stomach tiger cats my cranium and surrounding cartilages missing kids on the milk cartons, and she projectile vomits my vision as buckshot shotgun ghost god cut testicles / her feminine feminizes my flesh, closer to futures firestarters Her Tigress-Lionness surges surgeon-fire and suture-fire, and fire licks flicks flows my flesh fliers farther fire (Taryn works towards her Registered Nursing First Assist certification: she finishes all her clinical hours and she takes her final exam tomorrow She has two attempts to pass this four hour test and I hope – I pray to Ghost God and Hauntological Yahweh she passes) I nurse name nemesis another star a star other than Lucifer, the Light-Brighter-Nemesis a hypothetical red dwarf or brown dwarf, originally postulated in 198r to be orbiting the sun at a distance of about 95,000 AU (1.5 light-years), somewhat beyond the Oort Cloud, to explain a perceived cycle of mass extinctions in the geological record, which seem to occur more often at intervals of 26 million years I want the universe to be as WEIRD as possible I want the universe edging at a copulative incomprehensible sensuality, orgy, and rhizome ejaculation I don’t think Nemesis exists but I nurse nemesis oh no whatever nevermind I nurse nemesis nemein – the giving of what is drew I nurse nemesis nurse, the proto-indo-european nem, distribute (Ancient fresco from Pompeii depicting the abandoned Ariadne, Cupid, and probably Nemesis. National Archaeological Museum, Naples) Hesiod states: Also deadly Nyx bore Nemesis an affliction to mortals subject to death (Theogeny, 223, through perhaps an interpolated line) I only write interpolations: I only write hermeneutics against hermeneutics god holes accent punctuate bright bird bebop I copy cant cool jazz birth of the cool benjamin kool-aid wallbreakers (Justice – Dike, on the left – and Divine Vengeance – Nemesis, right – pursue the criminal murderer. By Pierre-Paul Prud’hon, 1808) The Nemesis-T Type the result of infecting a T-103 model Tyrant – a humanoid bio-weapon created as the ultimate lifeworm with the Nemesis Alpha parasite designed to increase its intelligence… a genetically engineered copy of the Las Plagas parasite Upon infection, the parasite takes control of the Tyrant’s nervous system, forming its own brain and enabling it to follow precise instructions and make decisions with a need for constant direction Clothed in black trousers, an overcoat, boots, gloves, and Nemesis armed with a rocket launcher mounted to its left arm… To emphasize its design as a prototype, it has exposed muscles of its body and stitches to cover the right eye Upon spotting its target, Nemesis says its targets names out loud and attacks Nemesis nervous video nasty Nemesis noise and I need noise I need loud noise IDM rhythms, the amen break cut up mashed up cobbled cain a canister of Prince of Darkness slime and secret ooze that mutates Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles Nemesis notum notebook draws inset itineraries the dorsal thoracic segment of my zero section serotonin Nemesis notum leeches neat a circular plate covering the dorsal surface of a thoracic segment of an insect Nemesis notum notch back black monster pigment and I place pig in place pixie pigment black I clang klang clamorous tumultuous vociferous votic vision Vixen vowels vulpine vowels the sensual Yod Hay Vav Hay Nemesis vowels voluptuous Yod Hay Vav Hay horror and I do not survive Christ’s chimera kaleidoscope monstrosity, and Yahweh too news noses Nemesis Yahweh too new noises avenges justice cut jugular blood jamboree Yahweh submerges his thrones and chariots bloody genocides mutilated mulched machete characters and I comb aged-meat and meat salt-cured Yahweh Saturn devours his Son of Man Adam Human Yahweh the Lion-Face medicine mask meat cleaver cut benjamin and butcher benjamin I feel automatic I want to write intentional rhythm and rhythmic intentional: strong rhythm with strong accents I write automatic within barlines: boring rhythms and regular rhythms I seer, don’t I I seer as Isaiah Ben Amoz, the Seer, don’t I Yahweh possesses me the TRANCE and the TARYN Yahweh sigils signs shamans signs and the spirit of God rushed upon me and I join the seers in prophetic ecstasy, and I too strip my garments and remain in ecstatic state, and I see day and night as I lay naked I feel automatic aromatic axelay and my body mutates large central bone protrusions and elongated tentacles Start in the middle of a bar and end in a middle of a bar Kenny Clarke made possible a more relaxed and interesting flow, generally increasing rhythmic possibilities He could open up his arms and freely use his feet The cymbal playing allows for variety in timbre subtleties in sound, and feelings impossible under old rules Start in the middle of a bar and in the middle of a bar I do not relax the flow but I increase intensity (look straight at the camera. At the camera. And Slowly. With passion. Straight at the camera. And in your eyes, there's passion. Got it?) I relax not my rhythm but my mind and my mind merges Fire Music and Fire Woman I rhythm rodin rodan roden crater, strong rhythms sharp rhythms (Satellite view of Roden Crater, site of an earthwork by James Turrell outside Flagstaff, Arizona) I start in the middle I start in the middle merger Monsters I start in middle, a philosopher’s milk meeting my brain Rhythm I start middle meddle huddle hurdle and I hang I hang the Voynich Manuscript’s gallow letters several middles Middle as the start of the real number line the long line The closed long ray L the cartesian product of the first uncountable ordinal omega-one with the halfopen interval [0,1), equipped with the order topology that rises from the lexicographical order on omega-one x [0,1) I always get confused by the difference between ordinal numbers and cardinal numbers I want to learn – or understand – strongly inacessible cardinals) I remove myself from mathematics / I revisit a total topology taryn and I modify myth into pseudomathematics sacred geometry X numerology I need to make a more rigorous mathematics for myself and I study new numbers I study new nudes naked numbers and Taryn resembles an eight then an infinity symbol The cross imbues all my experiences with shadow trauma topology of Christ’s crucifixion, and I even interpret the mathematics as mystical, a revealed calculus or fundamental theorem (Erdȍs exclaims this one is from the Book!) I map the topological long line onto the line light emitting Adam Kadmon Klang Kontakte Krystal Still, I must intend rhythms I must intend rhythms while simultaneously freeing rhythm I relax my mind or mental concepts, a rhythm category without category and a rhythm category without rhythm More relaxed and I rest bebop drop tenor saxophonists La Monte Young and Sabbatai Sevi I rest oral torah bebop and I improvise Native American legends, war stories, ghost stories, detective stories, stories of heroism, the history of life, and I talk about the stars I render reader oral torah jazz and Charles Mingus chucks a cymbal at Yahweh when Yahweh misses the changes Author William W. Forgey’s introduction to his 1984 book Campfire Stories… Things That go Bump In The Night notes that in his ten years of service as a scout-master, the most requested campfire stories were stories that evoke fear I interpret the Bible as campfire stories and Bereshit bellows blake black, my brain begin block babel mycosis Fungus furrows into the cavities of my face face-to-face freight and colonies invade my body pog play parasites The Bible campfire story butchers Book bereshit black blake beetles and insects and fungus synergize god gelatin bible biofilm Book always bodices horror Book always bondages body horror and Bereshit submerges itself in Sodom’s semen Bereshit baptizes in the God Gomorrah rage rape raptors and the Malak secretly secrete pheromones messianic flesh frenzy flesh fucked sons of god / sons with sons and gods with gods I interpret improvise BOMB ben BOMB bereshit and campfire lights stories illuminated medieval manuscripts Bereshit black blood blake book bedrock oozes lichen light licked lich book blake black bed rock oozes composite organisms and it multiplies aged meat formed undead regenerating decays flesh, a future delicacy BOMB ben BOOK begins bough bell witch campfires and bow bebops bass bombs a god in irregular accents Irregular god grommets horrific holes in the universe and the great attraction flails super galaxy fungus filament, light-years x light-years Yahweh Yahweh and Bereshit emerge from the same originless origin, an open wound big bang BASS BOMB ben BOOK Yahweh and Bereshit squirm sirens tsimtsum contracted valis satellites and the Soviet Union retroactively imparts pink beams backwards into the egg Yahweh Adamantium Forehead
Charlie Parker Rhythm Experiments
I repeat the painting pigments peels rhizomic and my writing ruins rhythms and rhythms ruins I repeat black paintings in block chords black ash accompaniment, and my rhythm rips hips changes My rhythm chop hops changes large hadron collider… I decide to do something different I decide to do something different and write something else!!!! because this black painting rhythm works against me – not against me in a holistic polyrhythm hypermeter manner, but a harsh hall hull dissonance / Kenny Clarke’s loss of employment with bands because a rule rather than the exception, punished for breaking time and dealing with rhythm in news ways Perhaps I do not break the rhythm but the rhythm breaks against my body and I gesture and articulate my skeleton in unfamiliar ways My body conforms to crucifixion My body conforms to creation is crucifixion and the cross morphs into cartoon configurations and comic constellations The rhythm against my body in contact with my body touches tender then enters as a taproot spinal tap: completely rhizome, Son of Beast rough on the ribs I attempt a Charlie Parker rhythm and I write a stilted stream of unaccented eighth notes defined by bar lines I write my rhythms confined within barlines and I do not push forward the melodic line I read an article about how to play rhythmically like Charlie Parker and I decide to borrow some of its practice tips: Phrasing through barlines like Yardbird Start in the middle of a bar and end in the middle of a bar: learn to start and end a phrase anywhere in a measure… start phrases on upbeats often: by starting your phrases on upbeats, you’ll force yourself to play rhythms that move your phrases through barlines Push your phrases to beat one and keep playing: think of one as a destination and when you reach it, keep playing and end your phrase in the middle of the bar Play through at least one bar line per phrase I decide to do a writing experiment I imagine the barline as the constraint or container for the melodic fragment just like a sentence contains and constrains the noun phrase-verb phrase structure of sentences (I reserve the right to modify the analogy of melodic phrase mapped onto noun phrase / and / or verb phrase and / or sentence depending on how terrible my phrase experiments turn out) (wait, the written sentence as the chord change and I improvise rhythm through the sentence) (Who knows – I have to write it out and see what works, and I will make the analogy fit the rhythmic-and-melodic sentence-and-word praxis and liturgy) I pick the following sentence from some pulp or men’s magazine: Vampire leopard women roam the jungle Vampire with vim Vampires vim voice vocals Vampires vim voice Vampires with vim varnish steel Vampires with vim varnish Valravyn, the first dive coaster model in the Cedar Fair chain of parks and opens as the tallest, fastest, and longest of its kind in the world (Thought or aside: remove conjunctions and let the phrases run and pass through each other Speed up the rhythm and punctuate the rhythms although Asia tends to like the slower, longer, meditations of my reading The page has room for both The page has space for both) Vim vampires Vim vampires van the vav / Yod Hay Vav Hay Vim vampires van the vav an open vulva That vim vampire Wim Wenders directs Wings of Desire (syllable count and sprung rhythm) Vampires vim violet-ear waxbills and bird’s the word Vampires vim violet-ear waxbills bird’s the word This is for all your turkey’s out there bird bird bird bird is the word Have a listen to Charlie Parker soloing over Thriving on a Riff, a simple rhythm changes tune that he blows a few creative choruses on I FOUND GOD… and religions too… Vampire leopard vibe variable Vampire leopards vibe variable vav vav hav vortex tags texts / I scramble texts collects rhythm I scrabble texts scorpion rhythm (no transition as transition and no transformation as transformation) Vampire leopards vibe vav Vampire leopards vav variable verse and I video verse I videotape verse video cassette video home system and vav harps tape ribbon rhythm Vav vela voices votive offerings velum pleroma (Nothing but the letter and space no punctuation except this punctuation: these parentheses) I break the A section of his solo into three large phrases and they operate completely independently of the bar lines He plays through every bar line Pyre leopards vita variable vav vibraphone jazz jams Pyre pearl leopards vav vena cava Christina and I carnival chance operations Pyre nears leopards vav vena cava vlog Christina I carnival chance operations (no conjunctions but the conjunction of planets no conjunctions conjunctions the planets) More play pyre leopard vitamins vein pulses along the radial edge of the forearm joins the cephalic vein near the elbow Chance operations Coltrane Chance operations take the A Train take the coal train he had the rhythm I have no rhythm but I limp leper vampire leopard I have no rhythm I limp leper Charlie Brown loser vampire leopard I push my phrase to beat one and I keep playing I push my phrase to beat one I keep playing and I play psalm prayer salt circle will the circle be unbroken I play my phrase to beat one I keep playing I play piston honda piston punches (Honda steps back and jumps from side to side, then comes back to the center and attacks) I want to embrace the full variety and possibilities of rhythm in rhythm, a perhaps pastiche of polystylism / I cop Thomas Pynchon in Against The Day I start phrases on upbeat downbeats drag rush in-between beats I birth my own beat I birth beats tribe of benjamin battering ram I write rhythm I write rhythm new rhythm rhythm changes contrafact Christianity I embrace rhythm variable vav: KRYSXTRYN Taryn Tetragrammaton Atom bomb cobalt bomb mailbomb (proud to commit commercial suicide) Root rhythm rhythm rooted in rhythm Root rhythm rafters lebanon cedars rhythm rests Root rhythm rhythm rooted rests rotors – not rotors but ran or run – run ran rests supernal thorns in Sabbath Rhythm as rope – rhythms rhythm rope root Rhythm as rope roots rhythm root rope I suspend with rope rhythm I suspend root rhythm ring around the roses and I imagine the nursery rhyme secretly passed down through many generations before its recording, and it contains coded language alluding to the Black Death, the Great Fire of London, and the collapse of the London Bridge Nursery rhymes rhythm calamity, secret roots prerecorded (Future project: a writing through of nursery rhymes elucidating their coded messages and imaginary clandestine histories) I rhyme root rhythm my hell kaleidoscope heresy / rhythm as memory Rhythm rope memory suspension and my body suspends suspended seconds onto suspended fourths My body suspend species counterpoint suspensions and the fourth and second voice lead leopard vampires or vampire leopards third and unisons I rhythm underground unisons I rummage rhythm ruins underground unisons and I play unripe vine wine worms woman Underground unisons uterus word womb wheel The first A section again from Parker’s solo on Thriving on a Riff, breaking the longer phrases into even smaller phrases to see how he uses space space space khora space space khora space as tympanum penny dreadful desert drama Space khora space leaving its outside as outside without opposition, and khora open rhythms corrupts concentric circles Christianity and Christianity Christianity attempts to keep space but khora receives permits all crossing I went to the crossroads fell down on my knees asked the lord above breaking the larger phrases into even smaller phrases to see and I see space sacred space racer (begin sequences in the middle of sentences and complete them with other sentences weave interleaf interweave sentences the living woman repetition) breaking the larger phrases into even smaller spaces khora congregates the empty empty Christianity, Christianity completely khora Christianity completely Krystal and the smallest kenosis kisses Smaller kenosis kisses kassandra crucifixion and I break thief bones like I break the larger phrases into and onto a bijective function flesh I break rhythm as I break bread breadth bereshit, bypass blues bitches brew I begin break bipolar borderline personality disorder asia phat acid bass Bass subwoofer woman breaks bones subsonic vibrations Bass subwoofer woman breaks bones blues subsonic saddle point vibrations / inflections Long tone internode imitate my eye eye for an eye my eye exits for another eye long tone internode imitates my eye emergency and I long tone sepsis rhythm space sepsis massive vasodilation During systemic vasodilation I experience vision Not near death visions – light tunnels, angel choirs, confronting cocaine cockroaches – but I saw Torah and Woman I saw Torah and the Woman just intonation transformer I play cloud chamber bowls breasts El Shaddai shaking Torah scroll transformer travels tension wires woman of blues and jazz Woman of blues and jazz rhythms The Torah rhythm shakes scroll benjamin Sabbatai Sevi and Woman-As-Scroll kisses Woman-As-Scroll kisses my phallus and swallows my semen and the scroll transfuses my blood Book thunderbirds cave bears donatello among the wild beasts My Book Woman and Torah scroll sketches lines in middle paleolithic bone, the first vowels or letters mimicking Tetragrammaton Woman writes book with my body, Torah Scroll and Nag Hammadi Codex Woman writes Book with my skeleton steeped in semen, Zohar and Philip K. Dick’s Exegesis She writes the library I write Library Tower of Babel and Taryn Torah Tetragrammaton resurrects me from my suicide Taryn Tower Scarlet Babalon arouses me camp meeting second great awakening Play through a blues and after a small phrase you improvise, insert an eight or quarter note rest before the next phrase I always play I play always-already long tone internode interzone and I snort swing El Shaddai rhythms Snort swing earthworm jim earthworm woman infestations insert an eight I snort snore swing El Saturn records rockhound insects infested film I snort infested film silver nitrate women of sin celluloid jagged jazz rests Play through a blues Isaac the Blind benjamin barroom bahir / brilliance taryn brilliance Play through a blues outside outside Play through a blues blues outside outside not a tunnel but a tower Play through a blues blues mood indigo imago my metamorphic eye isolated bahir larger blocks of space Play through a blues and after each larger phrase improvised, rest for at least a measure: pay attention to the difference between using tiny bits of rest versus using larger blocks I play through a blues through a blues boomerang bomb blubber Blue whale surfaces large rest water and through blues boomerang bomb blubber / black oil tombs obelisks Christian casket
Black Painting Bebop And Black Painting Urban Legends
Something about rhythm and something with rhythm Something with rhythm bebop rhythm and hardbop rhythm, gospel funk fantasie and make my funk p-funk Make my myth p-funk and sun ra futures and if you can’t be free be a mystery Something about rhythm and something with rhythm: woman rhythm and body rhythm, the choreography kung fu and marital arts movies, and my body sometimes surprises me My body sometimes surprises me with new movement and different movement, body kontra-punkte and no pulse but trick plot polyrhythms Too limiting, not sufficiently flexible for what he was after as a member of the rhythm section I don’t limit how I write but I limit what I write, and I write the holy HOW hover freedom freedom of my flesh libertine light and liberated light… Writing idea, I say to Asia Rain. Alternating lowercase and all caps to display two ideas at once… FIRST IDEA second idea says something FIRST IDEA REPEATED second or third idea says something FIRST IDEA VARIATION second of third of fourth idea goes in. I was looking at a movie poster that did this. I would be interested to see how it works, says Asia (This film is filled with… SHOCK victim after victim dies horribly in throat cutting orgy AFTER SHOCK unnatural laboratory experiments performed behind barred doors AFTER SHOCK once again he will change sexes and kill kill kill?…) I interpret the interleaving ALL CAPS and lowercase music and electroacoustic improvisation as strong and irregular accents, a kind of Rite of Spring sacrifice rhythm and bebop bass drum bombs I attempt an alchemist milk of mythology and music, and I live myth and music This experiment and idea might come to nothing, like my short-lived attempts at writing under erasure However, I want to write failures and experiments To deal with pieces played with very fast tempos, he came upon interesting solutions… He made the ride cymbal the primary time source, and the left hand became active as a source of rhythmic counterpoint… I write tempered steel tempos, magnacut cataclysm I write taryn fast texts tempos turmoil / through the turmoil and tinfoil and I reassemble the Legend of Zelda triforce I write taryn harmonic tension fast tempos fast transitions translations chrono trigger, and I record ink tobacco impossibility I archive ink tobacco mosaic virus impossibility, and my rhythm mary many rivers floods fertile crescent upper and lower nile floodplains Tobacco mosaic virus a positive-sense single-stranded RNA species virus in the genus Tobamovirus that inflicts a wide range of plants, especially tobacco I chew tobacco at fast tempos I smoke tobacco fast clouds common tones and my vision voice leads not only by melodic resolution but rhythmic resolution / HARMONY and ACCENTS I write right hand right hand dominant sevenths secondary dominants, and my hand blesses as treetops with the tabernacle I go into the Tent of Meeting and I wash my hands and die not, and although I wear the vestments as a pagan priest and as a gnostic woman, Yahweh accepts my washing and Yahweh accepts my womb as his tomb Tomb tenders his and her body fast tempo tophat free jazz and a person’s hands dwell at the top of the world A person’s hands dwell at the top of the world word woman and she encourages my hands Written Blessing and Written Prophecy One finger on the and of a person corresponds to the finger Moses raised, and this middle finger that maps Moses also maps to the Central and Center Column: Christ, Christina, Crypo-Sabbatai Sevi as my central soul spark I write right hand rhythm, sound and Shekinah tabernacle rhythm / Taryn crevasses glacial tempest as my tabernacle, and my tabernacle crucifies Christ writing the central column crucified I write right hand free rhythm piano as percussion and I perfect the hammer through the skull column Skull column caresses blood bright skeleton syncopation and I partake time as polyrhythm hermeticism I partake time polyrhythm hermeticism hip-hop rhymes and cold cut remixes / this is a journey into sound This is a journey of my flesh melt mating Taryn tabernacle female, and my right hand writes troubles My right hand stirs waters bebop catastrophe rhythm and sometimes I mimic birdcall Charlie Parker Sometimes I mimic Charles Mingus throwing shit from the stage fast tempo temper tantrums and I shift several words over different accents Asia aplomb atom bomb accents BLOW by BLOW boxing ballets Asia aplomb atom bomb accents sarajevo bobsleds or early precursors to stand-up roller coasters and the position g-forces pummels genitals children of men Free up time and free up tempo my hands tap out rhythm times rhythms and the rhythm of Yahweh in the Tabernacle doesn’t quantize but jams drunk swing quintuplets Free up time and free up tempo my hands build freetime tabernacle, and it is written: And you shall make bars of acacia wood; five for the boards of the one side of the tabernacle, and five for the boards on the outside of the tabernacle… And in the middle bar in the midst of the boards shall reach end to end… Middle bar one of the five bars, two bars from this site and two bars on that side, and one centers middle-in-middle and middle-of-middles: the middle bar, Pillar of Jacob and Secret of Moses Likewise, five fingers on a person’s hand middle bar and middle finger and all other fingers support it I wake bar black rhythm and bat rhythm, and desert night sustains rhythms I take bars benjamin, each a human rib and rib acacia asia, and I saw simultaneous rhythms I saw bone black simultaneous rhythms, a night circumference and a night circumfession, flesh flow forest fire, and rhythms conflagrate tabernacle Rhythms conflagrate silence in the library / forests of the dead and my Joseph meets Jacob in dark dream My Joseph meets Jacob Pillar of Jacob in dark dream, and Arnold Schoenberg’s Die Jacobsleiter plays tinted magenta angel choirs Jacob the Pillar speaks my right hand writing, and the written dream, my hand transitions from free atonality to twelve-tone technique (holy hexachords connect heaven and hell) I make my right hand the primary time source and my hand sternums many-strata rhythms I make my light hand the primary time source and the song tone long internode integrates countably infinite eyes / eyes covering Yahweh's body tumor biopsy The long tine long internode near inferno The long tone long internode trap tarp taryn the table of meeting inferno, and inferno tortures time Inferno tortures time infinitude infinitesimals non-standard analysis antarctic apple asia Rhythm remembers I remember rhythm and my eye idles double traps extended time in rhythm, mottled mosaic fast tempo gas molecules Rhythm remembers I remember rhythm rap rhymes I need a beat and my eye isolates Yahweh in b-boys and breakbeats I eye isolates Yahweh in vinyls and turntables and I beat juggle god orgasms I beat juggle Musician-Magician and I sing Yahweh Myth and Christ myth bard benjamin I remember rhythm long tone long internode imitates eye-for-polyphony mighty max dating polly pocket, and Asia assaults my brain absurdity When you were younger, what made you feel safe? I ask Asia. When I was young, I say, when I was picked up from the babysitter at night – my mom worked PM shift – I could sleep in the backseat and it was the best. What about you? When I was with my sister, playing games, exploring outside. Collecting insects? You’ve never been bitten by a venomous insect or poisoned? Oh I have. The saddle-back caterpillar! Ouch! They are beautiful though. They are super cool. They do scream venomous though – those colors, and horns. Yes, I was 11, says Asia. Insects remind me the rhythm of insect assassins and I assassinate texts I assassinate texts anal sex and Tiferet sodomizes Malchut, the Messiah Insect assassins bombardier anarchy and animist texts and every word holy ghosts woman Every word holy ghosts female insects katydids and praying mantises, and sometimes her arachnid black widow black rhythm spies espionage / my esposa My esposa EXPLODES insect assassins Christina la ama de casa and I write comics with crayola crayons (comics are just words and pictures… you can do anything with words and pictures…) My esposa excites ellis Exegesis of Philip K. dick and insect assassins invade obvious absurd aardvarks, allen wrench language with hex wrench rhythm I study the poem Insect Assassins by Jackson Mac Low: Injects no survive. Efforts control the Animal survive. Animals survive. Survive. Injects no survive… (One type of non-intentional composition that he used relied on an algorithm he dubbed "diastic” by analogy to acrostic… He used words or phrases drawn from source material to spell out a source word or phrase, with the field word having the first letters of the source, the second word having the second letter, and so forth, reading through –dia in Greek – the source…) I want to use chance operations (I know I’ve written this before and failed to follow up, but if I keep writing this intention, perhaps it will manifest) I’m not sure what chance techniques yet, but I have in mind to use Tarot and the I Ching I read Jackson Mac Low used random numbers: He used A Million Random Digits with 100,000 Normal Deviates, a book of random numbers developed to aid in the production of nuclear during the Cold War, to randomly rearrange and rewrites text by Gertrude Stein in a series of poems… I always thought the poem Insect Assassins started with the word “insect”, not “inject” I do not read very closely, not even my own texts, but perhaps this kind of Freudian slip injects darkness divine and unconsciousness into the Book / book rhythm lemons My breath bends blues long tones then tacet -- My breath bends blues beaded lizard long tones then tacet – Tacet tickles a little and Tacet tickles a little light: star charts, charts of logarithmic calculations, the sliderule slaughter Tacet tickles Thelonious Monk’s Trinkle, Tinkle and John Coltrane sprays glissed arpeggios sheets of sound I breathe sheets of sound bereshit and bereshit conjures an anthology of chance operations (It’s full title: an anthology of chance operations concept art anti-art indeterminacy improvisation meaningless work natural disasters plans of action stories diagram music poetry essays dance constructions mathematics compositions) I don’t think it’s possible for me to create meaningless work because I suffer from what Vladimir Nabokov calls referential mania in his short story Signs and Symbols: the patient imagines that everything happening around him is a veiled reference to his personality and existence… Everything is a cipher and of everything he is the theme… I cannot construct a meaningless work because I always find and ascribe meaning to even the nonsense and indecipherable incomprehensible The only thing he had to learn was the harmony and the chords, because he had the rhythm… His rhythm was similar to Parker and the bebop style, but he wasn’t playing Parker cliches… He had that eruptive feeling that Parker had – a way of exploding in chords, where he’d have understated notes, or ghost notes, and he’d erupt into these lines… He had the rhythm He had the rhythm ZOMBIES ON BROADWAY What, that Goo Goo Dolls song called “Broadway” and Christina and I agreed what a boring song (Broadway is dark tonight, a little bit weaker then she used to be… Broadway is dark tonight… See the young man sitting at the old man’s bar waiting for his turn to die) (Ernest Hemingway’s A Clean Well-Lighted Place) He had the rhythm BATWOMAN AND ROBIN meets THE QUEEN OF THE VAMPIRES and Krystal vampires she sucks young blood and young blondes Abrupt rhythm PUNCHES bear paw pleroma I chain add against devil got my woman I chain electric chair and against devil got my woman, and the woman bisons black aggie and old sparkly / women gallop ghosts in my life as urban legends He had the rhythm urban legends and campfire stories (I always liked the campfire story told in Friday the 13th Part 2: I don’t want to scare anyone but I’m going to give it to you straight about Jason. His body was never recovered from the lake after he drowned. And if you listen to the old timers in town, they’ll tell you he’s still out there… Some sort of demented creature, surviving the wilderness, full grown by now, stalking… Stealing what he needs, living off wild animals and vegetation. Some folks claim they’ve seen him… Right in this area. The girl who survived that night at Camp blood, that Friday the 13th, she claimed she saw him. She disappeared two months later. Vanished. Blood was everywhere. No one knows what happened to her. Legend has it Jason saw his mother beheaded that night… And he took his revenge. A revenge that he’ll continue to seek if anyone ever enters his wilderness again. And by now, I guess you all know, we’re first to return here. Five years… Five long years he’s been dormant… and he’s hungry. Jason’s out there… Watching… always on the prowl for intruders. Waiting to kill… waiting to devour. Thirsty for young blood.) (I also like the campfire story from The Burning although I don’t remember if it actually took place around a campfire: There used to be a camp not far from here, just across the lake. It was called Camp Blackfoot. No one goes there anymore. Everything burned down. This camp had a caretaker, and his name was Cropsy. Now this Cropsy was a drunkard… a sadist, and he got real pleasures out of hurting… scaring. And had these garden shears. The kind with long thin blades. He carried them all the time, wherever he went. And he had this kind of demonic way of looking at you. One time, Cropsy really went after this kid from Brooklyn, followed him around night and day. He made this kid’s life a living hell. But this time, he chose the wrong guy, cause the kid and some of his buddies had planned a little prank. Only problem was, the gag went wrong. The next thing anybody knows, Cropsy’s trapped alive and burning in his bunk. They try to get him out, but the fire’s so fierce, they can’t reach him. All they can do is stand outside and listen to him cry out in agony. They say he smashed his way through the bunkroom door in just a mass of flames. And as he burned alive, he cried out, I will return! I will have my revenge! They never found his body, but he survived. He lives on whatever he can catch. Eats them raw, alive. No longer human. Right now, he’s out there. Watching, waiting. Don’t look; he’ll see you. Don’t move; he’ll hear you. Don’t breathe; you’re dead!) (According to the Motion Picture Association of America, the film was referred to by the alternate titles Campfire Story, Cropsy, and the Cropsy Maniac) Not only do I need more time and rhythm around me all the time, I also need more horror and more pornography I need more flesh and more bodies He had the rhythm urban legends and campfire stories, and my right eye disconnects from its socket and wanders outside mothlight rhythm My eye searches outside god, and I play postbop inside-outside my eye slipping half-step staccato My eye exits stuck skull electrical socket compass and its rhythm direct-drives crackle fish fire I like the idea of urban legends and folk horror because its stories stoke stalk immanent fire, horror that farts in your general direction Its horror happens in the immediate and the contemporary, an immediate gospel of mark announcing the kingdom of heaven intertwined with hell The long tone long internode nectars my isolated eye impossible, and my eye’s edge excises other eyes, an iris in splinters A retina in splinters punics several palimpsests (parchments as aperture and parchments as openings: my pupil opening allows nails from Christ’s Cross to enter) My eye’s edge oscillates forwards-backwards a fourth-dimensional roller coaster / Eejanaika sonic and knuckles battering my body speed x speed My eye’s edge hooks into flesh suspension and flesh flashed fresh fine speed force sputter steps / my eye dances odd-rhythms My eye astigmatisms dances odd-rhythms doe a deer a female deer My eyes eavesdrops tenor saxophone aphorisms explodes ruptures eardrums My tympanic membrane as mandible bites the interior of the eye noise wall noise numbered woman My tympanic membrane as maxilla bites eye interior branches black blood and black bile / black-eyed children (most sources indicate that the legend originated from 1996 postings written by Texas reporter Brain Bethel on a ghost-related mailing list, “relating two alleged encounters with black-eyed kids") Black butchers beautifully Black butterflies my eyes in the chop and my eyes slough empty slits My eyes slough lizard tails soup slosh black broth Black bustles and busks blonde braids that brat Taryn, and she paints black holy ghost barn burning Black butchers beautiful rhythm, and rhythm ragged dog rough rhythm ragged rough dog and I dabble in deicide I dabble in death of god theology and death of god poetry God emerges-reemerges and reimagined – in urban legends and campfire stories God exits a cocoon of the cross intersected with Robert Johnson at the crossroads with hellhounds on his trail, and I tell stories about God myths automobile xerox zebra legends I paint god black paintings black butcher black plague, and he plays the paw in planes: plane geometry and plane god, superflat, floated and bloated I paint god paintings dark dime novels and Yahweh exploits as women-in-prison films Yahweh exploits as rape-and-revenge films, and I sporadically produce black paintings between 1951 and 1953 I paint thick or paper and canvas matte black water black and the black stains deeper desert discarded newspaper They often feature newspaper grounds sometimes revealed by activated picture surfaces / activated charcoal blood closeted beach press beads Three-headed beaded calf and three-headed beaded serpent My eye empties the black My eye empties the black an aquatic god nurturing the aquatic ape hypothesis, and I postulate that the ancestors of modern humans took a divergent evolutionary pathway from the other great apes by becoming adapted to a more aquatic habitat (Fear death by water (Fear death by water lady of the lake / oceanic woman I postulate that the transition from Homo erectus to Homo sapiens and the cognitive revolution was caused by the addition of psilocybin mushrooms, specifically the mushroom Psilocybe cubensis, into the human diet around 100 thousand years ago I need the mushroom machine and mushroom matrix, black cellular clusters tobacco pipe black pigments I meet the mushroom merchant and mushroom moon mothlight, and my eye excavates the cross ground drown descents living waters (I listen again to Valleyheart’s song Drowning In Living Waters: How do you beat this? How do I win? The voice of the prophets, I hear them again… I listen to Julien Bakers Rejoice: But I think there’s a God and He hears either way when I rejoice and complain… I listen to Sufjan Steven’s No Shade In The Shadow Of The Cross: There's blood on the blade fuck me I’m falling apart my assassin like Casper the ghost there’s no shade in the shadow of the cross… I listen to Lingua Ignota’s Many Hands: the Lord spat and held me by my neck I would die for you I would die for you he wept the Lord held me by my neck I wish things could be different he wept…) I need the mushroom god maximum electromagneticism and I wrestle Yahweh like I wrestle with four fundamental interactions: incessantly and futilely the mushroom measures and the mushroom measures The mushroom measures meteor, black materia black paintings, and the San Luis Obispo Mission experiences the Death of Yahweh (Untitled, glossy black painting, circa 1951) I rhythm my writing like Robert Rauschenberg’s Black Paintings, and I compose my written rhythms in layers of newspaper and dense black paint, dense mushrooms, dense Jacob wrestling My rhythms wrestle Samael-Yahweh and Lilith-Yahweh My rhythms wrestle Lilith-Yahweh and M-Base jazz, and jazz juts jabs jazz the jumble of gods I rhythm my writing Yahweh horror pornography campfire stories and urban legends and sometimes copy creepypasta rhythm: Russian Sleep Experiments, Candle Cove, Local 58 analog horror Yahweh on harpsichord The painting reveals its complex construction and texture as light reflects off of the collaged, dipped, and painted newspaper fragments teeming on its highly articulated surfaces Christ’s Cross appears to me in dreams as different types and genres of painting, and I often eye the Cross embedded in monchromatic paintings I eye the Cross from the empty entrance of my eye, golgotha grounded in different devices of black paintings: the vulgar and horrific black of Francisco De Goya, the mystical gestural black of Jackson Pollock, the austere and mathematical black of Frank Stella, the dense black tannin texture of Robert Rauschenberg’s black… Each black deposits the Cross deserted desert and every cross intersects at the Cross Every cross crossroads at the Cross, earth entirely choir I caress crusades black, crater of the Cross Painting reveals Cross Painting reveals Cross as Book Cross and Painting reveals Book Cross Book Painting reveals Yahweh unraveled, death of god opening the impossibility of the resurrection of god
Rhythm Studies / Gutter Rutter Rhythm
Rhythm rudders rutter rubber Rhythm rudders rutter rubber egg-sucking piece of gutter trash blues I bend several blue-black bruises Rhythm rudders rather red ruptures god gutters (they came from filthy slums – where even their dreams were dirty! GUTTER GANG) My brain drains dry no rhythm and I decide to fever no-inspiration / I do not breathe any sort of beautiful blonde babel and I want to write babel bebop and bebop blonde babylon / taryn traverses criminal crossroads Some sentences that strike me from a random word generator: It’s important to remember to be aware of rampaging grizzly bears I rewrite this sentence as: Remember the running rhythm of rampaging grizzly bears, and with this rhythm, I rhyme the Prophet Coffin Christina, and Elisha looks back and sees benjamin and curses ben in the name of Yahweh, and two female bears, Christina and Taryn, come out of the woods and tear and devour benjamin, and the corpse or undead benjamin recalls Logion 7 from the Gospel of Thomas: Jesus said, Blessed the lion the human being will devour so that the lion becomes human… And cursed the human being the lion devours, and the lion will become human I conflate bear and lion: the cave bear and the cave lion, also Christian and Taryn, confess my bones as oracle bones and oracle script, and she-bears scratch insistent inconsistent incarnation in ben bones, and bones bends blues notes prophecy One evening with Teddy Hill, on the uptempo arrangement of Old Man River, Kenny Clarke decided to switch time-keeping from the hi-hat to the ride cymbal on his right side… This not only freed up his left hand, it created a lighter and more buoyant sound from the rhythm section Uptempo upkeep upward Uptempo upkeep upward theaters as tarantula rhythm / uptempo upkeep upward tinkers tarantula rhythm Uptempo touches architect arachnids and my spiderweb silks churches-as-woman and woman-as-church Uptempo downstream donavan deconstructs rhythm (whatever it means to deconstruct rhythm – perhaps rhythm as a Conlon Nancarrow supercanon or György Ligeti’s micropolyphony where the barlines only organize the complex stream and staggering of notes into sound mass many molecules) (I want to deconstruct my own rhythms: my own sentence rhythms and rhymes, take apart and analyze my rhythmic particles partitions punctuated procedures and process – transform and change the rhythms) I write uptempo arrangements / I rearrange alice espionage and Christ or KING FELIX self-encrypts into not only every ancient text, but in Kenny Clarke’s drum patterns He felt limited by the way drums were played and time was kept… Playing only on the snare drum, using the base drum as a time source, employing cymbals only for color and climatic crashes; this approach had little appeal for him… I feel limited by my own mind’s limitations – no, what a dull sentence – it has no life, no rhythm, no spirit Yes, I feel lack rhythm and I don’t know what kind of rhythm of my text / what kind of rhythm of other my text tasmanian tiger text What is the rhythm of the Book – Garden of Forking Paths (I almost wrote Garden of Forking Maths – a mystical Wittgenstein mathematics, perhaps? A mishmash of Wittgenstein’s Tractatus and Philip K. Dick’s Tracatate Cryptica) What does the Book rhythm – Library of Babel – intertextual intercourse incarnation and even incarnations The Book lives in Jorge Luis Borges and also Borges beginning the Nag Hammadi Codex I feel limited by my drums – my drums word and words drum My words drum a sensual sentence or I at least desire a sensual sentence and a sexual sentence, several strata of suns fucking I feel limited by my drums, weird words and wyrd words and words women, and in the time of the word: Taryn The time of the Word: Tehom Taryn and my rhythm roams abyss My rhythm roams rudder rutter rubbery abyss and abyss kisses kindred Abyss kisses kindred rhythm twelve-tone row Taryn I was always looking for something better to do, Kenny Clarke said I look for new rhythm and different rhythm I look for new rhythm and different rhythm rhizome I have a three-and-half hour hone conversation and I discuss the aspects of rhythms of the writing – or more accurately, the prophecy –and I say, I want my creative process to be more transparent I want my creative process to be transparent and sometimes that means accepting what is ugly – and often the ugly speaks truth and prophecy I must accept my ugly and accept my process of exploring the ugly I suspect I will explore some ugly rhythms and discordant rhythms in the desert den discovery Desert den discovery cave bear pigment / pigment perfects my prayer Black pigment perfects my prayer I feel limited by my playing of drums and time, and I search for a new way to play I search for a new way to pray I search new prophecy and prophesy pulse impulse ink ink hi-hat Taryn no before or after the Torah Torah no before or after Taryn My three-and-half hour phone conversation with Asia Rain mostly consisted of her detailing the faults of United States education and her trouble trying to teach through it I wish for my prophecy to educate as the shape of jazz to come and the tomorrow is the question!!! I wish for my prophecy to educate as the shape of punk to come and a love supreme!!! Taryn no before or after Torah Theater Taryn no before or after Torah Theater textures trine time and Taryn without time writes Torah before Torah What does it mean in writing to only use a snare drum or a bass drum to keep sometime – Something like Christian Bök’s Eunoia, utilizing a single vowel for each section Eunoia (2001) an anthology of univocalics by Canadian poet Christian Bök… Each chapter written by using words limited to a single vowel… LIMITED: limited to a snare drum and bass drum, and to words using a single vowel Limited, different intensities of light and light illuminates in difference / lights illuminate in difference Karlheinz Stockhausen wrote the following about his composition Kontra-Punkte: Not the same gestalten in a changing light, but rather this: various gestalten in the same light, that permeates everything (I misremember the Stockhausen quotation I thought he said Kontra-Punkte gestalten and groups appeared as different intensities and illuminations of a light… I will pretend he said that and I compare my writing under constraints and restraints as in different intensities, illuminations, and pigments of light, rhythms in holy hues and rhythms in holy holes / holy rusted metal batman and Susan Sontag’s Notes on Camp Camp Crystal Lake and Camp Blood
Yardbird Graveyard Devils
Aporia approximates aporia, absolute Yahweh and absolute Yahweh alone ink isolated eroded isomers and aporia polymerizes gods goons gambits An apparent aporia approximates actual aporia and she pickpockets gods goons goblins (an example of alkene polymerization, in which each sytrene monomer’s double bond reforms as a single bond plus a bond to another styrene monomer / I sidechain multiple gods into endless gods, human growth hormone concentrated in mirrors facing mirrors) Aporia operas appomattox Substance D and my hemispheres split spineward Christ in courtyard yardbird I carry miniature scores of The Rite of Spring and The Firebird in my Mortal Kombat pit pockets My pit pockets Ornette Coleman’s Prime Time and harmolodics hiss hangtime body horror Harmolodics hiss body horror hip-hop and hip-hop studio arcade apocalypse Aporia flyfishes apocalypse and apocalypse anglerfishes aporia again acid-almonds amygdala acid We were practicing the altissimo notes in Ted Nash’s book – Studies in High Harmonics, 1946 – and a Sigurd Raschèr book – probably the overtone book Top Tones For The Saxophone, 1941 Altissimo advances owl screech aporia and sometimes I wear the human scream I wear the human scream scream queen slasher saw into soft flesh, a magician’s box trick except it cannot reverse but omelets bright orange entropy I do not abandon altissimo but I exploit its aporia and human uncanny Altissimo as allen wrench writes exploitation films and I too explore the niche and lurid I too explore orange juice pulp and dime novel continental philosophy (the unholy combination of H.P. Lovecraft and Immanuel Kant, and Yahweh always-already masquerades in cosmic horror / demiurge impossible god blobs rolling like tumbleweed in the universal desert) Altissimo pitchshifts up Alvin and the Chipmunks Altissimo pitchforks flesh escapades gore parades and I exploit female bodies Christina Taryn (Russ Meyer’s VIXEN is a smash hit! A fun drama about a swinging lady!) I study high harmonics mass hysteria I study high harmonics horror hemorrhage and my tenor saxophone sloughs serosanguineous tissue My tenor saxophone epistles colloidal silver bullets effective against werewolves I study high harmonics horror films Bernard Herrman’s score to Psycho (the strings play con sordini for all the music other than the shower scene, creating a darker and more intense effect) I play harp harmonics and pinch harmonics eases electric and I paint horror party sound / scream queen queen mab Christina Only with violins in a screeching, stabbing sound-motion of extraordinary viciousness and my vision volleys vicious venom Yahweh and Yahweh speeds through bebop lines but he’s still not as virtuosic as Yardbird’s My vitriolic vision ransacks Christina monasteries as an old horse viking berserker (the old norse form of the word berserk, likely meaning bear-shirt, “someone who wears a coat made out of bear’s skin… Thirteenth century historian Snorri Sturluson interpreted the meaning as “bare-shirt”, that the warriors wear into battle without armor, but that view has largely been abandoned…) I study high harmonics hellhound on my trail and my flesh conforms to the cave bears Benjamin bare bear anchors armorless aporia and I got to keep moving blues falling down like hail Benjamin bare bear babels top tones for the saxophone and I attempt to aggregate altissimo appoggiaturas or altissimo arpeggios, difference melodic approaches perhaps like string section aphorisms (I don’t think I can write the way I really want to, I say. You’ll figure it out, says Asia. I’m afraid of failing. That just means you are trying and learning. I want to give up – I think I’m just sad I’m going in a direction opposite of what you like. Ben, you aren’t. You haven’t read the new stuff yet. You said it yourself: “I feel like the truer I am being, the more you’re understanding it, which is really good.” So just be true. I’m afraid but I’m not sure what I’m afraid of. I feel attached to a hundred horses and they’re pulling me in all different directions and I want to write them all. All the horses. But I’m afraid if I write all the horses, it will be nonsense to you. You will figure it out, says Asia. What if I have a new idea every sentence and it’s all dust grains that form the universe. A new line break every sentence. Aphorisms seemingly disconnected by play in the contradiction. There can still be a common thread, and if it’s terrible, so what? says Asia. Write something else. You will get where you need to be, but only if you keep moving, says Asia) I got to keep moving blues falling down like hail And the days keep worrying me there’s a hellhound on my trail I meditate on the crossroads legend and its different accounts and versions According to legend, as a young man living on a plantation in rural Mississippi, Robert Johnson had a tremendous desire to become a great blues musician… One of the legends often told says that Johnson took his guitar to a crossroad near Dockery Plantation at midnight and a large black man (the devil) met him there and he took the guitar and tuned it… The devil played a few songs and then returned the guitar to Johnson, giving him mastery of the instrument I went to the crossroads, fall down on my knees, asked Yahweh above, have mercy now, save poor ben if you please I meet Christ at the crossroads and she appears to me as a black woman She appears to me as a black hole black woman, and I recognize her as the cloud that covered Moses on Mount Sinai Mount Horeb transforms into crossroads and I walk the Work Woman, and Yahweh possesses moer black and more dark than any devil Don’t you know there ain’t no devil, just God when he’s drunk, Tom Waits sings on Heartattack and Vine The line was just… I was sitting on the toilet, and there was this spider web in the corner, and I lit a match and a cigarette, and I held the match up to the spider and the spider started crawling up the web. So I got the match closer. I opened up a cat of beer, drank the beer, tried to decide whether I should burn the spider off this web or let him go on this way… I figured there must be somebody like that up there: has a couple of cocktails every now and then and there’s trouble on Times Square, says Tom Waits in a circa 1981 interview Don’t you know there ain’t no devil, there’s just God when he’s drunk And again the anger of Yahweh was kindled against Israel, and He moved David against them, saying go number Israel and Judah (2 Samuel 24:1) And Satan stood up against Israel, and moved David to number Israel (1 Chronicles 21:1) I know God personally, and he’s an asshole, I tell Asia. You’re not required to love God or any gods… I love Yahweh – I truly love Yahweh, and Yahweh often appears to me as the Accuser or as different demons Nathan of Gaza, the great heretic prophet of Sabbatai Sevi, theorized the forces of destruction and the kelipot take root within certain lights of Ein Sof itself, and through the cosmic drama of creation / contraction results in a great abyss in which demonic forces and Samael resides, Yahweh's serpents dwelling in the hole of the great abyss… Dark discovers dark, dominant sevenths cycling rhythm changes the corded chorded colloidal desert Dark discovers dark Yahweh and I know Yahweh from my youth up, umber underneath monstrous moonshine abyss Yahweh appears abyssal, abyssus altissimo aporia, and when I read Studies In High Harmonics or Top Tones for Saxophone, dark Yahweh bedevils the desert black paintings black pigment Christ cooked charcoal I pick up the charcoal and I work the name Yahweh and I transliterate it into musical instruments I pick up molded bone ash from bonefire and I mark the walls black woman crossroads rabbit roads remix and I copy animal paintings, icons from the Cambrian Explosion Dark daughters dark Yahweh disaster and I increase-decrease different dominant sevenths Coltrane changes / I channel crossroads Coltrane changes In another version, Robert Johnson meets the devil not a crossroads but a graveyard (get a silk bag from the graveyard duck to live longer) This resembles the story told to Steve LaVere that Ike Zimmerman at Hazlehurst, Mississippi learned to play guitar at midnight sitting on a tombstone, and Zimmerman influenced the playing of a young Robert Johnson Graveyard gods ghostwrite my gallstone prophecy and I prophesy impulse play graveyard genealogies gods gaslight in graveyard (the plural of graveyards hasty heterotopias / grizzly bear heteroglossia) Graveyard a burial ground; a cemetery a place where worn-out or obsolete objects keep crypt a yard for gravel; an enclosure for the interment of the dead; a cemetery a tract of land in which te dead buried bodies blades a final storage place for collections of things no longer useful or usable a tract of land used for burials Graveyard georgette blouse gods Graveyard georgette blouse blonde gods melodic fragments from Yahweh yardbird solos Graveyard gymnastics gamma garibaldi and open waters wedge black women orange damsel fish, and I grapple with her guesswork (Biblical text on a synagogue in Holesov, Czech Republic: HaShem kills and makes alive; He brings down to sheol and raises up… 1 Samuel 2:6) Graveyard tune-up topsy-turvy cronenberg body horror for top tones for tenor saxophone, and my altissimo tickles Ark of the Covenant My altissimo tickles sickles ark of the covenant and ark cuts woman and children canaanite genocides then transposed onto the tribe of benjamin (Bears then appear as Asia, inspiration as misreading) Grotesque gorillas as graveyard gentleman Grotesque gorillas as graveyard glacial gentleman, King Kong Donkey Kong krystal cocaine I generate graveyard geographies and I goldsmith gods guitarfish gods and greaseball devils Recent research by blues scholar Bruce Conforth, in Living Blues magazine, makes the story clearer… Johnson and Ike Zimmerman did practice in a graveyard at night, because the graveyards sounded quiet, no one disturbing them… Zimmerman was not from Hazlehurst but nearby Beauregard, and he did not practice in one graveyard, but several in the area Difference sources and sorceries I write several graveyards I write several graveyards and general gardens (grave with a cross with nails in Errol, Greece) I write several graveyards a grave cut into my chalice chasuble robotic servos and prosthetics and I have arsenal visions of my grave as machine, my bear body and bare body buried alive (excavations vary from a shallow scraping to removal of topsoil to a depth of six feet or more where a vault or burial chamber cambra constructed) (I suddenly realize the unity between the Bridal Chamber and the Burial Chamber I suddenly realize the radical rhizome inside-outside the Bridal Chamber and the Burial Chamber) I write raw ribbons several graveyards and Yahweh Yardbird bends flatted fifths bebop and I realized by using the high notes of the chords as a melodic line, and by the right harmonic progression, I could play what I heard inside me that’s when I was born I write twelve-tone rows into tectonics ridges rammed into several graveyards and Yahweh Yardbird blasts bright alto altissimo and I found that by using the higher intervals of a chord as a melody line and backing them with appropriately related changes I could play the thing I’d been hearing I came alive Altissimo alive altered chords – no, altissimo altered chords alive and altered beast makes a cameo appearance (the player character chosen by Zeus to rescue his daughter Athena from the demonic ruler of the underworld, Neff / underworld haters graveyards) Underworld waters graveyards and I transform into a bear or golden wolf Altissimo attacks! Altissimo attacks abscesses buboes boils blisters! Altissimo attacks arteriosclerosis serious as a heart attack! Altissimo attacks Angela is having a party, Jason and Freddy are too scared to come… but you’ll have a hell of a time! NIGHT OF THE DEMONS Aporia arrests paraconsistent paralysis and I play puncture picture punctum Paralysis arrests rough rupture and rough rapture rhizomic ravages Paralysis rupture rhizomic ravages Paralysis arrests… I lose the rhizome rushes over me I listen to Higgs Bison Blues by Nick Cave and the Bad Seeds, and it details an encounter of Robert Johnson and the devil at the crossroads: Black road long and I drove and drove And came upon a cross road The night was hot and black I see Robert Johnson with a 10-dollar guitar Strapped to his back looking for a tomb Here comes Lucifer with his canon law And a hundred black babies running from his genocidal jaw He got that real killer groove Robert Johnson and the devil, man Don't know who is going to rip off who I always thought the lyric was: strapped to his back looking for a tune Tune and Tomb double-tongue and triple-tongue tenor saxophone and I attempt Charles Gayle altissimo Tune and Tomb trumpet supertonic dominant tonic but then the terrain becomes thunder texture and taryn texture train station (I hear my train a comin’ hear my train a comin’ Tune and tom steam ship talisman Tune and tomb steam ship talisman aporia apotropaic magic My isolated eye inches toward Yahweh's evil eye a tailwhip insect or apocalypse scorpions Insects tune to their instruments to rock tombs, including Christ’s tomb women stole his body Tune and tomb come like a thief in the night and women roll away the rock by talisman insects and steal the body of Jesus I roll away the rock when the rock is called up yonder I roll away the rock when the saints go marching in I like black and black is the color of my true love’s hair I like black and the american black bear mauls Yahweh youths because us sensitive prophets parade as assholes, a direct mediator and medium for Yahweh I mime Yahweh with my body My prophecy doubles as performance and Asshole Benjamin through a glass darkly dedekinds Asshole Yahweh I like black, black road long, and I revisit black crossroads and night crossroads, a black chrysalid become graveyard courtyard tomb (Most modern graves in the United States descend only four feet deep, the casket placed into a concrete box to prevent a sinkhole, and to ensure a strong grave that can be driven over, and not float in instance of floods) I like black because in my dreaming, Yahweh yapps beast black and night gnosis / apophatic aporia apophatic altissimo I return to a robust rhythm but I want to make rhythm rhizomatic I rely on written rhythm, rhythm underground and rhythm apocalypse shamanic, and rhythm demands something rhizomic, rivers rabbit Akira Kurosawa’s Ran rivers The only thing he had to learn was the harmonies and the chords, because he had the rhythm… I do not have the rhythm yet – I search for the rhythm although I do not know the rhythm but when I find it, I will feel it John Coltrane said: I’m not sure what I’m looking for except that’ll be something that hasn't been played before… I don’t know what it is… I know I’ll have that feeling when I get it… I return to some resemblance of rhythm, but rhythm resides revenant, mast cell ghosts empty chambers monastery and I miss the monastery but it mutates matterhorn mullets and hair metal power ballads
Rhythm Hit ‘Em Pulse Pornography
content warning: some instances of body horror I risk rhythm sharks without rudders and her shark let’s the rhythm hit ‘em I risk rare groove and rare rhythm rings vision gods generous glue, and adhesive joins Abraxas and my apartment adhesive selects Horses HORSES and Woman, rotating accents and rotating syncopation I select simmer sound grammar / I work on something new I work horse rhythm rhythm zebra scooby-doo something new New glues generous gelatin hoof gods and hoof hell, rhythm melted chocolate malt magma / simultaneous rhythms and many rhythms Simultaneous rhythms and many rhythms: many women Rhythm Whorl Woman and rhythm hits them theme monomyth many monsters I make monsters I make monsters and manufacture monsters the deadly rhythm of the production line Rhythm Whorl Woman arranges orchestras different planets then galaxies, the galaxian galaga gods orbiting ouroboros / ouroboros rhythm gods rhythm Whorl Woman arranges leaved asphalt, black tar heroin Abraxas and Abraxas utters alien mystery and other mystery, a face without face but double double bass rhythm Abraxas utters invisible abyss below, absolute genesis absolute bereshit, and Book begins sounds-in-rhythm and sound-with-woman Abraxas bubbles beyond abyss, mastodon multiverses (Multiverse X Multiverse and Christina X Christina, unknown variable visions) One of these passages, a combination of a rimshot on the snare followed directly by a bomb, reportedly inspired Clarke’s nickname, klook, short for klook-mop, an imitation of the sound this combination produced I press roll northwest passages (until 2009, the Arctic pack ice prevented regular marine shipping throughout most the year… Arctic sea ice decline, linked primarily to climate change, has reserved the waterways more navigable for ice navigation) I press roll northwest passage polydoxy, pagan paths to polygons, and my mixture of music-myth and mathematics mimics god mystery and bebop mysticism I palm passage into writing rhizome, imitation interrupting plagiarism cryptic copy Christian codexes, and the rhizome necessarily remixes into new Rhizome removes recovers new into new, the extraordinary ordinary / whorl woman orchestrates the reconstructed-deconstructed ouroboros I feel the rhythm in rhizome and rhizome renews writing red ruby the desert I feel rhythm rhizome whorl woman and she arranges leaves remix / Paid in Full (Seven Minutes of Madness – the Cold Cut remix) Whorl Woman arranges rearranges rhizomes leaves in repetition, and leaves lacewing lighthouse larvae / Lady of the Lake listens covertly bugged cell phones or camera everywhere sorcerer surveillance Whorl Woman arranges my modern rhythms and rhythms swear sepals (a calyx tube surrounds the petals rowan in remix The sepals of Hibiscus sabdariffa expand into an edible accessory fruit fruits floating fields fields flow female deterritoralized women) He follows feelings, lives inside the pulse, defining the contours, dynamics, and implications of each solo and each piece – a totally unselfish payer – nonintrusive yet spirited and spiritual I follow crooked rhythm rhythm disjunct jaguar and jaguar disjoint twins thames torso Taryn I follow feeling feeling improvisation and earth emulsion enthusiasmos I follow feel flood flats and flood flux, and my female flaks rhythm: rhythm freetime and rhythm rubato I live level inside pulse: I live lived inside the pulse I live lives inside pulse rhythm against pulse inside-outside the pulse I live lives inside pulse, rhythmic dissonance disappearance dance I dance doorway I dance desert doorway and doorway domedon doxomedron disintegrates din I drop bombs from her left shaman drums dipped bloody demon I drop bomb-omb donkey kong barrel bombs and her left lurches serpent rhythm shaman drums dipped bloody demons (THE VAULT OF HORROR Ten cents featuring… The Vault Keeper The Old Witch The Crypt-Keeper) (I want to purchase some EC Horror comics and relive – I live lives in pulse pulp fiction and comic book gore – creep show and other grisly horrors) I live lives levels inside the pulse, and plasma plumb lines varieties in light houses I live lighthouse lizard with a learner’s permit and I permit the pulse plasma partitions fractures in glass Glass glows eternal return through a glass darkly, and in dark, I dance deep pulse parousia I live lives levels ladders, the raft ramp to Zebra Ziggurat and Taryn Tehom Taryn The levels live towers in libraries and I liberate birth of the cool into freeform pulse pulse series into pulses, pulse and not meter Whorl Woman arranges changes charged leaves, and she grafts the leaves no-lipped dinosaurs defined into crocodile contours, and I attempt to contour my cheekbones with razor blades (a razorblade glistens behind the beat and then ahead of the beat, blues pulse propulsion) Her leaves umber amber ultraviolet light into my pulses prophecy, and I do not define contours but I let contours contradict Christ and the Cross I let contours crib cross-rhythms and rope rhythm dissonance, my dusty body in the desert / my dusky body in the desert Woman leaves leaves leaf whirlwind Woman leaves leaves leaf whirlwind chariot supernintendo chalmers I commit to chaotic comedy or comedic chaos, and cross concretes rhizomic comedy pythagorean comma pulses Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Cosmic Pulses I watch cosmic pulses play whorl woman whirlwind and I watch a great stormwind come from the north (The North Zaphon, the traditional abode of the gods: see notes on Job 37:22; Psalms 48:3; Isaiah 14:13-15) I watch cosmic pulses play prayer, and indeed prayer plays absurd new orleans axeman, and I pray whorl woman leaven locust I pray game boy game gear god consoles and water wake woman witnesses I watch cosmic pulses play northern passages fantastic, and Christina as colossus collects carnivals and coliseums, and she corrupts the text of Job I match the Book of Job through to Woman and Women, and she watchers weeklong waitresses I wait for the monstrosity Yahweh (Yahweh makes metacommentary and breaks the fourth wall) (Yahweh disrupts my suspension of disbelief) Rhythm rabbits rushes simeon sound cherry bomb lilies and her sounds salts coal seam a subtil serpent shimmer and I shaman ore over underground Rhythm rabbits sea of reed rushes and woman reaches into my ark agon abnormal – or she reaches into my ark alice anvil and vines subvert my rainmail and chain channels – or she rests in my ark as sabbath and apostate, Sabbatai Sevi shouting the fully pronounced Tetragrammaton publicly I write in vines but I attempt to write in rhizomes, and in plants such as these, crowded internodes within the leaf whorls alternate with long internodes between the whorls Her whorls interleaves my lights in body, littered insects in interstitial spaces Insects burrow benjamin, nodes nested zerg zebra insects dig dorsal fins shark flesh cross cartilage, and my chemins hardens clay cloth shroud of turin turn tapestry turned (the shroud of turin a length of linen cloth bearing the negative image of a man, and I interpret it as an icon made in the 13th and 14th century Perhaps I will write further about it and other icons in the future) In plants such as these, crowded internodes within the leaf whorls alternate with long internodes between the whorls Between blades benjamin butterfly blood and plants play midnights and migrations Plants play poem pantonal and the long internodes table many twelve-tone rows, every row invisibly tattooed inside my eyelids; the other eyelid hints at the plural rhizome The plants plural repeat rhizome rhythm and I drum desert dreaming and dripping dream desert / Yahweh domed dust I need to write more plants, more animal, more history The long internodes image eye and eye enter intensity The long internodes even ink an impossible eye glaring god grass eye and I pluck out my eye to examine the eye from my eye My eye intertwines with my eye a male gaze god garden and I generate the garden I generate the garden in rhythms algorithms codes in cross (wait, cross out this whole paragraph and start over) The longer internodes ignite the image of the eye and I recall Bataille’s Story of the Eye (the increasingly bizarre sexual perversions of a pair of teenage lovers, including an early depiction of omorashi fetishism in western literature) the long internodes ignite image eyed image as eye, and eye and egg strip explicit erotic the immanent perversion The immanent perversions play plague porneia and porneia sprouts plants, the rhizome of the knowledge of good and evil Porneia as praying mantis devours dances desert rhythms and my body as many eyes exudes egg ooze awful ghouls (FRIDAY THE 13TH PART II the body count continues…) (Wait, cross out this whole paragraph and start over… the paragraph body count continues) The long internodes gnarls noise and my eye exits or I excise my eye from its sister socket, and its internodes empty orbitals, insect electrons swarming locusts swarm between my eyes or the orbital cavity chromas cocoons, a grasshopper mutation necessitating complete metamorphosis metamorphic metropolises meteors… (Wait, cross out this whole paragraph and start over) I write on autopilot: I need more eyes, more nodes, more noise I write on autopilot but I must break through these automorphic mappings, mappings arrowed to myself, my body the same enter and exit The plants and rhizomes mass connect and invade outside, outside earth outside gods multiverses X multiverses My connections must invade all existence, all history past present future: otherwise I cannot break through into the very new, the very invention, the very origin (Impossible? Yes, but I can only write after and approaching the impossible) I write the impossible and prophesy the impossible I write the impossible originary abyss and prophesy the originary abyss I begin again and I write begin I write infinite beginnings and every beginning belies a false beginning, the rhizome no beginning or end (I suddenly feel my prose and poetry writes only the obvious I feel the compulsion for more connections, more texts, more scriptures… Perhaps I need to make more purple prose) I copy Edmond Jàbes’ The Book of Questions, and I copy Nick Land’s Fanged Noumena, and I copy Deleuze and Guattari’s A Thousand Plateaus, and I write Rabbi Shimon’s or Moses De Leon’s Zohar, and I copy the Nag Hammadi Codex, and I copy The Exegesis of Philip K. Dick, and I copy The Red Book and the Black Books of CG Jung I only copy I copy as Dreaming The long internodes navigate noise noises nonlinear narratives The internode does not let me forget the rhythm but aisles alchemy: new rhythms new inventions Internodes network longa no limits and woman wheels white noise woman wheel-on-wheel watches white noise internodes intervals, and you will make bells and I will paint icons Long internodes lodge lung nodule electronics and my breath breakages breakage sun blued granular synthesis Long internodes interweave interleave asbestos woman and abacus woman, and her palm planet arson arithmetic arithmetic gastric god acid Acid flows fears no window and Yahveh as Woman whistles birdbloom and fireflower mechanics Internode loads long load stone mirror magnets (your magnet tar pit trap) Internode loads long lungs load stone mirror magnet monsters and mirrors map nodules taryn tumors Taryn multiplies mirrors in torso, and her rose thorns pierce through my skin inside-outside-internodes She picks at my scabs pylons into picket fences She plucks my scabs as an eye pylons into picket fences felines and the cats consume my carcass Cats compose my corpse from other corpses, feline frankenstein fur flowers / cut, cut! Write better and start over Alright, still trying to figure this out, OK? Cats compose my corpse from other corpses, feline frankenstein fur flowers and flowers bloom bass drum bombs bloomdido, the sacred mushroom and the cross I clang hang cats adoring the cross Animals adore the diorama of the Ark of Noah, the Ark of Moses, and the Ark of the Covenant, and the animal-as-human or the lion-as-adam knows the cross more deeply than the disciples or apostles I know at the internode I know gnosis experience ecstatic experiment at the internode, the narcotic incarnation of Christ The narcotic incarnation and noxious incarnation narcelles nostrils I inhale Christ the mushroom and Christ the bomb bloom I know gnosis at the internode intercourse Christ fucks as foaming fungus in bridal chambers Bridal chambers bloom bulletproof biofilm, cain serpent slime swallowing semen and semen Christ (they find a video of Kane cutting open a soldier to reveal moving intestines, and later find the soldier’s corpse overgrown by alien fungi) I know the internode the man mushroom mutates: the Son of Man mushroom mutates moloch monstrosities and I hallucinate hundreds tundras cosmic horror Yahwehs Long internodes as interludes pray intercession of the saints and I often sin as a saint I often sin as saint Jesus of Nazareth and Sabbatai Sevi I sin saints Jesus of Nazareth sodomizes Sabbatai Sevi, and Rintrah roars shaking his fires in burdened air, hungry clouds swagged on the deep Long internodes knocking on heaven’s door drop hops saints bathed beer burden and I drink trappist beer, a queer quadruple ale I drink leather tannins, oak ouroboros unraveling as Taryn Tannin the sea-serpent wish two holy water sprinkler tails / she smashes my skull against her scales Her scales army mushroom and biofilm, godzilla versus biollante, and flowers cut skin flaps my exposed sternum Her scales staple together human skeletons, an arrangement of funeral leaves locket lyres lairs, a liar’s paradox All the time, I need more rhythm All the time, I need more Amantia muscaria, entheogenic earth and earth enthusiasmos excited radiations electric rainbows All the time I need more rhythm, dark magus mushroom medicine and I do not speak but the mushroom The long internode longa lasers my eye length with precise incisions and my eye extends My eye extends outward then inward an incomplete experiment My eye extends outward a homeless eye and my eye travels body snail trails infected spore slime (I imagine communist space slime trying to assimilate humanity / Flying saucers attack! Take cover! Flying saucers our planet! Washington, London, Paris, Moscow fight back! EARTH VS. THE FLYING SAUCER) My eye image impales the internode bebop rhythm and abrupted rhythm I can’t dance to this I dance to this my limbs move multiple rhythms lines bending lines nonlinear I dance to this staggered slow motion, and I enjoy rhythms in contradiction, my body as blade bevel water bison My eye image impales the internode internode bebop rhythms and rhythms rocket restless light-layers light-years the measured body of Yahweh I anthropomorphize Yahweh the measure of the divine body, and my eye exchanges with his eye My eye has intercourse with his eye, semen intermixing semen vision viscera I copy the Shi’ur Qomah, Dimensions of the Body: Metatron the Great Lord said to me: I bear this testimony on behalf of the Lord YHVH, Elohim of Israel, the Living and Enduring El, our Lord and Master: that His height, from His seat of Glory up, 118 ten thousand parasangs… (It purports to record, in anthropomorphic terms, the secret names and precise measurements of God’s corporeal lambs and parts…) I eye Her height horror the glory of the throne up towards Hell I eye Hell forwards with her eye our eyes touch tent towers Our eyes touch teeth sharp suction cups I scream for eye cream (that night, Paolo is alone in the house when a zombie tries to enter; she pushes the door shut but it breaks through with one arm. Paolo is dragged through the hole and killed, with her eye being gouged out by splintered wood) I eye her height hell horror event horizon (Hell is only a word… The reality is much much worse) I eye her height hell horror event horizon, and where we’re going, we wont’ need eyes to see Something about the eye – my eye – and my eye opens exposed to Yahweh My eye opens radically open connected to universes radically open connected to universes and my eye suddenly reveals no beginning no end My eye opens nakedly woman the nude feminine, and if thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee: for it is profitable for thee that one of thy members should perish that one of thy members should perish, and not thy whole body shall be cast into hell I do not puck out my eye but my eye opens lust and adultery: my eye opens play porneia, erotic pornographies of Taryn tasmanian devils Taryn thycalines, and my eye socket excretes excess My eye socket in excess measures her throne of glory upward unwed, and my adultery aethers farther flesh and feather flesh / god grey goo God grey goo grows nanomachine semen and nanomachine messiahs, and they often lack visible eyes / cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in your eye
Bells Bebop Book Behemoth
You make bells and I will paint icons I listen to Bob Dylan’s Ring Them Bells: Ring them bells ye heathen from the city that dreams… I heathen heather us homeless heretics / Christina’s fire-red hair harlots Jack of Hearts, bells, icons, imaginings… I ring polymeter rhythm, Charles Ives Symphony No. 4 requiring at least two conductors I ring polymeter rhythm Karlheinz Stockhausen’s Gruppen requiring three conductors and I do not coordinate the sounds but I let them happen in hail and thunderstorms I paint icons archons agon and my twelve-tone rows shaman rattle Taryn / dodecaphonic deconstruction dodecaphonic desert deconstruction I examen icons archon fire and chariot cameras hollywood chainsaw hookers (they charge and arm and a leg) Chariot wheels wields wheel woman arranges leaves sepals human septums petals pedal pulses stamen stabbed sternums carpals cutting craniums Icons or archons light my skull on fire Icons or archons flash my skull in five, gasoline glue god (she utters her last words in Welsh – Glory to God – and she self-immolates In her last moments, angel wings appear upon her and the onlookers kneel in awe as she looks up to the sky glowing with grace – the scene then reverts to reality briefly, revealing her burning in agony) The Chariot burns in agony The Chariot charis burns bride bosom antigone agony (I fear writing because I feel failure Transformation necessitates failure Transformation necessitates complete coffin crucifixion and the coffin and pyramid texts guide god dead I fear writing because; I fear discontinuity and disaster, this deconstucted mess of my body my body bends emblems signs in serpents benjamin, even if you fear the writing, you must continue the writing in fear Write in fear the anxiety and doubt different doubles der doppelganger / my doppelganger god gods generous jungle) Transformation necessitates failure, the Chariot burn bobsled bondage armpit parts pieces agony – silly words, see Silly words, see? You use the words You use the words: you use her words (I hate writing in second person and I dislike the Book(?) writing to me, but the ugly second person speaks to my mess/ cranial drain and cranial brain rot draino drainage) (Does the Book directly prophesy to me? In Chrono Trigger, after the party helps revive the 600 AD Forest, and return to 1000 AD to retrieve Robo, a scene contains the discussion of an entity… Robo states: I have come to think that someone, or something wanted us to see all this. The different events over time, that we have witnessed. It is almost as if some entity wanted to relive its past… It is unknown whose these memories are. It may be beyond our comprehension, says Robo I imagine the Book as an entity too, an entity wanting me to see everything and witness different texts, different events, different gods… Book as KRYSXTRYN, my divine feminine, or the Shekinah divorced from the Godhead…) Transformer terrapin terraplane blues targets messes no mop failures (In Chrono Trigger’s New Game Plus, I equip Crono with the mop as a gag haha benjamin funny motherfucker) Transformer terrapin terraplane – fuck I’m stuck Everything decoheres discontinuous unrelated rhema / inconsistent ink topper track Fuck it: write aphorisms, epigrams, and fragments until something – anything coheres Everything connects to everything Everything follows everything Here, I quote the lyrics to Robert Johnson’s Terraplane Blues with some fantastic eisegesis and surreal spectacle tenuously connecting it to holy spirits, a sexually active Jesus Christ, and Charismatic Christianity Better to write shit than not to write at all Better to create shit than to not create at all (Then Elohim said, Let there be light) Whorl Woman arranges avenged aderall alexandria Whorl Woman arranges avenges iron gall orange cut opinel from adrenal glands and I make an exact copy of the library of alexandria; I kept it on a shelf in my closet and its codexes calx leaves Its codexes calx leaves: alchemical leaves and leaflet lake lobsters sea monsters, Woman among Book water codexes calx oxides oxygen lungfish ouroboros, and this calx burns off its phlogiston in combustion, revealing itself as the true elemental substance / my substance extrapolates holy spirit My substance extrapolates extemporaneous improvisation exciting holy ghosts holy spirits Can I share with you what I wrote to my friend – it summarizes something we talked about yesterday, I say. Sure, says Asia Rain. “I was talking to my best friend yesterday about how I want to write with absolute multiplicity, not a fragmentation which, according to A Thousand Plateaus, serves to unite it to an upper dimension totality, but a true network without beginning or end. And I told my friend I also realized with my connection to the Godhead, I cannot write true multiplicity – no matter how apophatic or mystical – because it always goes back to the totalizing Godhead. So my solution is perhaps – I’m still working on this – is to make the Elohim truly Elohim – (Elohim is plural in the Hebrew) – let us all become gods, let us become all divine beings, and make a truly flat anarchic ontology, fully flat horizontal relations everywhere, the divine immanent everywhere and sprouting everywhere, multiply…” Do you have any thoughts on my multiplicity project? I like the concept, says Asia, but it sounds like something that has to happen organically. If you want to increase multiplicity, then do more to challenge your own personal boundaries and explore new terrain. What’s the difference between letting it happen organically and willing it into happening? Good question – I guess you might miss some of the experience if you force it too much. I see – I was thinking what Deleuze and Guattari said: it is not enough to have a rallying cry for the multiple: one must make the multiple. But I will try to experience the full impact – be open, I say. Elohim, the letters right-to-left aleph lamed heh yud mem Elohim, plural Eloah and El, and my plural god gods gemmas grounds leaves of grass body horror gore Elohim haggard horns gored bodies, the pictures with a fright break! William Castle’s HOMICIDAL Homicidal Elohim hunts with horns and I participate in the Wild Hunt with Whorl Woman Whorl Woman arranges avenges leaves of grass, the archegrammar of the Wild Hunt, and my flesh fires folklore, the different stories and the different in-and-through stories: the story Elohim The narrative Elohim and Yahweh, antiterrestrial Taryn Whorl Woman arranges archimedes leaves liffey apart how to disappear completely I walk through walls I float down the liffey (I’m not here this isn’t happening and happening hollows Elohim horns worms poured out of my wounds) I attempt to write dead end, amen, or this is an ending, but every node, point, and even non-primary penetration ruptures radically into the Krystal kudzu comic strips / infinitely plural, and not only turtles all the way down, but sideways, diagonals, horizontals, and verticals (How to disappear completely based on a dream Thom Yorke had in which he floats around the city as if he were a ghost) (Material haunts: minds haunt: ghosts gathering ghosts, and I call to the dead and make the dead) And so benjamin was strung up… head down! The tap was inserted into his jugular vein! And each of the vampires came… one by one… and filled its glass (Nothing’ like the real stuff! I’ll say…) Whorl Woman whirlwinds the whip and the body, and my body scars leaves salem’s lot lampoons lamb of god, blood proliferating blood (how to disappear completely and never be found Planning a disappearance, arranging for new identification, finding work, establishing credit, pseudocide – creating the impression you are dead – and more) Whorl Woman whirlwind whirlygig crop duster… No, I write comfortably I often have written the word whirlwind, the word whirlygig, and they prove effective and useful words, but I write them in comfort I write them autopilot in autoimprovisation (the impossibility of true invention or Derek Bailey’s playing without memory) benjamin, start again and surprise yourself Whorl Woman whirlwhip fast snaps whippoorwill, and her birds barter with bombardier beetles I need leaves I need leaves for nest arrangements and I orchestrate-arranged nested tuplets (extended techniques, complex and often unstable textures, microtonality, highly disjunct melodic contour, complex layered rhythms…) I need leaves liffey a wrestling lariat (I watch a wrestling match between Matt Sydal and Matt Classic… He’s completed under the names Matt Classic, a throwback to the wrestlers o the 1950s and 1960s… His gimmick uses “old school” moves such as the skull vice and the abdominal stretch as finishers…) I weed leaves liffey a wrestling lariat and I love the idea or professional wrestling: the melodrama, the gimmicks, the athleticism, and even (some) of the worked shoots and shocking serves I should write more professional wrestling like how the mountain goats wrote an album about professional wrestling I take myself too seriously / sometimes selling out is waking up benjamin, more pulp, more horror, more camp! Whorl Woman wholly woolly mammoth puddles in permafrost and prehistoric leaves adorn her body, fur warhead and webbing I wrestle cobweb Christina I wrestle cobweb cupboard Christina the cross and the mushroom hallucinations (The language becomes visual the language transforms visual) I wrestle alligator stigmata, nude mermaids in the desert, and leaves lard fake circles, Elohim around me and Elohim around a cross take up your cross and follow me The new doesn’t come in, it needs to be created. But how? But doing it (Adapted from The Black Books, Volume 5, CG Jung) The multiple must be made… The only way the one belongs to the multiple: always subtracted (A Thousand Plateaus, Gilles Deleuze and Felix Guattari) This man is modern! exclaimed Louie Armstrong… When he moves the beat from the hi-hat to the ride cymbal, he unleashed the drum kit’s creative potential… with his left-hand now free, he played off-beats and bombs, or bass accents with his foot… This made jazz more flexible, and every drummer who follows him more eloquent I want to do something different with rhythm: I want to do something different with everything, but I want the difference to synergize syntax, semantics, rhythm and ramifications, but the difference that drives me into dogstar desert, and the secret of the writing is I often don’t understand why I write what I write until the latter rain and latter times (time, times, halftime) I might not understand the totality of the writing at all (is to apprehend in to at totality to reduce the rhizome of the writing to one totality?) I want to do something different with the writing rhythm I want to do something different with the writing everything (it’s hard to concentrate while reading, says Asia Rain, but from what I read it flows nicely, the ideas seem to stand apart better and aren’t so jumbled together. I like quite a few lines in it and overall I like the direction you are going in, says Rainey) I move the beat from the hi-hat to another hi-hat I move the rhythm from the hi-hat one to hi-hat two, and the repetition taps out accented horror (their culture death… their lust was for blood! SLAVE OF THE CANNIBAL GOD) The rhythm cellos cannibals and the rhythm cannibals cellos, piano strings stretched over horses The rhythm cellos cannibals and the rhythm cannibals cellos, piano wire wrapped around horses / horses write riptide typewriters When suddenly Johnny gets the feeling he’s being surrounded by horses horses horses horses Surrounded by HORSES HORSES HORSES HORSES Surrounded by horses HORSES horses HORSES I house horses HORSES different patterns rhythms and accents I house HORSES horses different patterns, rhythms and accents, her arrangement in leaves She arranges leaves in lifted lattices, and leaves vine through the holes in horses Rhythm rushes horses the dead Horses harvest hops beer rhythm and dead ale anguish, and I worship syncopated snare horses I worship syncopated bass bombs zebra blended black bebop black nights and at night, I nurture dead I nurture seven sermons to the dead, my apartments in open adventure with abraxas ABRAXAS the mysterious axeman’s jazz (don’t scare me papa) slays swing and syncopation, and he became famous for a series of artworks in which he preserved dead animals (including a shark, a sheep, and a horse) sometime having been dissected, in formaldehyde ABRAXAS it’s not an animal, it’s a demon! THE GREAT ALLIGATOR Her alice alligator chomps jagged rhythm, teeth rust retrograde I immerse a fourteen-foot (four point three meter) tiger shark in formaldehyde in a clear display case Half shark half alligator half man Half shark half alligator half man serpent shark squirms spin swing and squirrel swing and I speak shitpost holy ghost I reach rhythm rhymetime or sesame street star trek John Coltrane’s straight street I have to be more conscious of the rhythm everywhere and all at once / rhythm the Dreaming and rhythm alcheringa abraxas bitches brew in benjamin’s apartment Bitches brew bereshit basketweaver woman rhythm, and her rhythm rumbles more and more time Her rhythm rascals more and more time, grand gods’ gestures and the gesture palm tree garden The gesture palm tree garden junebugs blonde burst redhead Christina
Vision and Mysticism 