Jimmy the Chatbot is Hungry for Gossip, image by Daniel Y. Harris
Excerpts from Posthuman Spam Psycle
Gloomy Poem Movie: After Kerouac’s Sax
Doctor Sax hostage to the neoplasm lambasts the strange homunculi he sees writhing black tendrils from cark’s neck tethering him like a supranational power plug burnt and bit-rotten any excuse to fight reason fuck this I’m going for smokes.
Acid blue palm fronds wave ripple tease the space between dust particles floating by in humid night high lick splash symbol Sax exits the bodega with a brown paper bag tight in fist plagued by a high-pitched ringing in his ears crumbling to genuflection before a violent sky.
Sax wakes to a Promethean chorus of seething polyps and arthritic fingers crooked sphincteric cramp alone in a storm-drain with leaves and other forms of stilted life hypnogogic residue whirring to a stop oxen ocean gathering dispersing buckets of waste buckets of food edging temerity of a burning bush Sax’s growing propensity for new sincerities.
White Animal Saviors
in (uk) human
Oresteia: After Bataille
Oresteia’s severed cock throated from either end by clytaemnestra and the dried maw of agamemnon’s corpse a gagging last supper of blush pink vomit and seed a strained kiss as the blood begins to drain and the member deflates impotent in his revenge oresteia kisses his mother goodnight his cock still lodged deep in her throat ad speculum he tongues his father’s unstitched mouth and sits back to leak black life out his cloying numb hole molding his masque-mortuaire clawing hallucinating a life of arcadian laughter rattling discordances a bag pipe of death sounding gaseous surrender and as oresteia’s work-worn soul shuffles away head bowed in shame clytaemnestra regurgitates the slimy morsel and priggishly chews before taking it back with a triumphant gulp.
Zoffany’s closed fist blooms glint of
evil signals the beginning of the end there
nestled in the clammy creases four tiny seeds
two on the line of my tongue an alien
vessel landing in an aqueduct on
a pink planet swallow high concentration
chemicals swarming instantly through my mind
a tinny distant voice says I got them from
a local chemawawin boy on the river of
forgetting where becoming and ending flow
reciprocally like kissing tongues everything
slows bows shifts down to a single hum.
Rimus Remedium Or How sick Poets Console Themselves: After Nietzsche
Glory to a prostitute a different kind of adonis grappling dismaying and overcoming with vitality to the endstrom wrought and fecund with decay glory to a prolapsed anus a different kind of honesty perspectival in its hanging reluctance to platitudes and growing with each unclean fist glory to a politician flayed a different kind of austerity glory to a depraved moralist a different kind of justice convinced of higher legitimation a truthfully selfish saint glory to a leper apocather a different kind of apotheosis glory to a mythopoet so sick with syphilis autochthon to sisyphus a different kind of genus.
O’ tiny circuit what is your destiny will you become
part of a particle reactor helping create
an ecological energy source giving free clean power to
the world or will you sit in a lab
mass-producing dichloroacetate stabilizing the molecules
needed to rid the world of cancer or
will you float gallantsly free as a satellite circumspect
poised among the stars so scientists
can monitor solar eruptions and radiation to stave off apocalypse
no replies another component on the board
we are to be used in one of those little security key calculators
for internet banking that make people
feel secure with technology with our kind progress then
no matter how long it takes utopia will come.
Trapeze rapist stuck on
the same wrong password
solar cunt cake proto-human
spam limbic dirt jar
c-section for the 21st century
mute vicious dog music
less saxophonist blowing snapping