Monday, June 26, 2017


False Goddess, image by AC Evans 


Fear of the Dark is a Modernistic tendency in culture and the arts that rejects subjectivist forms and movements such as Confessional Poetry, the workings of the Lyric Ego and Romantic Individualism more generally. 

Fear of the Dark is a phobic fear of introversion and inwardness, sometimes disguised by would-be ascetics with moral arguments against ‘self-indulgence’, 'egotism', the 'worship of false gods' or ‘ivory tower’ aestheticism. In truth Fear of the Dark is a fear of the psychic depths, fear of the uncanny, fear of the Shadow and the shadow world, fear of the dark-side.

Anxious critics and commentators who suffer from Fear of the Dark tend to privilege the Apollonian over the Dionysian, the abstract over the figurative and to value the Classic over the Romantic. At the same time they promote high-brow ideas of ‘elevated’ taste, ‘great’ traditions and cultural superiority. This fear is sometimes projected onto the products of consumer society, of mass entertainment and mass production. Such products are often treated with disdain, defined as Kitsch, denigrated as ‘decadence’ or, even condemned as idolatry.

Radical nonconformists may well feel they are on an iconoclastic mission to cleanse the world of distracting images and the products of the imagination. However, as Jung says, the Shadow 'cannot be argued out of existence or rationalized into harmlessness'. Furthermore, this fear can also be transformed into hatred because it reminds us of our 'helplessness and ineffectuality' in the face of the unknown – hence the zealotry of puritans driven by a compulsive phobia – Fear of the Dark.

—AC Evans

Saturday, June 24, 2017

Penetralia: Eshleman Inside & Out, A Review of Clayton Eshleman’s Penetralia By Nathan Spoon

CENOTE # 5, Penetralia book cover image by Mary Heebner,
1989 collage with pastel, pigment and canvas on Stonehenge rag paper 

Clayton Eshleman
Black Widow Press, 2017
ISBN: 978-0-9971725-8-4
5.9 x 0.6 x 9 inches
176 pages

Penetralia: Eshleman Inside & Out
A Review of Clayton Eshleman’s Penetralia By Nathan Spoon

According to the OED, the word penetralia means “the innermost parts of a building; a secret or hidden place.” Clayton Eshleman, who recently turned 82, has taken this word as the title of his newest collection of poems touching on themes including mask, violation, myth, psychospirituality, conspiracy theory and more, intertwined with poems and passages nostalgically recalling or addressing beloved poets, persons, himself and his wife and editor, Caryl.


“Reface me. / Deliver me from this shotgun blast mess,” Eshleman writes in the prayerful opening lines of his opening poem “For Connie Culp.” As we learn from both the poem and an endnote, this is a powerful real-life story. Ms. Culp, after being shot in the face with a 12-gauge by her husband, went on to become, in 2008, the first U.S. recipient of a face transplant. In contrast to the cruel act perpetrated by her husband, is the healing and restorative refacing performed by surgeon Maria Siemionow who led a team of eight doctors in a 22 hour operation, replacing more than 3/4ths of Ms. Culp’s face “with that of Anna Kasper’s, her donor.” Eshleman plays with sensitive details as he asks, “Will her soul reject her mask?”


The act of being shot in the face with a 12-gauge by one’s husband is also an extreme human-to-human violation. In these poems, Eshleman explores this theme in various other ways, including rape and warfare. “Oil Spill” (13 May 2010) addresses, in an explosion of color and texture, human-to-nature violation. “Dolphins,” “islands,” “pebbles,” “marshes,” “waves” and the “roan static sea” itself are all colored and slickened into “beauty-lewd eco-horror,” until we arrive at the poem’s coda, which weaves the concrete and the abstract, the real and the mythic together:

Oil slick containing in its lavender gloss
     a black tree-like configuration:
Olson’s 1968 eaten-out World Tree?        Update:
               Tree rotted through,     its flattened
        saurian            ghost                        spreading.

For how brief it is, “Oil Spill” holds more than it seems to on a first, a second or even a third reading. It has, as does much of Olson’s work, an intense, slow burn impact.

The poem “Tree Roots and Trunks” (For James Heller Levinson) combines self-to-self violation with the mythic. This poem, which takes its title from a painting by Vincent Van Gogh, is set in Auvers, in July, 1890. On the 26th of this month, the artist shot himself. Eshleman describes Persephone as being in command of “Vincent’s brush hand, / drawing him down to confront the fusion, / never achieved in painting.” The first line of the second quatrain finishes out the idea, “Her clitoris, when he dared to touch, felt triggerish.” This poem plunges headlong into the Eleusinian Mysteries of a troubled and creative mind, “A blue corm with three lidless eyes was staring at him, / a face now masked with twigs.” The artist wonders, “am I just like a planet, or a paralyzed star?” The poem replies that both artist and art are “Vaginal blast of the son shot back.”


Yorunomado is a mythic totem character who carries over from previous works by Eshleman. In this collection, Yorunomado first appears in its second poem “Posthumous Mask,” and then again in its fourth poem “Mandalizing,” (comprised of four letters to Anne Waldman) in which the poet explains, “I constructed my own guide, Yorunomado, out of the name of a coffee shop where I translated in the afternoon (Yorunomado = Night Window), & a… photo of a Sepika Delta head hunter sitting on a reed bench looking at a skull.” The poet created this character at a moment when he was unable to move forward with his translations of Vallejo. Thankfully, Yorunomado guided him forward in a visionary way then and continues to do so now.


“Mandalizing,” a reflection on the soul, also contains the aspect of psychospirituality and is impressive for the way it brings together Iranian Sufi Gnosticism, Tibetan Buddhism and Jungianism. Eshleman is bookish poet in the best sense. His knowledge of these various psychospiritual realms is obviously considerable, and still he never seems to make a merely decorative reference and, in the glut that is a hallmark of his work, he never overwhelms. Bookish reference after bookish reference clearly remains the material the poet is using to write what are clearly poems. This poem also demonstrates how textual appropriation, which is a method Eshleman uses throughout Penetralia, can be used artistically.

Visionary imagination prevails in a number of these poems. The final lines of “The Eye Mazes of Unica Zurn” provide a striking example of Eshleman’s visionary poetics, even as they touch on both vision and Zurn’s visionary artwork:

I watch Unica pupilize, puppetize, then flea bait her range.
I note the rotary palimpsest of all men inhabiting her facial levers,
motordrome cylinders on whose vertical walls eyes cycle defying gravity. Moon of cratered nests 
in which eye spiders drink her strength.

The image of the face/facial is present once again in these lines, while words such as “rotary,” “cylinder,” “cycle” and “moon,” not to mention “eyes/eye,” all drive the idea of roundedness.


“Wound Interrogation” offers an example of how most of the above-mentioned themes can be intertwined with conspiracy theory and transformed into poetry. This poem (which first appeared in X-Peri, January 10, 2016) also takes its title from a painting by the Chilean artist Roberto Matta. The conspiracy theory referenced here is, at this point, a common enough one about “The suppression of the horrifying truth of the 9/11 assault (more appropriately referred to as “The Pentagon Three Towers Bombing”).” In Eshleman’s estimation, this event “is, like an undiagnosed plague, lodged in the American subconscious.” All of this emerges in startling contrast to the precise imagery and extensive and deep knowledge found throughout these pages. Does the poet have a truly visionary insight into 9/11, which has certainly wounded the American soul? 


For all the wide-ranging and intense subject matter the poems in Penetralia contain, this is by no means a disjointed or despairing collection. Two years after the publication of Clayton Eshleman: Essential Poetry (1960-2015), this poet is doing more than avoiding sentimentalism and the hazards often associated with late nostalgic recollection. His work continues to be visionary and vital. Eshleman is unmistakably adding to his essential oeuvre and inviting his readers into “the innermost parts,” the “secret or hidden place” of Poetry. 

Friday, June 23, 2017

Joel Chace, Palmers #1, #2, #3, #4

Joel Chace, Palmers #1

Joel Chace, Palmers #2

Joel Chace, Palmers #3

Joel Chace, Palmers #4

Wednesday, June 21, 2017

Michael Mc Aloran’s longshadowfall (Ed du Cygne, 2017), reviewed by Lee Beckworth

Untitled (tempera on paper, 2003), book cover image for Michael Mc Aloran’s 
longshadowfall (Ed du Cygne, 2017) 

Michael Mc Aloran
Editions du Cygne, 2017
Foreword by Aad DE GIDS
ISBN : 978-2-84924-491-3
5 x 8" (13 x 20 cm)
84 pages
12,00 €

Michael Mc Aloran’s longshadowfall, reviewed by Lee Beckworth

The annihilation of the analogue discourse

 ‘wordless as if to ask were to be delivered from/ dice will expounds/ vocal expanse shrinks to elusive passage/ placement/ not a trace/ passage dead/ open passage passage dead/ remorse of the fragrant skull ever evacuating/ based in in/ of of until/ as if to/ steel light reflect of/ throes final/ not a…’

 In the work of Mc Aloran the word as abject agent within a narrative reaching critical mass operates beyond the limit of what can be thought but must be apprehended at cerebral escape velocity/to review such a text is difficult as it refuses to stop at any definitive assertion but keeps folding and unraveling the negation and trace of a movement of poetics that perpetually falls away from our most anxious desire to extract meaning from this elusive prose/There is a peculiar economic model at work here/Obscure exteriority coding our minds/Perfect superfluity a seamless stream of words encased in irony/There are no bodies anymore/An end to metaphysics demanding and yet prohibiting transgression as eschatological disintegration takes hold/Mc Aloran presents the reader with a vibrant urgency of neutrality the broken voice of the play of clusters of words and images is all that is left which is more than enough for the limited attention span of the reader in the 21C/the theory of littoral transgression is effaced as it is written for the illiterate rejection of the subject who would avoid the possibility of not existing as more than a temporary ambiguous phase of meaning open to the vicissitudes of ultra-complexity/Transgression never really transgresses but always calls for another limit another threshold escaping the servility of the self as immanence in inertia of intensity/unfolding the surface of itself/

 ‘glimmer tint of light revealed as…fingers itch for blade’s recountive/ spinal/ depth will then out from out of spoken lapse until/ shit-reek of unsaying ever-yet until/ priced lapse from head till foreign forgot/ not a/ warped limbs of speech in retardation climb dreaming lest to follow as if to/ beleaguered/ blood-reek wounded lock dry earth in moist palm/’

In this viral confrontation Mc Aloran calls for an engagement with words as incomprehensible limits in which the step into the beyond is completed as a state of liminal slippage circumscribed by illicit fictions/this is the circle of the law of the risk of arriving at an terminal point of discourse/There is a risk involved in engaging with this radical construct/Time can only be structured by the present which is in the post digital the NOW living in space of the intervals between thought and action/In the post digital the machinic text becomes waves of erasure/the divine in its absolute annexation of all existing desiring memory and information/The words pile up and extirpate any attempt to grasp the text as anything other than ecstasy of the sublime/ Or encounter a bleak compulsion to trace a thread of delirious continuity of thought/an aggregate of associations with the power to seduce/with authorial absence edited by rigorous economy/living in remixed hybridity is obligatory/not a choice/since it is the foundation for participating in a living/networked/globally connected culture/Mc Aloran’s text is at the cutting end of this cultural obligation/

 ‘snared/ fucking headless barrage axial grind death-willing jettison turning with ever solace division realm of some listless bleak what wind to pass throughout/ flogging dead hope of silent genesis collision trace of desire exigent blood peels away some skin depth altered piss for sustenance/’

seamlessly ingrained/ lung/ ever in/ lung snap/ scar tissue of benign tears/ sight-lock/ breathless all denounced in or about nor from until white trace/ unsaid what sorrow done/ till lapse/ falter/ again steps forth what light lapse laughter/ template of scar division stripping (the) broke stun absence dread/ once sung/ retains once more/ echo warp till clear redone clotted blood never the twain to follow…’

Returning infinity to the limit/The mind tangles itself in the present in its shadow falling and is blinded to the future by an incomprehensible impossibility of achieving semiotic indifference to word as commodity production/the limits of a literary project structured by the present and the transgression in the present which is never achieved is primarily a dying of distinct association between word as signifier and as state of resistance to neural engagement/a celebration of cerebral arousal which cannot be identified outside of the neural network/a transgression into sublimity/Cyborgian mixing of organic and inorganic/human and machine and electronic/the present in the text does not evaporate because the structure of the passages have no end but are continuous/a genealogy of textuality passed on as a consensual hellucination/The precession of words as conceptuality the gap of the textual wound attempts to go beyond psycho phillia as a practice of erasure of sense and attempts to fill the post verbal dialect of the void as a new celestial order/ Perhaps unthinkable complexity/The form of Mc Aloran’s text is rhythmic/looping on itself in patterns and layers that gradually accrete meaning/just as the passage of time and events does in one/s lifetime/

dregs what matter/ stone cold observe/ steals aside/ trace ember lock/ open/ fettered/ dread light bled/ sun dislocate given unto traceless ever/ bind blind-sighted want/ abortive cheer/ sung bellows’ tidal/ static outpour no wing mere bitter asking/ shattered surfaces/ obsolete blood-cold/’

echo echo distance burnt traces/ delivered/ stitch of redeem/ as if what once where of what matter/ specious now what matter of it/ in-record of tide/ sky essence never azure nor black yet/ forgotten/ shaded/ what once/’

But the limit of the synaptic deteriorates into the violation of the dream of time and duration as being/momentarily having time at its disposal for other than rationalized desire/the passivity of clusters of words is in itself beyond our most strident refusals to conform/What a ubiquitous definition of the impudent radical/Who dares reach the beyond in the text?/Who will write that which cannot be interpreted?/Unfolding is inscribed and Mc Aloran takes the risk moving to the peripheral of cerebral comprehension/the alternative he offers is a departure from exterminatory simplicity of conceptual jargon/Cannot be defined a plenitude or lack/This work is structure in its purist state and resistance is involuntary apprehension by the biological individual/The post digital subject will find this less of an intellectual predicament than the ideological one clinging to the post modern/The delicious refraction of intellectual obscenity/This is a sacred text responding to the techno culture of the 21C a text to be read by astronauts on their journey to Mars

empties from out of presence pulse decline it/ passage through liquid film/ gait pared away in presence passage/ film unto/ redone/ echo echo blind/ in struck strong blood reclamation no/ tastes/ bone shatters/ nothing claimed/ till claimed by/ not a sound in vice-clad breath of exigent/ colours laughter lack unsung/ in redeem of lack spill of dried wounds into cups of earth unfeel/ (this is)/ flesh it speaks alone in damage seasons/ celebratory pathway into soil’s collapse/ foreign all and of all in/’

Fragmentary writing occurs when knowledge becomes uncertain of itself/I don/t know but I have the feeling that I might know but probably won/t because my cerebral machine is incapable of jumping the abyss of pedestrian foundations/this demented incessant need to communicate/What?/thoughts no longer guaranteed

empties from out of presence pulse decline it/ passage through liquid film/ gait pared away in presence passage/ film unto/ redone/ echo echo blind/ in struck strong blood reclamation no/ tastes/ bone shatters/ nothing claimed/ till claimed by/ not a sound in vice-clad breath of exigent/ colours laughter lack unsung/ in redeem of lack spill of dried wounds into cups of earth unfeel/ (this is)/ flesh it speaks alone in damage seasons/ celebratory pathway into soil’s collapse/ foreign all and of all in/’

By being “whole” and a unity within the collective/the it taking the place of the I or the subject in writing/there is never any now in which to live anything/The reader is always preparing for the now of semiotic engagement and thus is eternally disappointed by the now making use of words resisting comprehension/The present of the word knows itself only as a literal presence unsatisfied unreconciled with meaning as coherent streams of information readily grasped/time is never completed in the present but put off into a future that may never arrive/Marginalized effortlessly inhuman the future as it is contained within the present moment disintegrated by the very gesture of meaning as certainty/calls into question all that the subject holds purposeful and of value in return for what?/Self-satisfaction?/ Whose voice is the reader listening to in this text?/This is the alterity of Mc Aloran’s text and makes a definitive attempt to engage the reader in its commodified channels of allegorical silence of the verbal current/To be transcendent is to be free of reality and this is a pivotal apparatus in Mc Aloran’s work/Bringing with it a certain exposure to a yet to be post digital subterranean extra-terrestrial comprehension/

spoken for as if for tomorrow/ not a trace/ in some following after laughter-lock some buried collapse/ lapse unto/ forgets forgotten that it has forgotten/ wrung out/ skins scattered vicariously across waste ground…lungs outstretched some bitter barb a stripped eye basking in sun lights/ alone is to best respite taken from onset’s winds/ nothing that cannot be outstretched wings till die what once/’

There is an excess of absence in this mapping of the waste ground of data fragments/ From what place does what is forgotten arrive at its capacity for rupture into objectivity?/a lack of confusion a clarity of sensuous fetish appears?/Difference essentially writes within a space-less memory/writing is repetition without origin in thought but in consequence of the illusion of thinking/theoretical insistences of the text on theorizing fiction as other or more than a threshold of transgression but a performance of the anxious search for what has never been written and perhaps can never be written/but the attempt must be made/The burden of the creative drive/

haven till of over than what stun vomitous teeth of some dead lapse longing for what end given beyond nothing there or otherwise/ it-stun what cleft lights repetitive edge/ colossus null and void we in/ reek of/ beyond shadow’s mark a tint of closure nothing more than ever if or none sunk blind light of despair illuminating a thankless worthless space…]’

Nothing is to be found easily as a symbolic dialogue that would satisfy us/we lack an origin in the sense of a possible digression into conjunctive signification/always reaching for a dialogue with the text but falling away into an epidemic of banality/in slow dissipation towards illusions a swift but strategic climax of multiple instants flowing in arc of constantly shrinking orbits of plurality/all graven images wrought from subversion create a new language closing all exits of escape into a present reality/A post human commentary of incalculable standard stoppages fragmentation the Subject splitting into skitzo selves of Artauds bOdy without Organs/In the work of McAloran however we are in the presence of exchange values peripheral digital exploration of possible futurity in the making/Notes from the zone of occupation/ shattered simulacra/Playing with coherence/marks on the surface of the abstract synthetic demands hunting for a logic of associative identity to attach its fearporn to/leaves no space for the process of identification because everything has been radicalised beyond subversion into a state of verbal virological fragments and extracts/Only the marginalised survives for they have no other desires other than to work the prohibition of deviancy/Literary consciousness becomes a prosthetic device of vague ironic luminosities infinitely manipulatable past on fast forward to the eternity of the post digital/

bite derision collapse skull wrench all salve and surface a kiss of bled stone lights no further purpose/ no/ traces on in maddening steel eclipted madly skyline ripped from view by assassin eyes fixed upon less vengeance utters no unto throughout cold breath/ breakage from centre nothing clad with acrid pelts shed in some bitter unbecoming becoming/ in/ of knowledge that must cease on its own terms what once till sound subsides and fades/’

The poetics of violence multiplicity of the imaginary nucleated by utilitarian psycho hydraulics/the warring poets the textual body is unfolding and re-folding inscribed by the way of the writing that dis-unifies the whole/The poetics of hellucination as toxic anti materialist essence penetrates and elicits the validity of the work if such a thing is possible/Disrupting the lucid disruptiveness of the fragmentary text superfluity confusing the reader with multiple unplaced/displaced/unnamed voices the unconscious bought out into a new paradigm of discourse/androgynous android/there is no sublimation/there are new coordinates of recondite expression as experiential ciphers/textual velocity/attempts to escape the inanimate emptiness of supressed chance to become imperceptible to dismantle the identity and reconstruct as an confronting series of anomalies/the subversion of unlawful certainty/Mc Aloran creates a superficial validity perfectly in accord with the 21C/

‘…ends as it does not wish to have ever had/ commence then out or not what matter/ dries eyed spurious metals a vibrant bloody welt/ asking of some none till follow long shadow fallen/ it says yet lacks all sound/ rent flesh in scum divisive edge guttered night abort of fragrant none of it about/ or else what else not a trace to be seem/ strips bare nothing no no matter if/ in-lacerate of bedamned dried blood nothing drag of irrepent dragging the spinal affluence some solace climb to dream of exigent given to taste/ what wind/’

The prose enters deep into the hidden tensions of the reader transmitting subversive illogic/trying to locate the next revolutionary step away from human cognition of self as paradigm of consciousness into a hybrid sensory perception/merged with latent cyborg unconsciousness in multiplicity of ways having links and rhizomes to dreams/night mares/imaginations/pathologies of psychotic fantasies/phillia/ Immanently manifested/all the range of psycho logical sublimations by products of mass condensations/allowing access to techno impressions/thoughts of all other sentient beings able to use amalgam of incubated viral mutations metabolic atrophy absorbed thru cerebral membranes/McAloran provides the energy for his celibate machines to drive post-human remnants into near extinction/ Transmissions that share a code with the future are rare/Situating a new axis a map of co-ordinates for literature and the writer/sublime singular rhetoric comes back to haunt the transgressive narrative/obliterated/highlighted against the corpuscles of the savant void the presence of a defused cerebral rupture proof source of spasmodic libidinal energy/

cylindrical abase murmurs beneath breath trace of broke stone bodies clinging together as of shit to boot heel/ nothing there/ not a trace of redempt/ view is of outstretched vulture wings and the bleed of foreign silences for all time spent eradicated what songs from cancerous flesh to absorb no further than a lie from outset’s chalice/ what sung we lung it is said/

Mc Aloran’s transmissive symbols so well constructed producing a discordant amorphous proto existence in which the mind has not yet come to be able to discriminate between the conscious and the unconscious/balanced on the precipice of synthetic interrogation/The authentic realism of plenitude as fetish/Escape with the evidence of the crucial hyperlinks to the cyborg as evolutionary zero/This work is fearless because it expands out of itself always unsatisfied by the inherent weakness of current epistemological alchemy/Mc Aloran’s text then is the making of a new unconsciousness in which the impulse to change existence finds its way to absolute demands for a geometry of complexity/Impossible but inevitable/There has been a series of event horizons begun in recursive blasphemy that collectively have eradicated the disease which is humanity/We are faced with the digital impersonal loss/no subjective being appears to exists in Mc Aloran’s text which founds its narrative on the reflection of alluding to a presence in the fantastic visions of virtual reality/he holds the labyrinth of the universe in his hands releasing a torrent of inspirational prose that subverts and intervenes with an intuitive teleological imagination/a tendency to reach the terrain of continuous infinity in a spatiality that is ultimately linked to a digital future/

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

Fusiform Gyrus, Excerpts from Euryphion, Raze

Theory of Normativity, image by Irene Koronas 

Excerpts from Euryphion, Raze

theory of normativity: a pantoum 
associative action-generating derivation of the umlaut affect-
laden gooseflesh deliberate arational ahistorical meretricious-
shove flescious fissure pressure as multitudinous hyper-
esteem  bead  of   toothpaste  cap  of  automaticity  amputee

ahistoric-laden  flesh of  deliberate  arational  goose  pulp of
agnostic with respect to its content a trait shared with
amputee automaticity toothpaste cap of plastic esteem of
animals and developmentally and conceptually antecedent to

other cognitive attitudes lumpy shalalie cock of and wave to
Koronas’ flescious hyper-beat multitudinous nodule shove
administer blackmarket anaesthetic into the saphenous vein
sauntering ghost of orgasm associative action-generating um


A domegemegrottebyte of DOXX  
ontico-ontological KETTLE
gloryhole post-late-capital DOXX turmoil of cognizance and a terror-still self-disclosedness KETTLE of being-against    self      DOXX          cue: KETTLE the lapping pectin-rich saliva of ancient monk archivists DOXX masticating sacred texts in secret protest of mass-disseminate hex KETTLE torso   is unmarked   grave marched bloated to death DOXX ornamented in daub KETTLE   torso is tapped then       drained      DOXX massaged in drippings and yeast KETTLE tumours are salty legumes DOXX bursting one   by one in  my  teeth   KETTLE caliphate    to    cute cat meme: DOXX we      are      exhausted KETTLE and the devil, he sees DOXX cat meme: I need hugz KETTLE and lubs pweese DOXX secret kisses are exchanged KETTLE like bit coins on the dark web DOXX pulsing trilobites of light rot KETTLE spawn and ebb             DOXX water protectors hosed back in the throes of their ideals DOXX dirt hungry decimal thugs            KETTLE
                   seek-abject-steal           DOXX droves of microscopic mites probe DOXX at the infinite expanse the space between sinew and dermis KETTLE lethargic sand baby spit interacts                   DOXX Euryphion paces at the mizpah café KETTLE methodical treatment of the mundane DOXX    until one day the ritual is sacred KETTLE and the horrific profane DOXX the tetrapod DOXX and Pyramid Hydraulic Ram Water Pump stand KETTLE around pondering state-sponsored street art DOXX bound KETTLE to prosper DOX    on   amanita    amidst clouds of doughnut-flavored air vapour KETTLE.              

*a revision of an earlier poem previously published by X-Peri

Ariadne’s Lament (after Nietzsche)

will you dead me hard out
scornful hunter

will you taze-bind my brain
and eavesdrop on

my shameless fawning
scornful hunter

will you ever satiate
my wine-whet thirst

will you righteously till
my soil-worn hands

—Fusiform Gyrus

Sunday, June 18, 2017

Heller Levinson, applications from the Hinge Module “in the pith of ______”.

in the pith of an ambulatory redux

fasicular cherish lurch unbundle righteous

em-bloom   en


counselling petrification:  liquefy

flaneur waffle /           swizzle surge   /           purl rustle



pearl pack knobs grassy gland vascular



in the pith of a soft ember tap dance

emblematic of the turning is a

way toward.  this too a way to.

            on pliable:  metabolic

            on plausible:  dare

            on fruit:  fructuous

from postexilic obscurity the soothe-wardens converge

the long & short of it is corner luxuriance vertex croon the

sum of things

as always ambivalence is unhealthy

for the gums

in the pith of collapse

in the soot-swart maze of heterogeneous

                        --maggot pilfer

                        --tocsin revel

                        --plunge putrescent unwind

purulent undermine

disturbance arrives as audacious un-do

unassured orthodoxies roach rattle

                                                                                    topple havoc demolition decompose

‘life’ enshrouds life, dribbles ornamental


bandit-props nullify the pull-out,

the riptide quash, the

annihilative mow down

legitimacy hijacked

the heresy of




—Heller Levinson

Saturday, June 17, 2017

Younisos, Carnal Experimental Poetry

Flesh is silence, image by Younisos 

Cut-up on deep throat in the sky

cut !
cut it up
silent cum
sidereal throat
cerulean blowjobs
bits of howling melon
viscera on the horizon
wild murderous sausages
cruel schizophrenic rump steak
blind giant bone fucking the moon

Sharp jissom

My own corpse is the path, translucent pattern of the bold paranoiac egg. Licking it 
brings the absolute filth to any abstract steak.

Gutted nymphs crossing the street under the bright ax of aesthetics.
— Mister Giant Steak slaughters Vaïna in the sunshine.

mobs of condoms…  beaded panic


Huge butchery deployed on sixty six bald continents.  Millions and millions of bodies, 
bled, flayed, boned... — Fresh pearly bones, super bony dildos, entirely organic dildos...

Bonesodomise yourself. That’s the path.

Mad oranges

six furious lemons
cervicals crushing the algorithm

sweet guts sleeping in pyretic clouds
humming black mud's smile  — greedy pig
my ode to killing  joy

in quasars
unplugging your gleet circuits
smashed ego
creamy fibers of the wondrous anus

— juicy thigh kills the moon

rampant pears yelling /
                   dildo pulp / winged blood / stormy hunger

flayed dreams
frank cliffs of fresh livers
— /
. /
...  milky girl
slit my glans


How could I sodomize the light ?
Is there any enlightened delirious ass, out there, on the edge ?

Pale cannibal Danaé just slaughtered Clotilde, ate her fresh liver, and lay on my 
ramshackle bed, showing off that round milk-white butt.

At Obaoba, female flesh tastes like sweet corpses...
My shattered skull licking the sidereal bosom.

Just come and suck my marrow... only aesthetics will bleed me to death... I'm all sugar 
for your twisted thirst... my liver going wild on the tongue of the final sensory 
spectrum. Obaoba was a nightclub in Tangier, packed with fresh curvy meat.

Hideous fetus surging  roaring stridulating in warm juicy night.
The universe is a big obscene joke, dismal rubbish, ridiculous... a scarlet little beast 
yelling inside the fridge. My trembling bones squirt carnal cut-ups when they perceive 
the roundness of Danaé's butt ——

A giant sausage moves on, crawling on the milky edge of our pulpy galaxy.
The asshole of the Milky Way is not a black hole, no... it's a big big real fleshy 
anus, and it gets sodomized by bony silence.


Younisos writes what he calls carnal experimental poetry.” He is the author of Carnage Sensitif, in French; and is now looking for a publisher for his new book in English: Carnal Flux and Sensory Slaughters. He lives in Tangier.

Tuesday, June 13, 2017

Ariel Resnikoff, excerpts from Y I N G L O S S I A

Unnatural Bird Migrator, image by Michael Sgan-Cohen, 
1985, screenpoint, 70x50

Y I N G L O S S I A “A C U T E P A I N ”

a cute pain, usually appearing as oi vai zmir [lit. woe is me] -- the stuff & nonsense air, so you say [lit. know from what]. my crawling ache [slang, lit. wandering jew] & never stopped to itch. but whom are you kidding? [lit. what’s the joke?] & whom are you fooling? [lit. who are you fucking over (this time)?] when I eat my anti-semites, i’ll chew them out myself! they’re jews like me. i’m hell on earth to them, gaping as a pit [lit. where the devil sits to say his mourning prayers]; get killed! they recite (in communal prayer); drop dead! get lost! go choke
. . . who knows? who cd’ve believed? to be ruined as such [lit. inf(l)ected ]. how’s business? how’s tricks? what’s yr name, huh? what’s yr mother’s name? how come? how much? (a wild one) . . .you want? what else? what’s it matter (to me), huh? what’r you talking my head off? watch out! [lit. to throw one’s eye at] what a sober carries on his lung, a drunk struts- but what’s the difference? capable of [lit. what’s on his tongue] & all in the cards, but what’s the trick? [lit. what’s cooking?]: a “wound of balogna” [lit fried sausage-cheese-noodle] or vyzso [slavic, lit. fool] named for Haman’s youngest son. **the jews vooz [lit. boo] the dybbuk tongue away & when sleeping, later cut it out. photographs of the tongue are posted on the study hall’s wall to mark the day

Y I N G L O S S I A “ S E C O N D B U R I A L ”

be happy! [lit. a shapely phrase] to be at pains to make sense amid non-sense [lit. in many tongues at once] -- excuse me? -- y’re all set!  [lit. back on the horse & keep riding]
blessed among an ashkenazi [lit. jewish-germanic accent] recalling the dead—a mama zelig punch, bang - pow ! [yiddishism, thru sexual taboo] in sparing a miserly uncouth & fake [lit. slobbish] fate makes unruly whirring [lit. can’t stop talking] & doesn’t shut its mouth.
the sinner [lit. he who tempts fate] sweet talks atop a pile of pins & bristly sticks
plotting our sins in 7-day-mourning postures [lit. a sitting widow] patient as a shapely phrase.
let it burn & may god help [lit may god prevent] but i haven’t got the faintest idea what. so onions grow from his navel -- so what? let it be. o.k.? that’s it. let it be.  if it (you) shd be so [lit. well said]. good luck & be quiet. you shd live so [lit. in such silence]. you shd swell up like a mountain [lit. lie in the earth]. **they place him in the ground. don’t worry,  slob! dear son. my darling daughter

Ariel Resnikoff