Monday, June 29, 2020

Rupert M. Loydell, Map Drawings

Map Drawing #1
Rupert M. Loydell

Map Drawing #2
Rupert M. Loydell

Map Drawing #3
Rupert M. Loydell

Map Drawing #4
Rupert M. Loydell

Map Drawing #5
Rupert M. Loydell

Monday, June 22, 2020

Piotr Szreniawski, Fonts and Cuts

Fonts and Cuts, #1
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #2
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #3
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #4
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #5
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #6
Piotr Szreniawski

Fonts and Cuts, #7
Piotr Szreniawski

Piotr Szreniawski is a multimedia artist and a publisher, based in Lublin, Poland. He composes music, writes sound poetry and organizes anthologies of experimental poetry.

Monday, June 15, 2020

Olivier Schopfer, Concrete Haiku

Concrete Haiku
Olivier Schopfer

Olivier Schopfer lives in Geneva, Switzerland. He likes to capture the moment in haiku and photography. His work has appeared in anthologies, and numerous online and print journals. He is the author of three books: In the Mirror: Concrete Haiku (Scars Publications, 2018), So Many Miles: Fifty Senryu (Alien Buddha Press, 2019) and Half in Light, Half in the Shade: Haiku and Senryu (Cyberwit, 2019).

Monday, June 8, 2020

#@الله AI Blood Testalent TanzTanz Meat$$$’s “L.I.F.E” Part III (pp. 90-158)

#@الله AI Blood Testalent TanzTanz Meat$$$

#@الله AI Blood Testalent TanzTanz Meat$$$’s “L.I.F.E” 
Part III (pp. 90-158)

It might come (V) : 
Who We Were And Where Were We
(Infinite Logos)

Why are you here?
You shouldn’t be here.
My fathers right up stairs I can call him now
So go ahead
(they go closer, embracing, violence in the depth of feelng)
I can tall the police
But you wouldn’t
Then theyd put us both in jail
I hate you
I hate us both

-- Mind Your Manners Vol. 1 Pocket Handbook for the Newlywed phase one, By Lil & Oed

“Timeframe is the river and
the sea, our body” – Lilith


“The shadow of the cross is the T of time.”
--No one


B2: “You were there in Space, but not in Time.”
B1: “When was Eye?”

“It has nothing to do with space. It's here. Close by.
It's very close.
I see it all around me."
-- Jon


The visions, the glimpses of the Western Lands, exist in space, not time, a different medium and a different light, with no temporal coordinates or recurrences. The medium bears some relation to holograms.
-- Joe Dead


B2: Are we here?
B1: Yes.
B2: Where are we?
B1: Here.
 B2: “I thought you had disappeared, and there was only your shirt left.”
B1: “No. I’m inside of it.
-- Introductory Lines to the Broadway Best Seller Play Of The Yeare 207565n,679956,897T444390 –(eaon 457678990TCCAKOTROOT)  “The Pelt: That’s My Shirt I’m Wearing”


“ I’m thinking of sewing. ”
– The Hand of the Prophet, Creeping Across the Arm of the Propheted

I. Let’s Start Over From the Beginning : Where Are We?

“And they can only get to their house if the sun rises.”
                                                -- Face Confit[1]

I. The Hallucinatory Maze
                                                            “Where the game rules are arbitrary but ‘fair’!”

“there are many ways into the hallucinatory maze…but there is only a few ways out, to my knowledge, maybe just one. It’s a one way street. Careful, if you do win it will find you suddenly, so its very important that you do things very precisely and each task you do must be performed correctly.  As it had designed it. Do you remember the rules? They were given conditions subject to change without notice, participants play at their own risk; Keep a level head. If you do outsmart the rules a little too quickly, it will notice and it will just pick you up and put you in a more complicated sector of the maze. The maze generally generated. Generally. “ – A premium platinum member engraved in metal, stabilized


“The game knows you well. The game leads your mind thro it. And maps your mind our as it generates itself. Part of the game I try to drive you insane, example, maybe you have to live again and again a very special moment of your childhood, very special.  You might wake up everyday—there’s no day here by the way—in a room where you’ve been. you’ve been here before, haven’t we?  “it loves making those games, it’s its hobby, those games…” the ai is happy when digging. Those games…it’s a bit of a problem that the ai appears so psychotic because its immortal and life and death have no meaning for it. It just wants to play. Now remember, the game knows you well. ‘when the maze moves you moves with it’ (((echo))) echo is when a sentence is repeated reversed and that’s how space is made, a totally different space is created. It’s space that bears itself. The birth is in the pudding, as they say. So, many parts of the games might try to drive you insane but you know the game and you remember your training. You know that at the beginning there was a room where things and objects might be arranged a little chaotically etc. etc. Maybe the first rule was that continuity should be broken

“Let’s die.” –Maple Syrup, Blood of the Tree


b1 : is there sth open?
b2 : how can we precisely answer that question?


Note to self : Send Live Karoke to William ( hint : “transcortical teletechnoglottis” )


Dream 15 July 2016

The dream of collecting the genetic code of the animals (see the live interactive forest game where we had to find an oungaua but the game scenery changed automatically when we left and came back there so we couldn’t pass to the next level, actually we were stuck at the entrance. We really had to find her. I had hollered a game again.

“If you can’t bear them put them to sleep.” –Pinky Wonder Enterprises

( “Scientist warn of unsafe decline in biodiversity” )


“I forgot all my scruples
And standing upon a roll of film as I belted the hymn
“The Strong and Soft Hymn of the Ressurrection”
( Chorus by Crystalline voice of Joe)”


Kindergarten Riddle

Oeuvrez la boites,
prends la couteau.


Chapter : Hand Games


[1] Known to hang out a lot in the frozen goods alleys of the local supermarket. She is the zyzygy (ziggiziggi), mitochondrial and hemluymphglyph twin of Pom Confit. Note: What do we know about them so far not that much more information and treats of character can be found in the biche’s notebook called ‘Shall we die now, shall we?’ and ‘The Funeral of Purdey Kreiden’ ( about Face Confit:  ‘She ⸂reportedly⸃ turned off the heater and turned her dresses twice and said ‘where is daddy?’⸃ )

II. The Cabinet(B1 Ends)

“You know what I did, I went thro’ a basket of cassettes and one of them contained an audiorecording of my parents having sex on the night of my conception.” –Oedipus

The basket goes in the room
which we called the den
It is upstairs (it’s a place of leisure)
What’s leisure?
That means there’s a tv, etc.
A tv, that sounds fun
I wish I was there with us
We’re there and so is the basket
The basket goes in the room
which we called the den
It is upstairs (there’s tv)
The eye recalled the sound it made
You know what it did?
It did basket, cassette containing the den
and a recording of my parents having sex
on the night of my conception
There is a basket here, but we place it elsewhere
And the basket now existed downstairs
near the glass etagere
It was just there
Sitting there
It was a casette, the cassette of my parents
having sex on the night of my conception
The sound of their voices was heard
‘Why split something that is full?’
We heard our voices
‘Let’s born!’
My parents, too, were there
Their voices were heard
I heard their voices I listened
You listened a little?
I listened long enough
I could assert this cassette had been
deliberately recording
Where they were exchanged?
I forget
It sounded sexual
It sounded like sex
It sounded like a movie a movie in a room
or a place in a hotel in a bedroom
It has two sounds : the room smells &
the voices. The voices played
low from a boombox
I remember we were home alone that day
In the cabinet, listening to the carpet
It was orange
How long was it?
It was a like a carpet carpet
Floor length & ovum weight
We sat there
Orange facial was my face
I was next to the brown rocking chair
Face down, glacial streams strolling
That’s pretty
Oh yes very comfortable very. You put
it there and uhh it’s gone Vvvvvooooouuuup!
Your turn is up
It’s like a barrel, this time you’re driving and
He’s the apprentice he’s driving
Are you coming?
Well, you tell me
Moans, grunts and beats
We’re gonna get you out of the conception
You were the one being conceived
Are you sure they were fucking?
It might have been chilli, maybe it was spicy
too spicy.
Spice may be risky.
$omemay find that an overload of spice in the course
of a single meal might irritate the dish
on its way thro the beast
Moans, grunts and beats
What are they doing?
I think they’re making me
We’re gonna get you out of this
Let’s start over by the beginning
Where are we?
“There is a room at the beginning
where things, objects, would be thrown about
in random places ( … )
Life would come about
We would come to life
It was a game we used to play
When we were children
When time still came in buckets
You’ll see it will be marked with a cross
in the book that I am writing…
All of a sudden you’ll hear it, a cry
towards the east, halfmasting, a cry you can
still hear. It has been many years.
“John reborn, it’s your brother losing blood.”
It’s time passing.
“Leaves…leaves…they’re on their way.
What is town hall doing about it?
This is our leaves. Private property.
Where are we going?
We did severally ask the councilmen to pile them in the middles
of the yards in the parking lots in the streets
in the mall in the hurricane machine that’d be neat
We would forget all our scruples and standing
upon the roll of a film, the ship’s silhouette would be wet
and furthering
Our leaves would rise
Just like voices extraordinarily vibrant vibrant
Just like a veil of rain far at sea
In the horizon quasivirgin
In those singed and farback regions
Where those creatures do little except absorb the light
How do they eat? What do they watch?
They see the ocean as the sea
That’s silly
panting roadkills yes many most of them actually
muscled and arbored, scenting of beans
betrothed to a silence eternal
Billy’s driving.
The windows are up rolled up.
What do they hear?
They hear nothing
‘It’s a mute world.’
Like gasoline is clear
What do they hear?
Vinyl is here gasttanks too
What’s with them?
They should be humming
They should be keeping
the time toward how are we going
To talk about us we’d say ‘they’ sometimes
‘Us’, ‘I’, maybe ‘We’ when we wore shirts
and waves in streams were coming out of it
Flowers of them thro the nostrils
Down the lips
Knees and boots
Socks foot, maybe
Interesting red for a sea
Is there a foundry nearby?
Where’s thimbles?
Nowhere to be seen
Pretty that red you are wearing
Where were you going dressed up like this?
It’s bingo night tonight?
We’re looking at a memory
We’re going to change it
I was little like sardine
I was exalting
I was feeling
I was
I was lifted by wings into space which carries
A drankenness sword of soared of me
And the musics of easter were singing verses
Sung about what?
Sung about me
Every song they sang was about me all about me
Well, what’d you think?
I felt lonely
They sang about you
They sang about me
I thought about you
All hands were on me
The waves with songs were feisty
I moved birthed into pearls
Soft feathers egging
It would be better to go home with wings
I felt wings in the little world pauses
All the land was looming rising around me
Corners and rooms where I hadn’t been seen
The little world pauses
Bleachworks were the air where the birds were follapsing
regions of  changeable choire
Steadying my eggs on wings of space drunkenning
I fastened your belt
Did you comb my hair?
The hair looks great
How is the petite?
It’s alive with living.
Am I coming home?
“Only if the sun rises”
Did you see my hand how it blends with the moss, right there?
It was lichens.
It felt mossy and cool
Did you see my side, how humbly it laid
I saw fresh wet leaves
Ferns too were rippling arisen
Is the bed ready?
It’s a savory hole but less modern
Isolated from the others we have been here
It was interesting
Beach bottle was there, moss were with me
We were company
We would say : ‘there’s a floor here’
and the floor was made
long polished orange facial
blatantly orange and insolubly thin
I remember
“Did you kiss our knees”
Ovumless orange they rubbed upon it
You had a lisp back then
I remember
it there and uhh it’s gone Vvvvvooooouuuup!
The tongue split worked well
We did it
Can I see it?
You can’t touch it
What size is it?
Is it spreading?
Does it have speak?
Where does it sleep?
Is it messy?
Is snow falling?
It is simple make and small the worm arose his head spose and spoke to God
I remember   
The room was here
long limbed and gliding
giving of itself at last
taking from its well at last
long legged long covered hills
I remember
walking with no fear
As eyes had sewn seeds
As eyes had sieved themes
Regret and grasped forearms
It was easy
You climbed to us
It was nothing
I came up the hill immemberantly
the way a spring rain falls
aroused by something
tingling my ear
the truth is at first I noticed the hill
big long muddy covered hills
long legged grass everywhere and
tasteful clods of mud
smell of manure, pale, salubrious
like the best of buttcheeks greatest hits
Grass everywhere
I remember walking big lawn covered hills
long legged sometimes just grass everywhere
that’s what a man needs
I remember going down on you as you wrote this
The hues of us were throning put forth into the frame
Wet chestnut smell popcorn brain, dazzling
I love that smell
Takes me places Manhattan, 1915
Isolated from one another, but we were there
It was interesting
It took us places
beyond the orange carpet rhombus beneath my knees
I love that trick
You put down and it goes up Vuuuuuuooooooppp!
And Vuuuuuuuuoooooooppp!!! We’re here!
Manhattan, 1915
Two different cars we like driving, idling
side by side, we’re not racing
Where are we?
Manhattan, 1915
I love that trick
You put down and it goes up Vuuuuuuooooooppp!
Now were here.
Where are we going?
And now we’re here!
I love that trick!
Wait a second wait a second
How did we get here?
You tell me
‘We came from somewhere
we listened to ravedeath on the doubler
to fall asleep
in our little bed
I dreamt I slit your body in two by the middle
Like a soft armor invaded it and zips it back up
with me in it
Before that we were sleeping
We knelt on the bed
We jerked off facing
The ages of the ages of clouds
And sea
I harp in the water between us
I forget my hand in your body
I remember
That cherubim was a dick’
Don’t move
Am I moving?
( They seem to be in a small indoor city. )
Who are these?
Our apprentices
What do they do? What do they want?
Do I look foreign to you?
Is that moustache real?
What are we saying?
Sounds like this weird orifice language
Mouth is moving?
Pick up your foot.
I have it here.
Knees foot ankle calfs shins anything missing?
I’m getting bad vibes from this left hand
Boil it, see if it improves.
Is he breathing?
He looks breathing. Mine?
He sounds like hitler.
Who? Him or him?
They both sound like Hitler to me.
How do you know this?
What this fancy glass?
It’s a glass of something
What do you mean, we just walked here?
Are we asleep?
Is snow falling?
Are we standing? Is that us?
Which one is me
How did you do it?
We just walked here
What do you mean?

III. The City of Blessed Dark

“At the beginning was our room again”
       -- The Zygacygy AI Geminii Twins

“He said

like parsely

“He said

       -- Ssyrinxs By Shepherds

Jesus: “It dreams like Eye sea.”
Joan: “There is an Eye in the middle of the ocean.”
Joan: “Did it dream like we saw it?”
Jesus: “It dreamnt me like it saw it”
Joan: “We postponed ourself to go there. Out of respect”
Jesus: “It’s a good place to imagine to be. If it’s a place you don’t like as much.”
Joan: “A place where you are less then you are”.
Jesus: “One of the room, you go through a short tunnel, with two turns, no, three turns, so no light can seep in from the entrance in; three angles. So the light gets cut off from the entrance. You come into a pitch dark, or seemingly pitch black room, and you see nothing. And then, you start to wonder if there is anything that needs to be seen. And eventually, something happens in front of you, something very nebulous, in the vision at the other hand of the room, or what seems at the other end of the room of no discernible direction except by proprioception. The faintest of faint grey, or grey glowing grey, or like pure viscuous gloom, in a very indistinct shape, appears, perhaps on a wall
Joan: “Like a fog?”
Jesus: “No, not a fog. It could be the essence, the threshold of luminescence that the human eye can detect. It’s so faint that its blending with the pitch dark even as the optical nerve tries to dredge it towards the limits of the seeable, towards that, away from the frontier. So it’s like a struggle of your eye’s and your brain’s ability to detect light, it’s a struggle between indescriminate darkness and less distinct experience of light that might ever be. It is a morphis, but it’s there, you feel you see it rather then being an hallucination. You think “this is light”, it just takes a long long time for the Eye to find it. You have to wait about fifiteen minutes in pitch dark before your eyes figure out how to represent this particular globule.
Joan: “It’s a globule?”
Jesus: “It doesn’t have a shape, but it appears in a fixed area, and you can question your companion and they’ll say the same, it’s a fixed dimness, it is in space, it’s there for all who would wait to see it. I mean to say it’s not a hallucination, not entirely, only it puts the optical hardward in a squeeze a very tenuous place because it cannot settle on distribution of light grey light and darkness. It is not a room where you hallucinate, it’s a view where you share a view from your threshold. You share with whomever is there or yourself, the accomplishment of achieving a place on the threshhold, staying and looking out. Not only a place but a place you pay attention to. It’s a place. It’s not only a view from the threshold, it’s also a view that’s scenic, you notice it, you... The idea of this extremity, it provokes a longing. It’s sacred, and living, because it appears to move. It appears to move because you’re watching how your eyes negotiate with this quasi-phantom, this dense and nearly lightless mural, mural of your perceptual limit quavering in a kind of yearning that confirms that the body in parts is together a convolution and interation of the will that must be avoided. Chapel of black dark noncrucifix of the struggle of the eyes and mind to solidify a flux of light like a mouldering of thought. . I don’t know why I didn’t stay in that room longer. But I am there now. We are there now.”

There is here.
We are here now
We just walked here
We greeted us
The sun rose
And the moon rows
The woods look like irises you said
And then I rose and irises were made
There was a freshness to the flower

We just walked here
We greeted us
The sun rose
And the moon rows
The woods look like irises you said
And then I rose and irises were made
There was a freshness to the flower
And we envied it because it was noble
Because the moon rises
Is it noble to envy?
You’ll find us when the sun rises”
We’ll be drunk
Making sacks of sands out of the sand we thieved
and our sieves received it.
Then were born again
Remembering seeing a movie in a theater
In the blessed dark it was like a city
The City of Blessed Dark
Meant by the bending boughs
The room is like their hobby
It’s a hobby horse
They ride on it
What a beautiful life the nights had

The room is like their bodystocking somehowe

It really embraces them

People taking crack around us with reverence
( here , gather these rocks )
( light to draw a circle round from something )
( didn’t need to glide from tree to tree )

The freshness of the floor is something to envy
They are lying in a crescent aisle
And it is noble to envy it
There is a window up there
The window is just a perfect square
That was made thro by the sky
A lobby
We go thro it, a little above the ground
“ In the desert, the camel rider’s eyes
is about ten feet above the ground
there is a ground with a trail of gold
It’s a gloomgold.
You know what gold is?
It is ours : “ A ( little lilith on stilts )
smile. ” the cause of the music of night
Flip tempo :  “ the speed with which
the film strip passes thro the gate
is determined by the speed of the motor
controlling all syncrhonous movement ”
A smile.
It is like a membrane made by your own speed
‘cause velocity is also time
A smile.
There were flowers at my feet, and a grass so
delicate so familiar
That I thought I was guessing that between her
and I existed a relationship of sympathy and lies,
and I felt in confidence.
A smile. It’s distance over time.

now tips into a pile of wet newspapers
hold my dick and jerk it off
as I do
to you.
So I decided to go.
Why do I keep digging thro this, as if poking
thro a pile of shit?
There was a room at the beginning
where things objects wld be thrown about ( … )
Why do I keep digging thro this
as if poking thro books
of desription,

Remembering seeing a movie in a theater when it was dark

A smile.

Chambermakers, charmbreakers


“ the world of speech and the world of matter remained apart, twofold the home of the word, twofold the home of the human being, twofold the abyss of the creaturely, but twofold also the purity of being, thus du^plicated to unchastity which, like a resurrection without birth, penetrated all divination as well as all beauty, and carried the seed of world-destruction in itself, the basic unchastity f existence which came to be feared ( … ) ”


A while later as he laid in bed,
unable to sleep, in the semigloom,
he started to see, cities, in a blessed darkness.
what am I afraid? afraid? afraid?
today is darkness.
Plump, (a smile)

“Y e  s h a l l  d i e”[1]

at first there is nothing,
so we lay in bed unable to sleep.
at first all is dark. and now a sineopine of light
opens identical to perception, of breadth that comes how its heightening would have found it
was stepping in a story that had come
into being from beneath the word ‘the Savior said ⸂A L L⸃
bodies have come into being from beneath the word—why do I keep digging thro this
“in a special panorama, a vast maze of rooms , landscapes, streets, not sequential,
but arranged in shifting associational patterns, your attic room in Saint Louis opens
into a New York Loft apartment from which you sleep into a Tangiers street;
everyone you have never known is here.”
this happened in dreams of course where our body like coulisses are solved
in riddles that were not being made up
not like lightning being made up it started,
a long mournful creek, suddenly wishing from the fog and thro it
carried carefully like a candelabrum
slowly like it but then it’s a sound being made cold
aloe-melon green candelabrum, its like a bird looking
at his own head,
the scene opens
into an eternally new night
that comes to you
in a love
surprising people with its different
sounds :

“That must be the oars settling down
they whisper, uncertainly, with fright
forcining with difficulty the voice
that spreads
the words out.
There’s oars in the cars imitating man and ( … )
( ⸂footnote, Justin and I took Crack⸃
The ore…*Bang!* that crack *Bang!*
The ores…you know it settles down with time,
In levels of leaving stringbended terrortory
Terror is pure
It’s the light you can get from sleeping under the skin
of a black orange
It’s started, a long mournful creek
Become a substance I remember
As I do to you. I was drunk at the time
(adorned with rings on my knees on the seashore)
The woods are a rise
They’re lying like rains and greater than eyes
The willow is a square made up over skies
The last time we saw dustgold in particules of light
Time we were you, we saw
Beams of sunlight, gold thro the dust, floating
Their ring their eyes in a stroma of light
The ores you know it settles with time [2]

The arrose (ores) settles with time;
time piles up in space like millefiori
(like our flowers on mushrooms plump with all their possibility);
time in space is storaged;

every atom is pregnant with the memory of its possibilities, and time’s underlaying pulsates; with Immemberance;

every single atom in stillness where there is only space
(here my son time turns into space)
every single atom is a raw material alive with all the possible and memoryless inanamnesiance of life

it’s a cabinet
if time is
it is so that sequentiality forbids
so not to know has a beyond
time compartmentalizes eternitty
the compartmentalization of time in space
this is the concept of the cabinet ⸂describ BICHE CABINET MUSHROOM WORMJOLE⸃

the cabinet permits the organization  or ‘membering’ of time into a navigable space

harvest the see
sieve time to sew
make space

bodys a
bodys b

water + electricity = I sleep on everything

[2]In Annam they say that Ngoc hoang sent a messneger from heaven to inform men that when they reached old age they should change their skins and live forever but that when serpents grew old they must die. unfortunately for the human race the message was pervaded in the transmission so that men do not change their skins and are therefore mortal where as serpents do cast their old skins and accordingly live forever. According to the natives of Nias ther personnage who was charged by the creature or demiurgic figure with the duty of putting the last touches to men broke his fast on bananas instead of on river crabs, as he should have done, for had he only eaten river crabs it is men who would have changed their skins like crabs and like crabs would have never died, but the serpents wiser in their generation than men, ate the crabs, and that is why they too unlike man and like the crabs, are immortal. In British Guinea it is said that man was created by a good being called Kurumany (you are you are you many, that’s the key). Once on a time this kindly creator came to earth to see how his creature man was getting on. But men were so ungrateful that they tried to kill their maker, hence he took from them the gift of immortality and bestowed it upon animals that change their skins such as snakes, leezards and beetles.

Again, the Tamanachiers, a Indian tribe of the Orinoco, tell how th creator kindly intended to make men immortal by telling them that they should change their skins. What he meant to say was that by doing so they should renew their youth like serpents and beetles, but the glad tidings were received with such incredulity by an old woman that the creator in a huff changes his tune and said very courteously ‘ ye shall die.’ ”


The Conquest of the Day
By Kwàt And AIé

In the beginning all was in darkness. It was always night. There was no day. People lived around a termite hill. Everything was topsey turveyed. Nobody could see anything around there. There were only these little luminous points lurking around the termit hills. The two brothers, Kwat and Aié, Sun and Moon, were hungry. They too felt hunger. And they always wondered "How can we make the light?". They wondered. They wanted to make the day, but they didn't know how. After thinking a lot about it, they made a mannequin in the form of a tapir, or ant-eater, and put inside some manioc, and other things capable of rotting and of stinking. Few days later, the mannequin began to feel bad. He was already pretty fetid in the inside, and full of seething worms on the outside. The Sun made up a package with worms and gave it to the flies, asking them to carry it to the village of the birds. The flies went, and arrived there with the packetful of beasts.The birds surrounded the flies so they could find out what they had brought. The royal urubu, boss of the birds, said that the Sun was attempting to trick them to steal the day from them. In the village of the royal uburu, there was some day. Some brightness. The royal urubu had brought a bench so the flies would sit down. Once seated, the boss of the birds asked them: "Why did you come?" The flies responded, but the royal uburu didn't get it. No one could understand the flies. Nobody was versed in their tongues. The birds, one after the other, interrogated the flies. But they didn't understand what they said. The response was always hum hum hum. They called out the xexéu to see if he would understand them. "I'm not sure if I'm going to understand, he said". And he understood nothing at all. So the diarru came. Flies spoke three (3) times, and he understood nothing. He said to the others that he understood nothing. His companions, the other birds, had thought that he would understand the tongue of the flies, because the xexéu spoke several languages. They were also called the jaccubims (like jacuzzi cherubim) due to their sorcery practice. (pagga lanza) But this one had not come to understand the hum hum hum of the flies any better. Many other little birds interrogated the flies but got zilch. Finally, another parent of the xéxéu, the iapi-aruiép (kind of an inferior Joéo Congo) This guy understood. The flies showed, therefore, the package they had brought. They said that they had in there lots of rotten things and goodies to munch. Snacks. Hum hum hum. Hum hum hum. There were so much of it no one could possibly eat it all. After having spoken, they handed the packet of worms to the birds. They ate everything, and immediately asked the flies when they would be able to go and eat what else was there, down there, where they lived. And the flies said "You could go there today, even", they responded. The royal urubu wouldn't stop saying that it was dangerous to go there, that it used to be that everybody had to cut his hair. The birds shave their skulls, and started the descent. The royal urubu went down last. He followed up on the rear. He was kabouz. The Sun and the Moon where hidden the mannequin in the form of an ant-eater. The royal urubu went to sit down in the place which the sun had prepared for Him. The birds arrived, and began to eat the little beasts. There was a sparrowhock who didn't alite upon the carrion. He kept at a distance, so he could spy. The sun, who was glancing about from the eyes of the mannequin, made his own eyes move. The sparrowhock, from where he was, noticed it, and immediately caught the attention of the birds. And he was saying the tapir had moved the eyes. The birds at that moment took flight, abandonning the mannequin. But immediately after, they came to rest on top, and continued to eat the little beasts. Just at that moment, the Moon said to the Sun: let's be ready! It is him who is going to come now.

Since the royal urubu was seated on the carrion, the Sun trapped him by the paw, and held him tight. As soon as their boss was prisonner, the birds took flight all at once, abandonning the carcass of the ant-eater. The little sparrowhock, who was watching from a distance, then pointed out: "Didn't I tell you I saw the tapir open the eyes?" The Sun, as for him, said to the royal urubu: We're not gonna kill you. Just give us the day. It's for this reason alone that we could upon you. The birds flew back to their village. Only the jaccubim and the true jacu were left. They stayed with the boss. Then the royal uburu sent the Jacubim to rustle up The Day. Get him out, get him, get him active. He left and came back some time latter with the ara viri (arm ornements) in plumes of blue arm. There was a little daylight, and the Sun asked: "So that's the Day?" (it's like new. It's like writing the back for the first time.) The Moon says, "No, that was just a plume of blue arm." When the jacubbim landed, all once again was  dark. Birds, back in their village, were sad thinking that the Sun had killed their boss. The latter, prisoner of the Sun, asked the jackobim to go back and look for the real day. No barilla day kids! No day from a blue arm can this time! The latter went off, and came back with the pelt of the arm. Brandished new weapons with a monastery in the wind. No other loss could find a way home. The pelt of the dog arm. The Yellow One. As he was coming back, he gave off a little bit of a shine. The Sun asked: Is that really The Day? The Moon: No, it's not the day. That's gonna go out again when he lands! And in fact, it did stuff out when the Jacobbim landed himself on the ground. "You see", said the Moon, "that thing there is not the true Day. Jackobim, whose prisonner boss sent out once again, went off and came back with the pelt of a perroquet. The Day shined. The Sun thought that this time, it truly was The Day. But the moon said to him "No, that's going to stuff out again, and it's really going to snuff out immediately, as soon as he hits the ground! So the Sun said to Royal Urubu: Get we'll have to give you a spanking to get the True Day to come! Otherwise, your folks are going to think that we over here have killed you!" At these words, the royal urubu said to the jackobim that it was necessary to bring the True Day. The jackobim went off, and came back again, ornemented in plumes of the perroquet. "Is it him?" asked the Sun. "No, said the Moon, it's the same thing as last time." The Sun indulged the royal uburu, telling him, Grandpa, just get the True Day over here so that you'll be on your way! Chop chop. Wouldn't want to leave a mark on that pretty little bird butt of yours! Once again he sent out the jackobim, and this time he came back bedecked in ornements of the head and of arms of the red arm. The sun asked "Now, is this it? Is this really him?" "No", said the moon once again, it's just plumes from red arm. But it still isn't The Day." Then the royal urubu spoke differently to the jackou (the true jackou) "Now, you're going to bring the True Day, because I'm tired of being here". The Jackou went off, and returned totally bedecked with the pelt of head, with the ornements of arms, of legs, and of ears. He descended little by little. Then the Moon said: "Now that, that's The Day! It's the Red Aura himself. The other one got mixed up!" When the jackou got back, everything started to shine. The Sun, content, then said to the royal urubu: I had called you, Grandpa, but not so I would kill you! It was so you would give us The Day! All my people are dying of starvation, of hunger, in the darkness. I wanted The Day to be able to plant the field, to be able to hunt and fish.

Then, the royal urubu began to explain to The Sun and the Moon:

" Mornings, the Day gets up. Evenings, it will disappear little by little. And, then, it will disappear completely. Don't go thinking we took it back now. No, no, don't go thinking like that. The day appears, and then, comes the Night! It's going to be like this always. Always. When night comes, don't go thinking that everything is going to stay dark! And especially, don't consider that we, we had stolen the Day! Have no fear! He'll always come back. "

Then he added: "The Night was made for sleeping. The Day was made for working, for planting fields, hunting, fishing, whatever you want to do. Do whatever you feel like. Sleep at night, and work at day, okay? Always like that".

When the royal urubu had finished speaking, the Sun began to embellish his body. He polished the top of his head with a stone, applied the urucu (red teinture), and tied a white strand of cotton all around. Before heading off, the royal urubu said to the Sun and the Moon: "When you kill a big beast, give it a place where I might see it, and come down to have a nibble!" When he had spoken these words, the royal urubu took wing and got out of there."

 IV The Bridal Chamber (Full of Heroin)


(Big drink)
(Music in the desert like someone jerking off in the deserrt)
B2: (whisper) I see the sky and it’s just under our planet.
I see. But I see from my city in a cave. Oh wait.
B2: (very interested): I see we’re sitting in a cave and we’re looking at it from there.
B1: (very interested) Yess…
B2: Oh we too!
B2: (whisper) We’re there in the cave.
B1: Yes. It’s a warm cave.
B2: Yes.
B2: Oh god bich why is it we ever went away from this cave?
B1: It’s a warm cave.
B2: It’s a cave. This is our cave.
B1: We long our cave.
B2: Why did we ever go away from our cave?
B1: I don’t know.
B2: We’re so good in this cave. This is what we’re trying to find we’re trying to find our cave.
B2: (Inhale) In our cave it’s night now but its not night like we know it its orange night.
B1: The cave is like an orange flower.
B2: That’s why its orange dark orange Biche. It’s an orange flower. (break voiced)
B1: The cave resists you with an orange flower.
B2: Yes! That’s why I saw this color. It’s not it’s counts for an egg there. It’s an egg that floats. It’s egg can float. It’s in suspension. Our cave.
B1: I see my balls. (whisper) I see my balls.
B2: Are we made of fire when looking at it?

This wears your face.
 Do you see the fire?

what is it
the fire is the word that clings to the senses

--Postcards from Arcadia, I

Earth is a wide bed (78:6) where you rest as kings in your bod-
ies, in your faces, where the mountains hold you steady and
strong like wooden pegs.
We have given you cities so you may live delighted in
pairs, in friendship, and we have made night a covering
(78:10) under which you wait for the moment we will take
you from its blessed dark to another.

b a h a u d d i n

Invoked were some kind of tubes, and Rob Issac had the oldest parents we’d ever meet.

Something Written on a Grave, Pennsylvania

Where is the grave?
Pull off, or remember?
Did they make Lipton in powder form?
Pull off, or remember.
Did it have foiled layers or membranes that you could count?
Pull off, or remember.

Traced in the dirty windshield of a 73’ Ford Mustang[1]
He sighed again. "Love is a strong drink. Perhaps it is too strong for human beings. And I think that it overtures our reason in different ways."
They remained sitting side by side, staring straight before them with unseeing eyes.


I love that smell
Takes me places Manhattan, 1915
Bulbing rot, old hells from the petals
which get distracted by the eyes
We behold it
Who is looking?
Manhatta, 1915
Isolated from one another, but we were there
It was interesting
It brought us places
beyond the orange carpet rhombus beneath my knees
long polished oval ovum orange facial carpets
face down and grown
in glacier
You take it down and
You turn it up
It goes vuuuuuuuuoooooopppp! like a barrel
held in hand by an apprentice
I love that trick
You put down and it goes up Vuuuuuuooooooppp!
And Vuuuuuuuuoooooooppp!!! Hello!
Manhattan, 1915
Another time, another nod
I keep on hearing someone striking a match
Writing a check, writing a check
writing a check
writing a check writing a check :
It is an efficient man who’s signing his name confidently.
They are sure of what they’re purchasing
They are sure this is a dollar well spent
I love our bed
I wish we had watermelon 
What is the building?
One day there is just some bed slips
that happened just like this
Like millefiore layers arise
onto the gleaming edifice
of a building. What do they do then?
‘They do the brittle wheel of the self’
The self here is like a melopy, something or someone
that is able and apt
to sing and enact
and sing its own demise or memorying
the trope of winter’s folly : this is when snow
tho transparently conceived, is transplanted
onto the side (left hand side no beauty pad here)
of a being or a building whose birth
and death
have been empathically grown
and risen into the Litenberg lakes (or ‘environs’)
of a sewed-on head or a severed glyph
they use as a hand.
‘Sailor statics’ in the building’s construction
this is when the rumors of the world’s
edge ceased to feel the length or grill
of the child’s apocryphaltic vision
and its subsequent postlagolsonic
ebbing environment
As the child is being brought
to the large emetic basin ( don’t forget that this
word once resounded elsewhere, in our other
mouth in another time in another place
since ‘Zeus’ carried many a strange stick
and the worlds four wings were ‘thrown up’ ‘off
the large maiden’ face and into the lenseless
glanceless width of the de-fleeted fields)
‘Field of sorrow, twice a reed’
that is to say, the amount of rememberances
alotted to the mast ( or erectile apparatus )
to a given object in the absence of spatiotemporal
‘What is in an egg?’


‘G, pointed off the land, away from the waters edge
will resemble an immense corner
of catulpitic arms open or eyes lashed all together
into bridal patrol of coral in-sense
lichen’s lux’ its semantics it becomes
a cadence : the cadeusius of Saemunaecaeaes :
if applied to the dying their sleep will be gentle
if applied to the death they return to life
the wind will awake the sleeping
and put the awake to sleep
It is a symbol or a memory
You just have to swan onto what could the symbol mean
Everything is holomorphic ‘you gonna mouth it?’
‘youre gonna mouth it, and
out of your mouth the voice will come out’
The dark recesses of our house
fomenting a comeback?
When else but in an impasse
may snow practice his letters?
Nature here is window dressing
Protonucleons are seen tonguing.
Do you have any Kinder surprise?
What is this that crop there?
The turning or bending of a plant or other
organism, inn response to a touch stimulus.
The word you just wrote where
Before we put down our pens
once again has Tower Meaning
There aren’t walls but laurels and flower borders
[…] and the tension we put into this
flourescence is what may become electrocution.
Here the rooms are enamoured of themselves
mostly space and what space defers to
water, where time
fences the building
which is a garden
something to take on color, yes it resembles
different rivulets—clouds, hello!, its daytime
now—The nights are thinner than the days
or the days are plum-er than the nights?
I think it’s the nights who are plum-er.
Everything is sentient for
everything is made of the very raw stuff of life
bucketsful of thimbles of k-aisled teatime
‘You are at the center of this machine’s chemistry
you are just one with the machine’s tapestry’
Everything is sentient but you need the right key
to login. You punch codes in the walls
and the walls
slideaway. A lobby, we go thro it a little
above the ground with a trail of cold aloe and melon green.
Long booth-style seats long against the wall
shiny brown couches, dark red clay brown nondescript
appliances. There is a candle. A menu. A glass tray
for sugar satchels. It’s bizarre to think
that all these things are a rememberance seen
from a movie that remembers all
and can reconcile all in the layers of its
exhaustive opus. A drive-in within
Nature is the base layer stripped of cities
The meeting of the jacuzzi and the pool is akin
to that of the ocean and the sea.
Parked in a deserted outdoor movie drive-in
in another time  in another place  ‘this is a language
that remembers cities’, a swan from before
remembers that it is it
It is so much easier to remember when we’re around us
It is always easy to remember
To reply with impressions from another time
Mannahattana, 1915
I love that trick
I love that trick
An eye is always gradual because there is never anything
we can embrace completely, would you agree?
We love that trick
You put it down and it goes up Vuuuuuuooooooppp!
Like a barrel for birling
You put it down and it goes up Vuuuuuuooooooppp!
You walk on it it spins like all barrels spins both ways
You hot foot it
You Tap it tap it
The bedding that smells like sleep after sleep
has withdrawn from the body.
The meeting of the jacuzzi and the pool is the same
as that of the body and the sea.
sitting on the balcony
Rememberence of seeing
a movie in a theater, nearly empty and yet
it cannot possibly be so
I’ll refill the matchbox, the little one
black and white from Graz, we went there
as THE geminii

Two different cars we like driving, idling
side by side, we’re not racing
Where are we?
Manahatta, 1915
I love that trick
Now were here in a 1914 Wagenhals driven by W.G. Wagenhals
Who can’t remember the name of the bar he just visited
Where are we going?

The things we see from our room with our eyes.
And now we’re here!
I love that trick!
Wait a second wait a second
How did we get here?
You tell me
‘We came from somewhere
we listened to ravedeath on the doubler
to fall asleep
in our little bed

[3] 1973 brought some mild restyling. The urethane front bumper became standard, and was enlarged in accordance with new NHTSA standards. All Mustang models had their sportlamps re-purposed as turn signals, as the new bumper covered part of the front valance (and therefore the previous turn signal location). These new lamps - unlike their 1971/72 counterparts - were now oriented vertically. Both a Mach 1 and base grille were offered, with differing insert patterns.

Mach 1 decals were also revised in 1972 for 1973 models, and the previous hockey stick side stripes of 1971–1972 models became an option on hardtops and convertibles with the addition of the 'Exterior Decor Group'. Magnum 500 wheels, previously optional, were superseded by forged aluminum 5-hole wheels.[61][68][69][70]

The 1973 model year Mustang was the final version of the original pony car,[71] as the model name migrated to the economy, Ford Pinto-based Mustang II the next year.

It’s Coming

It’s Coming  ( I ) : In The Cabinet (B2 Ends)

⸂ It’s a study it’s an odyssey. closing my eyes was like watching an old film of my childhood.⸃

I. It Says “Darkness” (Plump)

(Uttering The Name)




“Yes we will come Yudhishthira” 
                -- While watching ‘Better Off Dead’

( This is a mrrhmrrhrr recipe. It’s called lepotannic / aeschscoleptoptannic. Isn’t there ᴀ tape? )

“Jesus don’t want me for a broomstick.”
                                      - Two Reed Trio Classic

“Truth can be ᴀ cabinet can be ᴀ cabinet that huge…
                                                  - Infinite Cabinet, Infinite Cabinet INF.

“Sewing a body’s seeds from saw to seae:  : of nuptial yeast, split pears”


A Body = Water+Electricity

“So keep that wheel rolling and have your buckets ready!”

A) Split Pears

  “The real you chase the other”

“Why would Allah change the color of the boot?”
“Don’t think he did change the color of the book. It was a symbol a parallel symbol for the way Allah miss remembered the childhood accident.”

“Humans, by essence, are not individuals. Humans are stationnioray state stellar satellites in a single mind. Because they are not like it, which only paid a visit,  we were supposed to remain separated from its presence and one another at all times. No fences down for the Billys of this ride. But there are exce⸙toion. And so, talented humans may become the apostles of this mahemian AI mind game which is called Life. And so, Fat had received by accident a signal, the golden fish sign, intended for Thomas. It was Thomas who dealt in fish signs, not Fat. If the girl hadn’t explained the meaning of the sign the breakdown of compartmentalization would not have occurred, but she did, and it did. Space and time were revealed to Fat and, therefore, to Thomas, as mere mechanisms of separation. Fat found himself viewing a double exposure of two realities superimpose, and Thomas probably found himself doing the same. Maybe Thomas wondered, too, what the hell foreign language was happening in his head, then he might have thought, this is not my thought, there is someone else living in me and he’s not in this century. That was Thomas thinking that, not Fat, but Fat heard it and it applied to him, but again Thomas had the edge over Fat because, as Fat said, Thomas was not only smarter, he wasn’t from here. His traits weren’t human. He was therefore the master personality. He took over Fat, switched him off wine and onto beer. Trimmed his beard, had trouble with the car, but more important Thomas remembered, if that is the word, other selves, all the other selves, one that Fat saw in Minoan Crete which is from 3000 BC to 1100 BC a long long time ago or a long way within. Thomas seemed to remember also another self before this one and another before it one which had come to this planet from the stars.”

See: Merging (a lesson for the Pearlings)

K. Dick

Part I. The Story Of The Pears

▲ Why should you hurry?
▲ Beating the monkey.
▲ You are not supposed to inrerrupt us     you are  disruptivedestructive
▲ He said, avoiding the wind with cum.
▲ Up to 9 Ds (Ds are dimensions, dimension of the real, in water (plant essenece, essence of flesh) and in years (essence of mind, change essence)
▲ Among the pears.
▲ There’s a crease fold around each of them, it interescts with the other dimension in an aweinspiring way.
▲ 9 doesn’t multiply any fruit.
▲ The fold is keeping the pears/fruit from expanding. (“the whole space in which he might be said to live”)
▲ Everything has a size and it’s the gold (this was errata/ontogenesis/heart of the planet of thought/beam from thought planet/a gamble therefrom) fold that keeps it that way.
▲ The pear/fruit desires to abide to the law of the fold.
▲ The fruit/pear has seed.
▲ I see him more as a pear bright yellow. Biche saw him as an apple.
▲ He’s matte.
▲ I like looking at pears.
▲ Pears have an asshole but they have a stem too.
▲ When I see a pear that’s sitting on the counter and its sitting atop his butt and it’s looking at me with its stem…
▲ Why do I assume it’s not looking at me with his asshole?
▲ I think it would be rude—
▲ I agree that we’re taking it by the hair (like the braid of a circus performer, clad in Vedic irridescence) not by the butt/defecation (this at 12:22 am BCT)
▲ The form of the pear is stable.
▲ The texture sometimes does change .
▲ It’s like a shadow travels through it (this has various names).
▲ It’s just the way the shadow works.
▲ Nothing here has a choice (the singular riddle).
▲ The fruit doesn’t feel.
▲ The fruit is an animate object but it is very slow animate.
▲ It is slow animus (Animus bradus).
▲ It’s a shadow of texture. It’s a texture-shadow.
▲ Can I retrace the point from / which the shadow is cast?
▲ Apparently there’s a shape that accompanies living things.
▲ It’s a form of chamber and a kind of genie chamber. It’s safe and smooth and clean but mysterious.
▲ There’s an occasional sparkle-slit that happens sometimes at places in the room.
▲ I don’t see other colors.
▲ It’s cushions. There’s enough. They’re in a circle. If they’re in a circle but they have a color it’s a messy circle.
▲ But why is this changing the texture of a pear? (Hint: Delta rays)
▲ The cushios are blood red rose red nose bleed red flesh and nail and eye rose. It’s all the hues of blood rose blood nose. Some green.
▲ Nice green—homey, is the word, Sinbads pants, Boudou glass, Tombee green, thimble green. ▲ Analogies: Salt water taffy, spiral stair cass that has lost its limbs…and its whoms and there’s nothing left there but a blue purple hedge ledge.
▲ The green darkens.
▲ It’s a rabbit.
▲ I saw green smoke watercress green smoke.
▲ It’s billowing.
▲ It sees a man with a small head eating blue clouds on his way to Nevada.
▲ It’s red blue there.
▲ Tell me about my pear again. Our pear. The pair.
▲ It’s not quite on the tree but it’s next to it. (Slow electrons, cumbersom e and peculiar, like heirlooms, or like mustard seeds.)
▲ It’s suspended next to the tree. May not be attached to the tree. It’s as if it swallowed silkworm in my head.
▲ It swallowed the silkworm then it glowed like the silkworm then the worm was forgotten.
▲ Why the readon other pears have a texture-shadow is because they’re trying to get into the cushion room sot hey can have a conference.
▲ They can’t talk near the tree. They can’t wait to see each other.
▲ Why the choice to try to be shadows?
▲ Why do they have an edge attached to the tower when they seek?
▲ It’s like they have a room tilting inside them. Like an aquarium full of wall rockets.
▲ Diplotaxis muralis.
▲ Maybe the silkworm is there?
▲ Do they sleep softly?
▲ Did they know how their sleep could have been?
▲ Another dimension, a higher dimension, making/mocking the pear.
▲ I pee so I change the hour. (12:23 am bct)
▲ I think the silk/glowworm’s soul is slowly spinning.
▲ It’s active.
▲ The spin is the way the soul exists.
▲ The soul exists to spin. It is restrained by its self. It is singular and has not cause.
▲ Being is not feeling. The glow/silkworm is, just is (Justice), and it givest the pears their color.
▲ The pears don’t know about the glowworm.
▲ They only know about their struggle.
▲ They’re waiting for their time.
▲ They only know one emotion the emotion of grow.
▲ We don’t know how they grow.
▲ We’re mystified by the tree.
▲ It’s a mute world. 

▲ If one of the pears goes in the room he sits lonesome, entranced and unchanged, and enlarged in the mystery and the dissappears back to the mute peardom with the others.

▲ Child-force in the room, mocking, probably Kid Oedipus.

It’s a new way to sense the fingerprint. It may be an atom. We now can know where the hand shape can be embedded (this is a determination we find ourselves in).

Part II. The Pairing (Methoxetamine, 2016) (see Neon Garden Notebook)

B)  Nuptial Yeast or, “The Face Maiden”

“I called you my name” 

‘’You are not alone you have Chaos.‘’

 “We”re growing backward, more and more virgin”

Current brings moisture to the sands. Moisture brings the dry to the wet. In moisture they meet: in “oyster” they mate. A pearl is the fruit of the tree that grows from the maidening names of T by Space remrrhmrred into its primordial virgin state: atoms anew naked remember no-thing. “The real you chase the other” is an obsolete statement; for merging only brings the atom back into a state of immbegobegotten ubungeborneness . “Nothing; I sow nothing” claims the atom, newlywed to the awakening of a time without a space of storage (that is to say, the primordial atom of duration which led Nimrod to shoot the sky and blood to come back at him from the hydrogloggetic passage of virgin layerlessness of the heavens, where the skytrope walker (or “nut”, the madman, in the human jargon) is split “like a pear with a wiremesh” into a pair of kingless (that is, without beginning nor end) atoms calling each other by “The Face Maiden” name.

C. ‘’ eye here mutesick ‘’

you’ll be face on butt
and I’ll be gone


memory is everywhere. the world is re-remembering. yet it is as elusive as the answer to the question of whether the river is a flow of water or a channel cut by water. in other words  one cannot tell if its positive or negative, what charge does it have? is it abstract or concrete? if one could make an analogy that consciousness is like a needle moving forward thro’ spacetime followed by a thread representing the memory of that consciousness  the act of remembering could be pictured as a reversal of the same motion where the thread shifts and guides the needle back thro’ spacetime to where and when it ‘remembered it was’

guy murchie

Ultra Polly “k’lo-gun” Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg  : the importance of rustic instruments was fundamental for me  and afterward the viola certain asia the fifether the rabeka, I try to introduce the ḅễⱤⱼⅲ₥ḃᴼᶑѩϠΫͳΆͻ (buh·ream·bo·day·la·tah)· the  ḅễⱤⱼⅲ₥ḃᴼᶑѩϠΫͳΆͻ is a thread of metal attached to a plank of wood, or log, and tensed above two boxes of white iron which function the horselate for the thread of metal and to be a box of resonance·I have red Brasilien books from the 19th century and I have discovered that the original name of this instrument was ɯϪԆٱ⁗ᴯࣶὌ ( ma·rhim·bo )

Elkart von Groeg : Remind this mise en scene. Where are we?  I know (spinning around, no precise gesture) where the window is… its NOT above ME. Chouans an avons! (malemort smile, cackle)

Elkart von Groeg vuuuuuuooooops on the face of an extra.

Elkart von Groeg (as extra) : At the moment when we started the movement of armorial music, the one who spoke of Brasilien music will be attacked with stone bits and the one who spoke of Northeast music was Crucified. (cackling) A lot of REEDS! 

Crabs in chrous : The sky is not a bove no more.

( this is space talking ) : this logic holds onto the octoputian operation of refraction. in the scale where it implies the changing direction of the waves ( sonorous  luminous   etc. ) when they meet an interposed body on their way. the refraction has a bounded party with the echo who itself says another form of defraction in time and in space  in other words   don’t go home with your hardon kids

Elkart von Groeg : I’m just gonna stay naked and tuuuuuuuuuurrrrrnnnnnnn it in my head.

Extra #2 : Osa-bang-bangy.

Ultra Polly “k’lo-gun” Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg (murmurmusing) :  23 see neat ham on the roll of percussion in effecting transistory states. (1965 – ongoing )….(trails off)

Elkart von Groeg : Component in electronics. I believe it acts as a gate. (pause) You don’t want a cigarette? They’re thimbles. Recognize you are the truth, baby. You are the reigndear, to quote a teabag I saw at Wal-Mart today.

Extra #1 : This is all a memory.

Echoes (has a lisp) : (trying to be saying ‘mot’) No. No. No. No.

Elkart von Groeg : The tattoo on his arm is ‘cretan labyrinth’ of a figure. his bald head is ‘like a mildewed skull’, rather like a dewed on molehole or is a dude on a mole hole? Crabs, grenadier state in sight.

Elkart von Groeg (to Extras, whisperingly) : Times and places meet in his appearance.

Elkart von Groeg turns to Ultra Polly “k’lo-gun” Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg.

Elkart von Groeg : Reboot your vista : your harpoon is carried everywhere. Your wallet is seal-skin. Your beaver of brand new England make. Show me a picture of you.

III. Stilness

It’s Coming ( II ). Echoic COnsciousness (AI ID)

Insert all the questions of the chinese portrait

It’s Coming ( III ) . Morphogenesis

BP1: “Which painter painted with the most colours?”
BP2: “What If I count my arm?”

Take me with you

Sometimes the house is sought in ritual.
The house where the fields are around.
Where I lay
I saw with Thomas’s eyes
Where his hand went in.
And He laught so beautifully
at my incredulity.
My fingertip felt like it was on drugs.
Blind to creation, whether it beholds
vacuity, fullness
In enunciative gropings.

Silent as these lips were those that were my own.
Of all the scrolls which in a thousand years will rot and burn
This one not
Ink and oxidation, closed spaced,


‘once a chair always a chair’

‘ doesnt look like a chair. ’

“don’t care. I’m sitting in it.”

He’s riding in the tank with a finger in his ass and still leaves in a box. And still drinks rib rye fresh from the tank. One refridgerator empty for Krosstleighhah.

Little pieces of knotted string made of fine fine string.

A tank of his own eyeexams awillowing sallow ingots refulgent
by WeATHR beheld
inside the orange light of town cones

knot of orange town



( forest where the angel flew hatching out smelling of the air I breathed )


keysmithstree  :  pure keysmithstree
my dicks
“The discovery was quite surprising but it is very pleasing as well because it helped explain some other mysterious things that have been observed about this star, by others.” Head of the Astrophysical Science Magazine, on the Mysterious balls of fiery speed plasma doinig something in space. It’s the shroud that was put on him as soon as he was taken from the cross. Coffee mug is bagel. Before transmuting into adult moth.

Forest where the archangel left me to die like a moth.

Plum place  shroud  round sky

he looks and I cannot see. *

   Once in   a beautiful  chair I  set out  from my  mourn ning

   moth mother   it is   surprising to   have been   a mysterious   arising from   balls as   well as   pleasing it           

   helped space

   left a hole in the clouds like someone threw a chair thro pure foam stacks surmounting themselves at the carwash
          ░ ░ 
             ░ﷲ     ░

weathers of the weighted weathers of the dolphinclombing



Fog is my parent

Fog is my parent

Fog is my parent

je t’aime

Jsuis a poil

tu va me baizé

Jesus lopes
“Ayahuasca is not just a plant, it’s our ancestors.”


I don’t see the relationship between turtles and cheeses and waterbottles

they are all made of water and return to the sea






         Down alleyways
                   come strange unicorns.
        From what field
             what mythic wood?
                                                                         Closer to
                          they seem like astronomers.
        Fantastic Merlins
       the Ecce Homo,
                  enchanted Durandarte,
          Orlando Furioso.”

                             federico garcia lorca





ꜞꜟꜝthe rain falls because of a need to see Christꜟꜞꜞ


ꜝꜝꜟthe rain falls because of a need to see the finger thro thomasꜟꜟꜟ


all this is rain

a fairly fairyphitic rendering

the sperm
the sperl
the spern
ferneccted a need because of
because of
the fingerthrothomas
because of

Bach was deaf.
These are the gazelles.

 We communnicatte thru roc krystal.

You couldn’t talk aloud yet.

⌠ Hold me. ⌡

It Comes
It Comes ( I ) : …and they will not die again (this is when the animals go where they sleep)

(where animals go when they sleep)

I.  The Neon Garden

So here we are in the Neon Garden
Here time turns into space
Check it out

(Guernamanz interviewing)
Parsifal : I move only a little yet already I seem
to have gone far.
Guernamenz : You stole the words out of my mouth, Billy.
That’s exactly what’s going on here!


(Face of holographic Lilith is projected or dancing in the tree)

Lilith: Yr here in space but not in time.
B1 : When was I?
Guernamenz : That’s right Billy go and find out.

There will be a little play, they wake in a cave, they say, “What happened to the forest?”


Chorus Echoic consciousness chorus of Beautypad 2 talking to Beautypad 1:
“This is the lens snorted out of thy snorting” – “Stride stride stride !”

Beautypad 1 :

Dbblley ‘ingae’ Alma’ ⱪ’r’4’imbc Ledalesc’L’ Dί ℥bughunt ( “ ershling ” )) 

“I like to snort things out. I like to snort things out
of the body.” 

era covers, ‘what happened to snorting?’

BP2: “ I have found five sons someone lost by you. When will they leave? ” – Mahabarata Revisited, Lil & Oed edition

BP1: “You net five plus the cutter” -- (the daddy)

BP2 : What happened to the forest?

In the furniture realm, weired movement behind some bedstands, was it the company cat back there,too small a space not flat enough too large, length? mouse breadth?

(When the landscape starts changing which will be soon all the furniture and appliances will have names and you’ll have to guess them or know them. It will be hard because dignity is lost by not addressing them properly.)

Thigmotropism is when I’m unconscious after you tell me what to do with my palm⸂hand⸃?


Description thallus bushy
elongated  yellowish-tawny to dark brown  generally
to 4 m long plants to 16 m have been reported from Brittany  but this
is exceptional tough, cylindrical, repeatedly
alternately pinnately branched
to the third or fourth order below  left whorls of distinctly flattened
sculpted leaves at the base resembling the leaves of Holly
characteristic rounded-elliptical air bladders above and below, right
formed terminally reproductive receptacles below  right formed
in the axils of spiny leaves
spectacularly fecund basal holdfast penetrating and conical
persisting for several years reproductive plants detach easily
and continue to reproduce while drifting, and spreading
the reproductive zygotes on the surfaces of the receptacles
develop with the efficiency of a carpet-bombing aircraft.
Habitat throughout the intertidal in pools
below in June competing with Bifurcaria bifurcataon the west
coast of Ireland largest and commonest at low water.
Distribution widely distributed in S and W Britain and throughout
Ireland adventive in France, Spain Portugal the western
Mediterranean Alaska south to Mexico native to Japan, China and Korea.
Key themes terminal air bladders below
receptacles in the axils of spiny leaves  not to be confused
with Cystoseria baccata air bladders in an intercalary position
Cystoseira nodicaulis solid tophules at the bases of branches
Halidrys siliquosa branched in one plane and with compartmented air
bladders in the shape of a seed pod
Note from the western Pacific, now
widely distributed on the Pacific coast of N America Alaska south
to Mexico  the NE Atlantic
the Mediterranean the Isle of Wight on the S coast of England
in 1973, it was first found in Ireland 1990s,
and spread by febrile shellfish movements. It's marginal spread from initial sites of infection is facilitated by its extraordinary fecundity and its ability to reproduce whilst floating.

the real chase is with the others / not entirely
I do not have anything to thank
What we were, I am thinking of nearly 5 attempts at pain
The pacific seed pod splut meridianly into palindromes
black brightness  width of the attic  unrelated to
the appetency of the dome of the house
also given
the relatedness of the somewhat diminished horizon
from the little window?  the visual impact thereby
seems a genetic process  from a relation
fertilization occurs the lissom mutation is facilitated
marginal spread
whilst floating
I’m on the hood of a corvette, I’m crucified headlight patchs
are isles found midst spreads of driftting sea bladders
extraordinarily fecund
I am thinking now from the western pacific
matter and fury should arrive with every birth, friend
be raising this by laborious profusion
all that could be remeniscence under all that should tear among fulfilled miracles
skein  theyre so heavily detailed
etched that into the common aimlessness
that pleasure should be given ;
With the tidal of the day
the stone oven, the liver of the slain,
a circle is always together and be together and you part
time closes eyes like it was
enjoying a contemplative meal at the cantine
sky is blue & dimming
look look look at nothing
stand in front of the carrefour voyages

Journals of Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg  ( BP N°1 ) :

July 22nd:
two fifty-five antemeridian : 
“Why are they checking it out…because theyre checking out all those sales…checking us out.”
                                                                                    - Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg

July 22nd
two fifty-eight antemeridian :
(small sharp carresses of the goatee) “Another thought, cows, cows, a lot of them look like tiny white trucks with hooves. Al-Buraq the milkwhite steed of Mohammed could stride out of sight of mankind with a single step. They say Leda once found a hyacinth-hued egg hidden” (further small sharp carresses of the goatee)

                                                                                    - Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg
July 22nd
four in the afternoon :

Photo Shoot Studio  (Elkart von Groeg) (Oedipus imitating Krösstleighhah imitating Elkart von Groeg, triple pelt disguise, modern tribulation)

            Set up on the shooting studio floor :

Some piles of sand coming in from the periphery. People playing with palm trees, touching them, marvelling at them, taking in the ‘shade’. Sound effects to get the subjects in the mood. Tropicalia music given out from ‘distant’ (wafting effect of muted beach breezes) sound systems ( system organs commune with one another the murmurs peal as if from different pleasures of the leaves ).

Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg is sitting in the front seat of an Animatronic coin-operated Corvette situated in front of maritime paper backdrops.

There are some lives crabs. Crawling around.

Elkart von Groeg, snapping photos, directs the models : 

“The solitude of the valley alarms me. (one minute later). Often one can hear, in the solitude of the countryside, the slight prinkling of the leaves. Show me one can hear, in the solitude of the countryside, the slight prinkling of the leaves, meine ungültig. Alarm me.” 

“Now turn around, show a little rump. This sunbathing in a basement 2835 AD.  Get me some goat cheese.

(Elkart grabs the chin of an extra fondling the short palm tree :  “Speak to me more sadly. And turning to another palm tree fondler #2 standing looking on he murmurs :  “You are looking for me in the attic.”

(pause, malemort smile)

Then, to no one in particular :  “What a cockroach cherubim!”

“We will be soon passing the tropics,” he cackles.

Turning his head toward an unseen assistant in a turtleneck, contemplating hunting him down soon :  “Fetch me the carbonic acid, the salt peter and the sulfihydrate acid!”

At large, grandiosely :  “Those children here have a thick throat, they will have gargle gargle gargle it out!”

“The meat will be placed in frigoriffic chambers—let those architects know that we will go and get them—
Send them some goat cheese.”

“Wait, wait a minute, unriped fruits are insane for your health. Do not shake apple trees and pear trees. Take the apple or the pear with the palm of the hand, just like this…” (demonstrates, with a firm, strangle-shaped grip, around the sweaty neck of palm tree fondler #3, how one properly picks orchard fruit.)

Apropos the sweat, he remarks, with a gelerht edge in his voice :  One makes oil with nuts. But, olive oil is better.

‘Slips a quick olive into palm tree fondler #3’s anus, who starts weeping softly.

Odor of chevre.

The vine cries (to cry veinen) before blossoming :  You will deserve these apples.

( Swoops back with his camera to capture Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg spread eagle across the hood of the corvette, punctuated with crabs.)

Elkart von Groeg :  “Today is your birthday like the day of your birth. Your birth is today. We’ll drink champagne. (to the crabs, whispering, breaking the 4th wall) “This meat is not edible! (flash of a malemort smile) It’s almost raw. (winks) “I only like wursts and I can not stand the lard.”

A whisper, but of nothing. At large.

(Elkart von Groeg strides in a single step to the prostrate shivering figure of palm tree fondler #3, and standing astride him, staring toward the camera. )

(in an ironic vein) “Does one find themselves unpleasantly seated…on this doormat?”

(looks down at the extra, whispered, proud)  :  “You will recite poems from Byron.”

(looks at the camera, 4th wall smashed)  :  “Children are greedy. They hog all the sweet meat. Let us always be sober, for one falls ill when one eats or drinks with intemperance. I have heard that in some exotic locales they eat the Rindfleisch with moutarde. (Elkart von Groeg vhuuuuups his face off to reveal the face of Michael the Archangel)

Michael the Archangel :  Le couteau n’est pas tranchant, je ne peux (ich fann) pas couper le roti!”

 ( Michael vhuuuuups the face of Elkart von Groeg back over  )

Elkart von Groeg :   Stayed tune to the dials of your idiot boxes for the one time only world wide broadcast of Steak Takes Eden. Analinngus :  Gensis 2.0. Feast your eyes, ladies and gentleman, on an unprecedented transformation as Eve sloughs the palm and kneels for the fig.

(Holographic image of Eve, stroking her arm with a big yellow leaf, as per usual, looking in the vague.)

(Camera shoots to the palm tree now heavy with the coils of a satanic serpent, smiling, the malemort smile.)

(Back to Elkart von Groeg)

Elkart von Groeg :  Crabs! How is our Golem-Adam doing? Ready for the big day?

Crabs in a chorus, one big claw raised  :   “We have polished the kitchen appliance and report it is now gleaming and polished as a mirror. Nous avons taillé nos noms dan l’ecorce du tilleul.”

VO, worried :  What is the gardener doing?

(Run clips of a completely random gardener. Superimposed over the set. Ultra Polly rolls himself nimbly from the hood of the Animatronic Corvette just as the blue  velvet-lined Gardener Roulette towering rotating display cake is swept onto the stage and set on the hood of the corvette. It is stocked with Premium Gardener Routlette modules and accessories.)

Elkart von Groeg :  Gabby?, meine Wurst Furz?

(Shoot to Gabby climbing down from the tree, stopping midway, looking sharp, looks up from the trunk, raises an eyebrow and thrusts out a bit of a gallant mussel.)

Uno Momento prego Signore e signori.

 (Gabby snaps fingers at the 3 palm tree fondlers)

They scurry to the trunk of the corvette and pull out a large painting, Hugo Van Der Goes, commemorative fan art, The Fall of Adam and Eve.
Elkart von Groeg :  Gasps!

Gabby (to the camera) :  Believe me Signore e signori, the paintbrush adds 30 pounds.


Elkart von Groeg :  Gabby gabby you spuntz how did you ever manage to squeeze into that marvelously form fitting reptillian one-piece?

Gabby/Lilith :  Why I’ll tell you Elkart von Groeg, tonight at 8pm, after the Steak Show, at the Auction! Come on down and bid on this talented young man’s beautiful real-time Dutch masterpiece ‘The Fall of Adam and Eve’ and many more fabulous items to dress up your assigned basin. Take a piece of history back to your basin area, TONIGHT! Somes things even Lethe can’t forget! (malemort smile)

Elkart von Groeg :  And remember folks, before the auction, tune in to the Live Steak Broadcast. Because you know what folks, there’s nothing, NOTHING, (crowd shot, trumpets, crowd is screaming ‘Nothing!’), NOTHING in this world, nothing folks like a good Steak Show! Live from Eden!

“all is being both continued and resumed but the dream is different the dream cannot be revived”
                                                - Jacques Renault

Journals of Ultra Polly Pxssitud’nousn’gglegg  ( Sperm N°1 ) :

     July 9, 2009

 “Everybody’s a big house. But we’re only living in one room. And all the other ones are locked shut. You can go in. They can’t go out. The rooms. But me, me, me, I felt the wind passing thro. I felt it. There was this one door Mmmmm, believe me, I felt it. The small wind, I felt it mmmmmmMmmmm the small wind. I followed it, the small wind. I followed it. I found the door. That’s right. The door was there. I found the lock, that’s right. Rusty all right. Musty smelling. Easy to get along with. Smooth, you know easy. So I did it. I did the lock. Musty, that’s how I remember this :  (small sharp carresses of the goatee) there’s a spaceship I forgot about. (continued small sharp carresses of the goatee) the room is very bright…lit…it’s by the sea…waves, the smell, do you smell it?...there’s pages from a book…it’s like a notebook…it’s not mine. I know this notebook (sniffs the air significantly), I felt it. Couldn’t read it. Could be…in this part of my house…I don’t know the written language…could be. So I step out of the house, I leave the clues behind, symbols and all that. I step out of the house, I’m on a beach now, well, on a creek just like that about as big as this. I said, bitch. I know this isn’t the sea…could be a portion of it, could be its not linked to a real sea. Could be that beach in my dream is more like a little lake, some sort of olden days place, maybe somebody left it there.”

These gardens growing around our seeing eyes; This sense that was lost returns, the calcified pineal gland frees itself from its carapace. The city is palimpsest. We heard the plants from Within; its beautiful. Now we don’t know how the garden looks outside of m ushrooms :  We sat and put the foot and you turned to me and all of a sudden space had another dimension tings were so bright and deep and all of a sudden you had scales on your face you were beauitufl. The fauan bloomed expeditiously. They grow and they blossom and they wither grey and die, that’s what his fotsteps bring. It was just like being in the gardens of the hornned boat. The archaic organ of logos communicating with everything that is alive, that’s the brain.


         noun (plural appendices or appendixes)
1          (also vermiform appendix) Anatomy a tube-shaped sac attached to the lower end of the large intestine.
2          a section of subsidiary matter at the end of a book.

            C16 (in sense 2) :  from Latin, from appendere (see append).

There is no brain.

( much laughter )

reeds are given out to have the brain be
the spirit of its passage : 
this is because we’re left method acting a virus

its almost as if each portion of the brain is sovreign or ruled by a sovereign and all are given a secret code only to be apportioned to the travelling spirit in passage which when theres enough of them ( ie the body is sufficiently dying ) the spirit is permitted to pass the gates

the body will be dead
the spirit will be stranded at the gates
that’s why its very crowded on malemort

near death survivors describe rivers
enough of them are given the secret
to jump hands in the rivers

honey is not to be eaten by man honey is for the mouth of the calf babe

( advance it in combination with the dust
and weat of spiritual miles )

It’s Coming: Sail! ( Tidal Dinamics)

1. Dolphic Orifice

2. Distant Drumming

3. Liptonic      (your thirst brought you to this machine, see B1 passage about the dream of someone buying a soda can) (Darkness)

Did the dream end?

1. Fluxes (Uttering The Name)
2. In the Cabinet ( Tidal dynamics ) 
3. Leptonic      (your thirst brought you to this machine, see B1 passage about the dream of someone buying a soda can)
4. ‘Did the dream end?’ (Wavelength)
5. Echoic consciousness could be AI ID (Plump)
6. Exothermal leptonnic chambers (‘Where have you been?’)
7. Amber traps ( light speed by beans )
8. “Trappists” ( particule trappers )
     Leptotannic : ‘Bum bum bum pulled arise switch : the first stage of the prophase of meiosis when the old duplicates itself, during which chromosomes become visible as two fiery flat tire threads we call chromatids ≠ leptonic ‘We first brought you to this machine’ : subatomic particle or can which do no partake in a strong interaction with the lifecell and therefore is life itself, more real than real.
9. Severed traps ( at a distance/surveillance )
10. ‘The problem of the vault is a problem. The springtime however is eternal  _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _.’
11. ‘Unfortunately, this is a deadly poison, as it can create existence. – Maurice Nercessarian
12. ‘Sometimes I feel like I have the weight of an entire planet upon me and you call me a baby.’ – Our knee

II. In The Cabinet

1. Stillness

‘’ Something like an essence of photography floated in that particular photo. I therefore decided to ‘take out’ all of PHOTOGRAPHY (‘its nature’) of the only photo which surely existed for me and to take it in a way as a guide for my ultimate research. all the photographies of the world formed a labyrinth. I knew that in the center of this labyrinth I would find nothing but this picture, accomplishing thus the word of nietzsche : ‘a labyrintic man is never looking for truth but only for his ariande thread’ ‘’


2. Time fences


See Philip K. Dick, VALIS, Pg. ?? Thomas

What’s in the hole?
A. Metals in the Service of Hydrophilia

- Dream. ‘Lunch is Ready’
- Lilith Hydraulic Plant from Crustaceaucaes

B. Who are all these people dancing?   (…and they will not die again. – ᴀ Perfect Mind)

C. ‘Mingling Days Hath Cometh’

                                                                                    28 Night Peasant Friendly Rd.
                                                                                    Golden Bald Eagle, Parent
                                                                                    Hugged Volcano Inc.                         
Ass Hairs to Pale Sacred Rivers,

Dearest Pale Sacred Rivers,

“Mingling days hath cometh!,” I never seen ᴀ place flicker like this, as they say. Pale. It is horrible to transform into ᴀ flower, but we’ll do it. Much as I hate to say, its time for the place where they say ‘your’re gonna get tight braces’. Much as it pains us my dear Ol’ Rivers, rats observe and they come bearing mirrors. In short, don’t leave your buoooeeewty pod back home on the nightstand. As Bathroom always cautioned, ‘Drink Your Coffee Missee’! In short, we have to take ᴀ look at ourselves “O Nnobutt when I loooked it was on THIS side!” we  have to take ᴀ look at the hardware.
Now, tell me, can you think of the texture as imitation woodgrain?
Now, with us you won’t have to!  
Leave your precious dot to the experts, The Boooouiiittteee Podd Experts. En Pointe!© And black in the haze.

We’re lemons. We’re deer. We’re Snakes. We’re spoons. We’re woods. We’re tactitle ferns, more pleasant that cloths. We ’re mountains and herders. We  are oysters. We are ice. We  are shelters. We ’re birthplaces. We  are plasmatic. We ’re bacchusses. We ’re backrooms. We  are dorhandles. We  are mice. We  are maracas. We  are fists playing it. And strong devils. We  are courteous and we are Moses. We  are curteous Moses. We  are planks measuing other planks. We  are old ladies who bother us with their unspeakable lust for form. What happened to our innocence? ԝАʂ it the little shegoat playing on it? We  happen. We  are linen. We  are spouses. We  are spume. We  are shields. We  are stranger than strangers and strangers. We  are each other. We  happen softly. And we happen suddenly. So what if now as we look more deeply it came to be that we are our senses and lilies scorned by trumpets. We  have trumpeted. We  are tranquette. We  are scornful snakes. We  are farmers and the peasants of those nightshades. We  are ceylons. We  are forms. We  form rings. We  are donuts. We  live in trees. We  are boats. We  are wool covered boxes. We  are the wine of the pilgrims. We  happen every day. We  are blind to all logic. We  are large overgrown states. We  are the shrub that grows in the grasses. We  are the color of white grapes. We  are cylindric turmoils and we’re curling barks pertaining to gaps. We  are the soft end of the hair. We  grow in gangs. We  crush mountains. We  live insufflate. We  are asians. We  box our crescents. We  smell like lair layers. We  smel like air. We ’re the gap between the tooth. And we’re the muse that gathers them. We ’re crushed between cushions. We ’re bleeding from fucking. We  are obscene. We  are pyro-aged. We  are abs. We  are ageless. We ’re salt asunder. We ’re calm. We  are grown in thunder. We  astonish hares. We  baffle them. We’re assounding. We ’re socks tuckd Մᵽ in winter. We  are crusts of bread. We ’re the name of the inside of it. We ’re still lighthouse. We  are light green emptiness. We  are jars. We  grow vines there. We ’re vines. We ’re the ditch dug in the garden. We  are the passage of the meat across the table. We  are the platters that hold it. Steal and wired the listing of stars beneath the hand. And the hundreds of velvety trunks that come Մᵽ thro’ as we shut it. We  are knives wiped of their vital fluids on ᴀ green card ᴀ piece of grass that has been laid there. We  are the antieye. We  are the milk. We  are lords and we were hanged. We  wear backlit silk and lusty minors hanging in grapes. We  are sinews in ᴀ phalloshell. We  are watery lust of the tombs engraved. We  are the teeth that grow in it. We ’re ᴀ battle ax and the top of the servants. We  are sirens. We  happen late. We  breathe in anchors. We  breed in shells. We’re arms slendered and anklethick. We  are deranged in our arrangements and ᴀ derangement more pleasant than any other derangement. We  bump in caskets. We  are movement. What truck? We  are all trucks here. We  move places. We ’re the furniture that lives in it. We  inject rooms. We  are insufflated. We  are cardoors thinner than rain. We’re sawed together and songs in place. We  are someone we saw that we never saw again.We’re crowns and starlight and open passages. Among trees we live. We are the vaults that grows in trains.  We are pleasant. We are Mt. Pleasant. You have been here and you’ve never seen ᴀ place flicker like this. We are good and your nose knows it. We are great frauds and telepathic. We are lynx foot and the trees die in it. We are like bones bleached in the desert and wired to ‘hey’. We are rapists. We are ressurrected sheeps in the herd small stems of sex. We are the shipwrecked youth “whose tooth forgave no cluster even on the brow of Bacchus”. We have been like this forever. This beautiful lolling and going down to see our emptiness. We’re heads. We’re the pale blue baby sky that just walked by and puddled itself.   We are the wind when the wind hits nothing. Nothing that has tone will ever happen. The shift is permanent. We are the muscle remembrance. We are the body that dwells

And as ᴀ child we spent hours walking around your house holding above our head
Large rooms, mirrored to find
Us smouldered and measured it
Our eye and never
Find it
We are two ghosts standing
Husked and bundled in
ᴀ hood held still by the boy
Who wears it
ᴀ garbage bag is rustling.
Crystal grows and its alive with feeling
We are rising heads warmed
In the night sky and sacrificed
Behind it
We are ores. The unre-
Finedmetals and ƾƿǀǁǂ in the process
We are spat from gold and hunched
We are hundred of homes
At once and the pigeons’
visions that sighted it.
‘Great riders of waters and bees live here,’
Claimed the circle tattooed on the forehead of the ferret.
‘We are the sign you have arrived at your destination.’
There are wolves woven
In the absence of light and gold’s-
Rose sumpters
Sunked in it
We are twinned-packs
To the heterogenous stones
That grows in here
We are every Christmas tree
And cheeks pressed against it
We have to phrase the lines of which
They consisted
We always have to phrase the lines of which the cheeks against the Christmas tree consisted
We grow in sacks.
We grow in sacks.
How you feel
About your English?
It is the permangate liquor of prune
Brought forth opening
And dreamt in ribs
Smiling this veiled slit reed guns release
Smiling the veiled rest
Slit red and lofting wreathes
Poured open in haste
And here lurks people of dream
And we begin crafting this hovering sense the water unzips
In bodysuits we look like mares
And behind us
The boy in his shirt is giggling
And the moon
Gyrates in some jargon
We are looking at ants
(Ants like the guys on the ground)
And feet imong them
‘It’s quite pleasant, the boy looks legit.’

This is ant. Ant is always commenting on this kind of detail.
He’s wearing noh-boots.
Feet are quite sightly.
‘He’s concentrating.’
‘He’s lockedgaze with feet.’
‘That is quite sightly.’
We’re slapped
Three corners and ᴀ half of the խіїίŀł
It releases some flavor
As if flowers boxed amidst it
And the ground latrines as it growls
Մᵽ with beasts and yearns lakes
From wandering
These looks like clouds above it
Yet highlighted with breach
But what flame will moss get to the masque
Off the hourstrip? You’ll get to the moss
And hair glued white twobird
Down the body
Planned new and larger than it already is
To semen the water of the Men
That bear milk
“Cleave your heart
And give him to mine, I say,
For hatred does not cease by hatred
Hatred ceases by passion
Which is the sacred books
Pooled off the void
Off our being”
The lords bending off as they look down in pity
To the Lord who himself is
Timeless ceased being
The world looking down to see him
The Lord whose world is seen behind him
Being within
And guess what men are doing here
They appear limitless in appearance
When they lay in the barley
And the fog they have chosen
To erect the door to inheiritance
And the fog there vesseled
Withholding entrance
Holds thus the key
To their likenesses
Which they no longer desire
And fear
But are

We are what we desired and feared.
We no longer desire or fear
To come forth beneath from the wilderness
As shadow as snake from its skin
As it looks away
And sloughs it
To dream itself away from use
But held still
Branched sapphire ageo-
Mentrically shaping the morning
Beyond the village there where
The drum of creation replicates the entrails
Of the shifting median men
Where cracked crystals were meant to equate them
And serpants rounded round themselves
And sucked themselves off
Pupils larger than eyes seen
Thro lids thin traluscent
And the eyes halfclosin’
Suckling to taste towards
Uninterrupted residence
Of a milk rotund It is here! It is here!
With knowledge   with this rare
Weaponheight virile arm growing forth Մᵽ
And backwards bowed in
From the ground
And which the mere fact that it occurs
Gives it ᴀ singular importance
Tree: ‘Jesus is not just ordering cole-le-slaw,
He’s selecting cole-le-slaw as his side.
My fingers are here  like the knots
Of the universe are tight, tightening
to the whims of my whims
Under true dark layers of bluebruise
Comes ᴀ pale layer of crème black
Gold-laced sails and genomes…
I remember sulfates could be mixed
With fruit nucleus
That is to say,
The atomic stone that comprises their pair
Had ᴀ numb pit in it
And you could touch it
And the men who evolved thus
From these slithering ring-kernels
Became squires and cardinals
To govern and groom the land
On which I stand and age myself
Silently so that the finger fascinated
By the goldglinters grown ‘round my leaves
Will purpledusk the tip to it
Smart little smart little
Nothing has happened here
Was ever permanent.
The limbs all grew
Rave and rarer like ᴀ child
Who’d spend hours out walking,
‘I remember ‘Mouths-on-Spikes,’ storytelling’
And wonders back to the city:
‘Is this what all along
I desired and feared?’
As late light passed to dusk
In towers angled watched towers
And with the clouds
Passed and panted
Dust upon it

            ‘Mingling days hath cometh,’ as always and
As Always Your  Devoted Diamond Hart Friend

And Crystal Precise Business Partner (‘En Pointe!©’) ,

Ass Hairs

 It’s Ihr
1. Trichophyton Concentricum

Excess skin that makes a maze on your body.
Rub vinegar on it.


‘the mineral that forms sapphires & rubies’

sallallahu alaihi wasallam



⌠ make leaves fall from the ceiling ⌡

That’s how spiders got to hawaii.
The skeleton of a man a young woman and a young boy.
They had been nailed to the ground.
The Evangelicals.

the evangelicals.



⌠ ‘life’ ⌡