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Untitled

Maybe we could
be lithe with the music
be in its
unknowable tones
as substrate
For ever
diasporic
as valve
skin tip & shank bone
Be instruments
instinctmeants
of agitant life
from whose
corner cones
breath would push
to inadvent a practicum
with vegal nerves

Untitled

Glance off the flow blocks
Reconvene on inner edges
Consider that ideals
come through to us from
our strategic denials
Decide again to chip away
at the authority babies
of distilled popularity
Recombine our selves anew
as kindly vulnerable rejects
Sip at water iron and flame

Untitled

Grab loud grass
at the hub of wires
that gulls
transpierce in
a glad of cut cloud

Untitled

One by one
The news is spread
One to one
The news
The old news
The same news
One to one
News repeats
One by one
It spreads
The news enlarges
One by one
One to one
Who knows the news now?
Everyone knows the news
The news is blue
The news is within us
One by one
We suffer with the news
One to one
Souls alone
Souls anon

Untitled (Sun Ra)

The cosmotic flow frees
foe time
into an a-temporal
unmoored existence
No way back
Say bye-bye
to the human capitals
Be lax in the blink
of a sonorous high

Untitled

Trawling for
suspended reason
in floats of
running away
The yard of bottles here
The lash of tongues here
Words all spittle spent
their transivity tailing off
into untroubled accents
& deaf belonging

Untitled

Bourgeois choice
Lingering colourful
content with time
and tide to spare
We rent
are rendered
to flare up
at reeking sea
A hull turned over
a whole hill of
desperate hilt
swimming to
a land fill shore
with used eyes
& some putty phrases
with fallacious fear
as time concertedly
runs smack out
an amok of muck
along the silver lining
of delimited change
Be best then
to sell
(to the bourgeoisie)
our barnacled psyches
our saliva lubes
our nausea stub
our concerned hours
our split second chance choice

Untitled

Hitter bored dumb of
the militant same
the sane
narrowtive logick
that beatz off poeticals
while calling for
New Language!
Let’s then pisson received
wisdom ‘pon
deceitful transparency
& defume appearances
as apprentice politicos
call out against
New Whorlds
Let’s disoblige ourselves
of such enforcer idiocy
sound-out realations
and gouge out
this commandeering
eye-language

Untitled

As I march
through bland
I clock people
who look like
other people
and I blink
in awe of them
their survival
en masse
unmessaged
unmassaged
in their mission
to survive in
an unkind group

Untitled

Thirty minutes to kill each
load and I work for
fourty-four years and here’s
the spot they come out of the
gas chambers before the
next process of cut throat
of bleeding out into a bleed tank
that takes two minutes and
fifty seconds to bleed out
before plucking starts next
to the red gushing river near
the feather tank
The challenge
being not to contaminate
the line speed of humanity
in the quick succession
evisceration hut

Untitled

The sudden
despairing traction of the
statistician rips the
results into two bit
dead letters to terrify
overseeing avatars
with an existential offing
of their inner stencilled void
A sudden torque of
had-a-fuckin’nuff rebellion
is sufficient to alchemise
the non-act bind of
knee-jerk words into
unsublimated yelps
(geste-ick-ullull-actions)
of rallying pain

Untitled

For an end to the rockets
and figure feeds
landing in the
open air prison
of a people’s mouths

Untitled

Danger! Uninitiated upheavals!
Danger! Unreified leisure!
Danger! Gutted language!
Danger! Occult instability!
Danger! The drummers are coming!

Untitled (Henry Dumas)

The ark of bones
ought to slip by
in a disembarked sky
disseminating probable
wishes that defy
probability and logic
& positivistic hatchets
So, see it come to life!
See it go!
See it whistle through
the moon washed trees
It is here!
Slender and aware
tender and unphased
by the crawing of the
categorical has-beens
It will land beside you!
Vicious in its hunting
out of unconscious insincerity
Caressful in its healing
of our everyday lapses
those sore gaps spawned by
our double consciousness
The ark of bones is here!
We no longer ‘ought-to’ do anything
We are no longer a figment of our sad imaginaries
Yearning brought it here!
Suddenly, without thought,
made by all, with sourceless
triplicate unsourness
surrounding it

January-August, 2014

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