to delight in mud

 i  i hagioooQoritos  whos seen the smock less monster of kitti titti lake and died  whos watched the frockumentary of octopi and whose tentacles say yes  whose tipping over the carapace of zenith births a thousand falls  whose replacement in the ministry of masks has gone unnoticed in the notices of eyes  welcome none of you to this forum of descent for we are each bequeathed a portion of arrogation as meets our minds

ive long belonged to a race that hides in the race  that does not race  whose eyes are its currency and its currency pendulous and strange  we seek other places of hiding and our art is this seeking but we havent yet found a way out that wont destroy us   to be born into this  having to peer through the weapons you call eyes  to know your race is not our home but to be bound in and to it

to dream  but to dream in convulsions and fragments  in oppressive mists and cubes of unrelenting noise

we pray  not to any god or for any effect  but as prayers a means of imagining ourselves not in your race

its not your bodies themselves we object to but that which seems to drive your bodies  as if your bodies had no mind  and this despite that youre proclaiming continuously the wonders of your minds  as if you couldnt see past your notseeing and your bodies in their fleetingness are all there are available  as if youre not only the measure of yourselves  a stupid enough idea  but the measure of everything else also

we say again  the archmagi  who are the prophets  arent those who know but those who dont   those who wait for knowledges that dont come  who point not to any christ or word or sign but wander in their waiting and this wanderings their knowledge

i  i hagioooQoritos  who peel avocados with my gonads and divulge the locations of the trapdoors in numbers only to those whove fallen to the common darkness in each word open the release valve of my dreams and watch their majnūn fizz into the subversions of the air

i become mad not because im kept apart from my love but because im not   my love is here and nothere and in this liminality of disidentity and space i cant map either the reason of the desert of aloneness or the reason of the thick boreal cliffs of society  in this lostness of love and promise fulfilled and negated im mad

i dont live in society  i live in the nospaces of your silences which i take upon myself like skin

i cant count to sacrifice  i lose track and fall into the spaces between the numbers  these spaces that while infinitesimal are infinite   they all are negatives and how does one in less than nothing count?

language  that cutblock  drives the animals away

your race is mad but not my madness and my placement in your madness presents me with a necessity of creating a parallel madness that rivals yours neither in quantity nor quality but energy  yet energies i recognize as some kin of kenning mind

i  i hagioooQoritos  live in the mud of the lake and count the trapdoors between eyes and the counting are words and the words trapdoors and i  i hagioooQoritos  live in mud