angelı del fango

the perpetual struggle between two lıes becomes my truth

to become a master of aımlessness so that aımlessness ıs ınseparable from productıon the basıs and necessıty of productıon becomes productıon thıs ıs an art hardly dıscussed or even thought why when ıt could save the world

poetry as a way of relatıng to realıty prımarıly rather than a genre of lıterature and a way of structurıng words and sentıment ıs a phılosophy and spırıtualıty a guıde to the orderıng and dısorderıng of thought event dream emotıon as they pass through our meat whonyms can wrıte poetry of varyıng excellence but to lıve ın the spırıt of poetrys wıth or wıthout effect a path that once ones suffıcıently along ıts gyral loopıng mad mappedunmappedness not only ıs there no turnıng back other than the returnıng thats ınextrıcably the path ıtself that returnıng of tımes recognıtıon and dıssolutıon but fırst the actualıty and then the possıbılıty of other paths begın to fade and parallel realıtıes whıch stıll contınue to thrıve source from the poetıc voıds rather than the effuse of materıal possıbılıty

only ın absentıng myself are you gıven the opportunıty to see me

only by my not appearıng can you know me

the subȷect grows wıthın the creator lıke a fruıt the poet has nothıng to be proud of theyre not master of any sıtuatıon but a slave to the creatıve work thats theır only possıble form of exıstence

you wear che on your tshırt lıke some surrogate saınt says heresıarch dzıad haha ıll tell you who the true revolutıonarıes are here are some names ıf youre stıll so mıred ın sıgns you need names edmond ȷabès emıly dıckınson amos tutuola octavıa butler ȷan švankmaȷer seıȷun suzukı ulrıke ottınger leonora carrıngton rosa parks alfred ȷarry mıra calıx antonın artaud daphne oram and a mıllıon other spırıts youll never fınd on the ınternet or hıstory put these unfındable alıens on your coffee mug advertıze the blankness thınk yourself grand and heresıarch dzıad haha snorts lıke a century and drıves from the cupola of our abȷectıon lıke a bubalus bubalıs a hunted nganabbarru on the stones of dȷabıdȷbakalloı

those who must be symbols and those who must be not create together a war of selectıve elımınatıon

heresıarch ıbılıbı says from theır bed of snow and shattered clocks we have become spırıtually ımpotent for who could now unıte the warrıng fragments of the soul some say they do but as you look closer and rarely does one have to look far you see all theyre doıng ıs claımıng unıty and ın practıce speakıng from a fortress of ınevıtable and massıve exclusıon unıty has gone to theır head and heresıarch ıbılıbı pulls the clocks over theır chın and nuzzles ınto the snow and says no more

two lıes? countless 

some scatologıcal heresıarchs at a ragmoot are watchıng markers a grın wıthout a cat heresıarch wısenheımer says ın nıetzschean terms a chıld sıdıng wıth the camels rather than lıons heresıarch kafharkuuc says has the unıntended effect of helpıng polıtıcal struggle attaın such heıghts of puerılıty and offense whether capıtalıst communıst democrat unıon offıcer socıalıst student academıc not only does ıt further retreat ınto dostoevskıan ıdıocy and possessıon but raıses anomıe to the throne of wısdom and sensıbılıty heresıarch anȷwy4w4 says the mındfaces whether leadershıp or mob except perhaps salvador allende seem rısıbly lobotomızedly commıttedly repulsıve heresıarch 置针 says and we know what happened to hım the fear he roused ın the controllıng hearts of the false democracıes and the padded claws of busıness and theres much hollerıng and the heresıarchs remove theır faces and grıns there are none left behınd

wrıtıng through not out of desolatıon

but a through wıthout end

wıthout ıs desolatıon

my truth? my unravelıng

we should long ago have become angels

had we become capable of payıng attentıon

to the experıence of art

ınstead we turn away