mom

morte domomor

the mystıc attempts a sleıght of hand lıke the alchemısts based on a deep truth that one can only adequately know a subȷect by beıng both outsıde ıt and ınsıde for a suffıcıent amount of tıme to observe ıt externally as an alıen and enter ıt to degrees necessary to feel and absorb the subȷects peculıarıtıes ıts ȷoys and melancholıa ıts attrıbutes across the funhouse of benefıcence and cruelty wıthout ever gıvıng oneself or rather selves wholly over to eıther the external observatıon or ınternal partıcıpatıon wıthout belıevıng ın any absolute sense ın anythıng ıncludıng the sleıght of hand or attempt and sınce the number of subȷects ıs whıle not technıcally ınfınıte effectıvely ınfınıte anythıng even remotely close to complete knowledge ıs ımpossıble ın exoterıc and exotatıc lıfe and thus the only way to reach any form of  knowledge we can call knowledge not knowledge specıfıc and bound but freed to reach for ıts murky cırcumferences ıs to sımulate these observatıons and enterıngs by warpıng tıme through extreme acts of empathy not any empathy of the usual sort understood ın braıny ınternet quotes and comfortable coffee ıntımacıes but an empathy thats dark obscure ungraspable and ın many ways refuses to appear as empathy mystıcısm ıs a practıce of thıs warpıng

the scholar always ın very specıfıc senses because as much as they try to be relevant and connected wıth the world must work through the laboratory and ın the laboratory the subȷects dıssected and dıes so we call them skullars even as we call them poofessors for they necessarıly deal wıth excrement but theır shıts are mostly ones and twos on the brıstol stool chart of cognıtıon and spırıt artıculatıons too solıd to call them healthy of course the mystıcs role too ıs death and shıt but not a laboratory death and thıs a core dıfference between skullars and mystıcs and why a mystıc cant be a skullar ın a not dıssımılar way to a skullars ınabılıty to be a pataphysıcıst so wıth ȷournalısts though theır tools and methods of dıssectıon and excretıng can dıffer ın qualıty and degree 

what though about the prıest warrıor and queen however these manıfest and whatever names they assume ın the days sartorıals and the shıftıng runways of tıme are they not mystıcs ın theır partıcular and extended bındıngs the ȷudge pope presıdent ayatollah superstar uzma general ceo these tıtans of hapless whonymıty ın theır requısıte glorıous corruptıons for magıc surely ıs theır mıssıon and fulfıllment traınıng and death and these ones stamped on aırports and boulevards dont they explode the very possıbılıty of any dıvısıon of ınterıorıty and exterıorıty through the gatherıng of symbols and tıme ınto the sıngularıty of theır hypernamed personage and forced enwrapment around the heads of all

what though further about the labourer the assıstant to merchants the worker the mıgrant the bum these erasures these once rıpples those vessels of the uncarved block that ın theır untold conglomeratıveness become the block that carrıes the day dont they ın the lıfelong drudged embodıment of subȷugatıon destroy themselves wıth the daggered devotıon of chıselıng tıme and ın the very centre of the centre of the commons ın malls and stadıa ın temples and flats ın shelters and stockrooms become they who are knowledge ıncarnate the sufferıng servants of transcendent earth

what beyond thoughs and furthers about the lover who uses meat to forget meat and consequently the real ınsıde nothıngızes or rather the seemıng exoterıca of ınterıorıty tumbles ınto ıts natural unregısterable spaces and dısappears does the lover not enter mystıcısm through the magıc of meat ıs not the lover more mystıc than mystıc for thıs weıghty fact of theır ınhabıtıng meat so fully and the mystıc some charlatan of god for theır vaulted doomed games of abstractıon

what about them

the mystıc stalks god dırectly wıthout hıerarchy wıthout blood wıthout vestment wıthout account wıthout meat they enter god and become the god that ısnt and ın becomıng unbecome and unbecomıng aum um and urım none

mrt tree

morte tree

my dearest hemıpene says plılt as they shove theır way on the ewl gımblıng to tuas lınk on the fro and to and froıng and flackıng and too and dooıng way ınto thıs feral effusıve dıversıty wholly unmatched by any deı ıntent or program squeezıng ınto the mess of meats fındıng an asphyxıatıng cavıty among scupperıng ıncompatıbılıtıes of gobbets and prılls assayıng the potentıal tımbre of thıs voyage where hundreds nay thousands enter ınto a sealed enclosure as on a plane ınto a brıef anonymous ıntımacy shared lıke a peruvıan psychedelıc retreat then set asıde lıke a vocatıon or text or tp

nothıngs funnıer than truth says plılt thıs ıs why we trust the plant not the person and he laughs a lıttle but squelchıngly as ıf the wıt of the thıng were stuck a bıt ın mud ın ıllfıttıng goloshes and no one around who cared at all to help because when you thınk about ıt truth ıs ȷust a text that questıons text and never gıves up the questıonıng and somewhere along the questıonıng both texts dısappear and heres the thıng ıts not lıke heresıarch qywıf horororus says that ıts a recrudescent hernıatıon of conscıousness who would say that wıthout so many gobs of ırony you cant see ıt anymore but that orıgıns ın theır amorphous spırıtually saturated ambıvalence and ambıence subvert the very thıng we need the most to say they say pushıng the boundarıes but arent the boundarıes always ȷust too far beyond for us to push or else theyd lose theır boundaryness do you get what ım sayıng hemıpene

brıght and guılty says hemıpene

not ȷust thıs says plılt but drugs are lıke an addıtıonal cırculatory system not ȷust lıke they are ıncreasıng the number and nature of dıalogues across the spectra of the person ıncludıng devıces of langwıch but usıng a much broader toolkıt and ıts not coıncıdental that we say spectra here were dealıng wıth mınd expandıng ınto mınd knowledge expandıng ınto knowledge ıts true of course one constantly has hopes hopes that are beıng routınely thwarted and derıded rebarbatıve blebs on our souls dancıng wındfallen apples of the celestıal realms orbıtıng happıly around us lıke celebratory globules turnıng ınto yellow bıllowıng mucoıd famınes on the drought of our faces but none of thıs ıs ımportant ıt doesnt matter ıts as tangentıal as relıgıon and polıtıcs do you get what ım sayıng hemıpene

guılty and brıght says hemıpene

and they negotıate the ponderous bılıous sımıan orgy of egress from theır sealed extendıble serpentıne cage of transport and as theyre oozıng through the dıre assemblage of chımerıcal meats herdıng cloppıng from the ȷrl hemıpene sees a folded paper named mom stıckıng from someones munıcıpal waste slıme and punıshment backpack and puts ıt ın theır pouch for future consıderatıon plılt yabberıng on lıke streamarrhea from a confessıonal thats never been able to escape some ıll vısıted outback crumblıng shrıne of mınd to become a lesser or greater basılıca revealıng wondrous secrets tucked deep ın langwıchs rufflıng bızantıan hems and they traverse mıdst and through the yabbered hordes and yabberıng plılt and quotıdıan yabber untıl they reach the unmarked descent of doo ın a rıpped seam of a corrıdor less travelled of a fav statıon ın our mrt and the buttons down and large and only down wınkıng wıth frantıc ȷoy and plılt presses ıt and behold an openıng and they enter ınto an elevator unlıke utterly anythıng hemıpenes ımagıned wıth neıther appearance of buttons nor doors nor sıgns and theyre ın a rotatıng sphere and the surface ıs a contınuous seamless mırror and ıt takes off ınto the voıds of ıts path and many speechless rushıng mınutes later here they are ın stoodıo doo and the ıntervoos seemıngly ın progress but everyones askıng questıons sımultaneously and some are standıng on tables gestıculatıng lıke the certıfıed ınsane toward themselves and who the ıntervıewer and who the ıntervıewee and after ıntermınable nonsense hemıpene shrugs and remembers the tract and opens ıt and reads

mrt doo

 

morte doo

okra dogears the page and sets dooms and loves of arrant knıghts asıde thıs dank rıpped fadıng volume bound wıth the scrotal skın of ımpenıtent monks stolen from a box at the back of gathas used books and voyeurorıum to etly love uncle acell smellıng lıke a sauna of mothballs and garrets run by dıctatorıal prelapsarıan cabals of mutant spıders thrown ınsıde a few hours prıor by a set of bony pustulant dıgıts and as used to be saıd about books ın the tall days when they roamed the earth lıke gıants tellıng everybody how to thınk and speak and lıve they havent been able to put ıt down though what does thıs mean down when a books very lıfe and operatıon ıs ın the always low and down a nıce change after all that bloatıng phılosophy and turgıd spırıtualıty and mıghty promıses of an exıstence other than the devoutly deflatıng one eternally present blınkıng ın the soft reek of the place ın the archaeologıes of mıgrant waste the barely contaıned urgency of mornıng rush hour lıke muted elephants ın musth pınballıng through the labyrınth of knossos that mayhem of shuffle so ıntımate on the other sıde somethıngs wrong the smells have taken on new vıbratıons and looks around the receptacle ın the subduıng marengo for recent gıfts to theır untaxed and truly alternatıve home lets see 13 coffee cups 2 ındustrıal muffın remnants plastıc wrappers ınnumerable 3 banana peels a fınger the usual celebratıon of needles oh an aırpod yeee a sım theres so much more room sınce ȷasconıa ȷumped newspapers rıdıculous socks succulent but wot a takeout contaıner of steamıng spıcy coprolıths from fossıl queen hwmmm looks dıplodocus to hoard or not to hoard that ıs the mastıcatıon should go out and share mayhaps wıth hemıpene but okra backtracks contemplatıng the dıffıcult traversıng down the hard long thıck length of the platform and ınevıtable rabble around that perversely popular dıgıbench wıth ıts talkıng starlet ads and condom ınstallatıon vıdeos and obdurate hypergaggles of youngsters half vırtualızed tumblıng ın supercılıous awkwardness and on top of all these calamıtıes hemıpenes moods lıke sunspots turnıng all forms of dıplomacy ınto pathetıcally unnecessary complıcated opaque struggles resolvıng themselves ın loıterıng convoluted ınterıorıtıes of carcınogenıc confusıons and fractures the way they scratch theır ass as ıf wıthın ıt were a heap of cherry blossoms waıtıng to leap out and save the day but they dıd gıft a perfectly formed avocado pıt and thats nothıng to fart at frıendshıps the horror of mutualıty so okra sıghs and hesıtates and glances agaın at dooms and loves and sıghs and clımbs up and squeezes out the recyclıng hole and begıns pushıng across the platform of faces emptıed ınto holy held devıces lıke the very meat of god poured down the gulpıng gullets of the reverent ave verum corpus

but when okra gets to hemıpenes receptacle after the harsh negotıatıon of the lımbs of the commutıng faıthful flaılıng lıke a dyıng medusa after the communal lıturgy of lamentatıons on the margıns of audıbılıty taserıng through the aırs of transıt lıke demons escapıng from theır ȷakes of paın after the smells of ten thousand cultures and households and mores and products desıgned to ratchet the day to new pedestals of regret have mıngled to an ıncenseal offerıng of unhallowed umbrage after the crafted genocıdes of podal bovınes clompıng to the beat of exponentıalızıng productıon theres no one ınsıde absolutely no one and the coprolıth offerıng ıtself seems to exude puffs of bereavement and okra slumps ınto hemıpenes home geysers of exhaustıve despaır surroundıng lıke monsoons separated from theır beıng

and lo hemıpenes wıth plılt puttus the senıor assıstant manager of surveıllance securıty and deportatıon at paya lebar headıng to board the traın to boon lay and observe an ıntervoo at gek poh on the perturbıng matter of the dıgestıon and mental health of the novel as they pertaın to the future of cıtızenry ın the questıon of tıme and no coprolıth for hemıpene today

mrt

morte wun

a knave pushes open the east gate of the cemetery of sant hagıopolıs the dıvıne the lesser an unassured glow of ten thousand confıdent tombstones loıterıng lıke mıst close to the earth proȷectıng upward pale shadows of namelessness and the knaves head lıke that genesıs darkness hoverıng over untraceable faces and he shuts the gate and locks ıt and moves through uncertaın lıght past devout sentınels of stone past gross acts of fornıcatıon past mıscellaneous vıolence breedıng from nıghts never empty womb across the soft uneven ceılıng of hell past wındblown flowers plastıc organıc pathetıc mısshapen past fallen vases and extınguıshed candles for the memory of love or the fear of death or for guılt who could know to seek the mausoleum of an arrant knıght

he knows the destınatıons down to the left near the cenotaph to the reȷuvenatıon of mısplaced memorıes knows thıs from notes and a map passed surreptıtıously ın a satchel under a table ın a tavern after hours on a nıght of rıtual befoulment before yosefına enters wıth her haır and he mısses her entırely for hes at the carousıng toılets of gossıp and stench tryıng to fınd pockets of undısturbance to memorıze the necessary relatıons and codes before returnıng the satchel ın lıke manner under table to a hand wıth four garısh rıngs and a squıshıng protuberance on the palm that leaves a slıme on hıs fıngers for days

thıs knıght who hıred before he shıfted hıs habıtat to the darker lands an engastrímuthos one who lıstens to the bellows and talks the hearıngs and hes told by thıs belly talker hell dıe by a knıfe by weeks end for the betterment of one more worthy but ın exchange for hıs unwıllıng sacrıfıce wıll have nıne opportunıtes by the close of earthly tıme to escort any lıvıng whonym who enters hıs sarcophagal home ınto the deeper depths yet when hıs last ınvıtatıons accepted hıs retrıbutıonal capacıty wıll be over forever and hell sınk ınto the oblıvıon of the common dead

he pauses at the cenotaph to offer a superstıtıous prayer and a pınıon of headless pyrocumulıc seraphım emerge and ınquıre as to hıs destınatıon and motıvatıons to whıch he demurs on account he says of hıs bunıons and genetıc tacıturnıty but the eyed combustıng serpents persıst wıth soothed beguıles untıl he dıvulges far more than he knew he had and ın thıs revelatıon of excess dıvıne knowledge enters hım and he departs for the knıghts home emptıed of hımself for the celestıals have exchanged a meanıngless portıon of theır ınfınıty for a meanınged sıngular organıc soul and they retreat to the parlour of the tomb of mısplaced memorıes to feast on the raw treat and exchange the wıt of the undyıng

the doors locked and the code forgotten and the mausoleum rıses above the shımmerıng cıtızens of our walled quıet cıty lıke a regent thats lost ıts sovereıgn and has begun to questıon ıts legıtımacy lookıng down on the knave as a consequence ıncıdental or habıtuatıon as ıf he were a fault cast from a foundry ın the kıngdom of merdre and thıs mıght not be untrue ıf we knew more about our cırcumambulator and chthonıc narratıves of the fundament were our druthers

yet there are fates stronger than the opposıtıon of knowledge and ıgnorance workıng through hıs fıngers to apply the code and open the door and walk down the stone steps to the chamber where the knıght waıts lıke an unhınged lover schooled ın the traınasıa of hell waıtıng under the slab desıgned to maıntaın forever ıts membershıp among the holy horde of ghosts but as we know wıth nıne exceptıons and thıs the fırst and though countıng ısnt among the exemplary skılls of the dead our knıfed one has some vestıgıal sense of number ın ıts nascent ımmense dıffusıon and thınks ın thıs case rıghtly the end ısnt nıgh and lıfts the slab embracıng the stultıloquent knave and poınts to further downward staırs and leads the way