one who writes one who is written we who are
texts and texted and little more and oodles less are enclosed within a
formidable fence, free inside but forsaken beyond – not that we stand in fear
of an inquisition but rather face all kinds of unpleasantness in everyday
persecution, careers of all definitions closed for the only power that holds
the keys is easily offended
sadoo diaper sits on toilet of itself
swirls of words coiled like morality flush
broken
smells
of myself heaves of ass
(alt.wit
can: 1855)
so diaper sits. and the sitting itself sits.
and in our zoo of olfactories and signs we gaze at по́шлость ду́ши with petite
reprisings
from these pastiches rev bonobo rises from
the sun’s uprisings irises siring saying –
he’s one of those types who wants to save the world
which means he participates actively in its
destruction?
flies everywhere, owns a car, eats mammals, goes ecovacationing in
the tropics in winter – all the socially sanctioned hypocrisies
while he talks about carbon footprints and animal
welfare
the genitals win again
if only our upper mouths were silent and our
lower ones said what we really think – that is, how we behave
he recycles
ah. that virtue
he owns a bicycle
freedom now says louverture has pitched its
tent only in the bicycle
uncomfortable
like riding without the seat
what i don’t get is the apparent disconnect between the opening
descriptive paragraphs – if that’s what one calls them – and the present
dialogue
the groin connects
the groan connects
when texts don’t make sense it’s due to the reader’s
lack of imagination
lacking unity, progression, sense or context, it loses some of its
potential effectiveness
the point of language is not communication,
not human relations or society, hardly understanding, not even anything human.
your not getting is the getting
i get that
you want either something simpler or more
complicated, you don’t like bricolage
don’t tell me what i want, don’t tell me what i don’t like, don’t
tell me it’s due to
don’t tell me don’t tell me
shapes of mind … currents passing through shapes
of mind … like a colour scan of moods in time the moods of mind the moods of
mind in time …
