certain forms of intelligence have nowhere to go in society this present society for its own presumed good as its structurally configured and enforced must continually transform those intelligences into production but they to be themselves eschew production so where does intelligence go? it goes where it came from and in a sense never leaves being a subsidiary of nature conceals itself in excesses of itself which appear to the uninitiated if they appear at all as offenses
why does ı write?
· to avoid suiciding
· as society as its normally constituted is misaligned with ı and ı to fill time
· ı like it
· the process of waiting for writing which is most of writing is replete
· to manifest however partially and obscurely spirit
· to dia log with other seemingly likespirited whonyms in desert bars of spime and tace and through these conversations participate in the esotatic and thereby see god and die
why write so obsessively though?
· same reasons for death is powerful and how else does one of the frail living meet it as an equal but through energies that simulatedly match it in vigor and material
who the night who rides the knight tonight?
my fortunes are as ill proportioned as your mind
why does not heaven turn ash or with a frown undo the world?
ı aspire to a failed artist a fartist an artailure artâılûre
woiwode voevoda voivode vojvoda
voevod vaivode wojewoda voyvoda
voyevoda woywode
vojvode
ı autoexclude myself in the name of the quest of nym to seek for inclusions that birth in my removal that sort of activism those politics ı place in the undesired places all the ı of ıs and there go to war with the teeming phantasmagoria that drone over the virtual hills with great pomp and hisses taking manic selfies under bloody tattered banners of love
sadoogags
jokester1 why doesnt granny ı take a dot?
jokester2 we all are dot
tragedian we take dot for granny
an âr̂t̂âîl̂ûr̭ê migrates into margins with uncertain knowledge of scales that weigh vast and distributed ıs that its migration has nothing particularly to do with justice balance equality or even necessity neither with sadomasochism or sacrifice virtue nobility stupidity loss gain but if anything a love of geometry perhaps instilled in the emigrant by a wayward dream presented haphazardly across numberless rubbed nights the margins let me tell you are vile with unpinned life so succulent with taxa of unhingement that any investigating biology would devour itself with maws of mawing all your troubles and bumptiousities and kinships here on their heads and rolling and the lonely sad like forests when they first saw the whonym seize the turd from the tree of why in the burden of eyes not that were promoting anything
we might in other psyches in finding ourselves emigrated hope for some however vague identification with the remnant diaspora of nature but this would be too much rather we dream of simulating an otherity that we ourselves once were or might have been and in this dream neither vacillate among the presented types nor emerge defending any third or eight or middle way
the desire for nonrelation
the styles with which voidists create spaces around hopedforabsence
if history has any purpose which is doubtful but possible it might be to eradicate prophecy yet in historys present splice has prophecy become more necessary and unattainable than ever
but melon husk u dont hav much cloo uv da whirld
cars and houses that dont exist are sold all the time
in fact primarily whats sold in the world and you sell is what doesnt exist
politics like business and war has always needed poetry for use whereas poetry always knows its uselessness this knowledge in the spaces of a poem and whether poetry needs business war politics for its uselessness this a question also in the spaces
the silent unseen living
the seen the babbling dead
stick the polenta up my ass baby
this is a safe place baby
stick the safe polenta up my safe ass baby
were safe babies baby
polenta my baby asshole
stick my safe polenta ass
polenta polenta polenta polenta
baby
so asssafe polenta baby stick baby baby
