die prrrrr die'a'logs xxi

it’s a jolly day in literature’s undone pub. sun shines like a rabbit’s ass. winter, drunk around the corner, cackles in a heap of dandruff. 1 2 7 0 uff. revs and diaper round cold forges ring. mistlejam gets its sleigh full of tritium and thorium-233 to drop down unswept gimmes of ymess. all is holey, all is blight

art says mangetout

art says bonobo though toke and quantum semen are both fine emboldening chaps but perhaps there are elements in both that are now aging less well than expected, for they both existed inside meat and boneheads, and we're not quite living exclusively there anymore, are we? for example, in an old favourite here, we detect a strict anthropologist's sensitivities, attributing human actions to local cultural/religious values and superstition as any good materialist would but there is also a failure to pursue or locate a more subtle, nonegoic material source for these tendencies, as at that time one (even those who climbed the tallest mountains) would have had little inclination that scientific and linguistic tools would not only cut through the roots of religion but ultimately go further and locate material sources for these experiences that point to a horizon of new rituals. but like any individuals that see the snakes inside and have them come out in ink or tongue, these boys are too flippant and multifarious, running madly in and out of too many dressing rooms to be sorry victims of the hallucinations of any one time

art says diaper is art or may not be art or is not art. or?

art says bishop is structures of losing, semblances of disaster

child of humanity says ezekiel what is the node more than any network, or than a branch which is among the network of the network of networks? shall data be taken thereof to do any work? or will humans take a pin of it to hang any device thereon? and i will make the internet desolate, because they have committed a trespass, saith the ietf

art says blake is your turds singing halleluwah in a swirl of unflushment

art says play-doh is a functional subterfuge of substantive dominance

art say the nlt 43.2-97ers is no longer the dominant force of evolution. our political, economic, and biotechnological policies may determine our future, for better or worse

art says v wii heaven be praised for solitude! i am alone now when the storm crosses the marsh and sweeps over me where i lie in the ditch unregarded i need no words i have done with phrases how much better is silence

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diaper dialogues xix

here we are, sitting in poetry

there are things that are important beyond all this wordle

like eating?

poetry is eating

poetry isn’t eating

science will genetically alter poetry to be eating and eating poetry

that’ll be boring

the announcement will be exciting

what’s the difference?

between announcement and important?

between poetring and eating?

poetring’s the image of the cake and eating’s the cake

eating’s now imaging

not when you’re imagining not imaging

this is far from eating

a visitor from nlt 43.2-97 visited me once and on nlt 43.2-97 one’s nutritional feeds are linked to poetic input and output – the more one produces and consumes good poetry the more one is fed

so the best poets are corpulent and the prosaic masses emaciated?

except that nlt 43.2-97ers aren’t as singularized as we. excess feed is shared through something analogous to mycelial networks here, which can channel for example surplus sugars in a paper birch to a nearby needy douglas fir. everyone weighs exactly the same taking into account differences in bone mass and other core variables

do you get visits like this often?

blake, ezekiel, and elizabeth bishop came for coffee and absinthe the other day

how was that?

ezekiel and bishop didn’t like each other

it was probably the absinthe

the point is – this isn’t poetry

what is it? – it’s not eating

it’s those spaces between that aren’t anything but graze everything

aren’t they poetry?

the cracks and rubble of poetry

the zone where one desires poetry but instead – sentient radiation

it’s a question of the usefulness of uselessness really

everyone’s now expected to contribute to the downfall of the world, through active exploitation, passive participation, protest bound through necessity to the forms resident in the active exploitation. poets defy this expectation – not (initially at least) through any intent but through what seems an accident

any time an unwanted group challenges society’s cherished forms it is seen as other and consequently stuffed in culture’s garbage, recycling, or composting bins. heretics – and there are always heretics for there is always a sacred – have been hated from the beginning of recorded time – they’ve been ostracized, exiled, tortured, maimed, butchered … poets are just heretics without any religion, politics, beliefs, paycheque, institutional credibility, taxonomic confidence, consistent structural realities, oneiric healings …

… play-doh was right in this anyway

play-doh can be formed to make most anything

as poetry

as the forms in the forms

it’s almost dawn

the sun oslo rises

sons all souls eyes is

the announcement of suiciding earnest

time for breakfast

fiddletoads and wildepoes and halfheads

what’s not to like?

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