Great Works:  home archive

IV

the preferability of having visions to
three orders of magnitude
notwithstanding and heretofore insisting really quite
coltrane going blind through the forest of
venison which when tasted proved
and other flitters rags of recollection sans substance
so that we turn to the sewage collection industry
as a suitable outlet for our talents
boobs though are smaller after her sixth op than
heaven sent into good old blighty
deft flick from the corner flag
smiling benignly from the oil of his franchised coat of arms

the superiority of tin
over other metals being in its
higher malleability and allround graveyard autowreck association
bang in the middle of a tradition
that stretches from locke to henry ford III
'aesthetics to be determined but under the sign of entropy
that is to say free gliding between strata of consciousness
for purposes unknown some sort of mission
entrusted by whom unknown for purposes as heretofore stated unknown'
thus the paranoiac of whom more later
note the elision of logic in final codex of will
morbid delusionary logic of system immanently developed
kind of hogwash whose field of force
electric dipolar moment in excess of
delusion

always expiring
forever expiring
though strangely stronger
for the destruction

to not immediately have recourse to other
frenzies discoursed by many a ghost of your night
holding vigil in the tents of your swamp
reservoir sighted five pumps man them
idolatry of your vicious delusion of kinghood
endless time loop coronations on the astral plane
strangling through the ether wires of defeat
hopskotch on the marble tiles of grammar
and other savage barbarism perpetrated on
the hours the mores the eyes the loan shark the awe
disingenuous breakfast on beckham's legs with pg
savage the blind above the pound store
wreak havoc on newtonian shopping compulsion

to not have done with drawing breath
to not have done with not having done
to have done nothing without having done
to no longer be doing what one has never done
such is the simple message i bring forth from my gullet
with the fish skeletons of your day
the chips the ketchup the rocking horse the polish eyes
not to see the basking eyes in the grass
nor to see the eyes in the traffic lights
nor to see the tunnels through the eyes
nor to see the seas in the eyes
nor to see the rock sample in the eyes
nor to see the magma in the eyes
nor to see the eyes for the eyes
or alternatively the eyes for the soap in the eyes
these are to be deemed whatever
it's my soap
but forth from the eyes there emerge a crysalis of eyes
eyes of oyster eyes of shellfish eyes of octopus
and these may gladly devour us
it is fitting
in a breath

so draw the sword on this my side of idea
lance it through the algebra of its incarnation
turn it over in the light of your surgical lamps
commit it to the lunatic asylum in the name of healthy ideation
lance corporal might be a suitable designation however
never thought of that one to the breach
an uncertain though hesitantly unhesitant proneness
in a word suicidal
forget me and wipe out my
oh nice to see you grandmother i'm not

to have done with not having done
with auschwitz shopping carnivores traffic lights there vampires
shopping precincts hairnets crochet needles conditioner
soup tureens even in the figment of your excised byte
and further immanent proof of the existence of microsoft
so that in the end you say stuff it
down the coaxial cable of monsanto
plug it into the surplus value effect
and hey you've got a society of morons all on tv
cells encoding cells self-reflexivity
even turning time in a loop
(as in goedel's construction for low-density star enthusiasts)
which is the whole purpose of this paradigm

unable as i am to conjure up death
in the microphone the mushy peas the cup of tea
or any other tags of a resolute will to live
having adumbrated my chaos in my chaos
and through my chaos found order in the breath
the girdle the crutch the database the cap
the good news the bad news the bathwater exiting clockwise
i have decided upon the following course of action:
to entrust my manuscripts to the hands of morpheus
to wreathe my arm around the eternal siren
in the eyes of the daily mail
in the bicep of ernesto iglesias
in the smile of zsa zsa gabor
in the belt buckle of clint eastwood
(fine forearm tattoos available at low prices)
and other available wigs
and to practice deception at low cost
available on remand or otherwise chained to his nun's habit

schools of alcohol solicitors travel agents latin liturgy
through the empathy of my sympathy
with special reference to the utility of your timeframe
scudding the dreams from time to time for flavour (time doesn't exist remember
but expel that from your inner drone)
so that friendship becomes an awesome task
in the morbid decay of our shared priority
a measure of peace a garden to tend and a god
we will adumbrate the transition
to confucius darkly as befits our topic
christ is chinese that's the message here
you can tell by his eyes i speak as a connoisseur
of the late departure of spirit through the exhaust pipe
of our piety

teeming swamps of decay
purchase through pride of a right
to fishing on feast days eating swan driving fast cars
and all the privileges i tire of envying
were it not for the slap
of police van trajectories long crosses market surveys
in the night of my reflection
in the time of my absence
in the day of my night
in the ear of my other
defining simply the interest of simple truth
in the acrobat grammar
through the delve of our interaction
which is frequently inhibited by curfew hours
dull slopes of evening skiing down the window

centrally arranged around a polar axle of death
i projectile in to your dream nightmare of a vulture
clamouring for salutes bathrobes mayhem
and ever slaughter of the innocents
bubbling up in the froth of my enemy's brain
carnage in carthage shopping centre
blues in wood green
and another failed effort at linking into the bigger picture
obtaining a brochure for the multiplex proving impossible
grammar in particles
mathematico-nautical
for the seed of destiny
of meaning's surcease
supplicant on the planet
of the contrail preceding the jumbo jet
i observe from the swallow hour of my beginnings
feet up on the bed in the control tower
up above the marshes of another
futile escape from the vow
to keep silent