Sunday, September 23, 2018

count anteoni's confession


A bevy of businessmen on scooters. I steer around them with trepidation, lest one tumble in my path.

Bugonia.

"To manifests itself...in human actions as moral excellence and spontaneity, in other words, in de...The Klingon translator decided to translate this word as ghob, a noun which--like English 'virtue'--denotes conformity of one's conduct to moral principles but--unlike the English word--seems to lack associations with such notions as chastity or virginity. The fact that it is homophonous with the verb ghob, which means 'to fight, battle, do battle, wage war.' seems to lend it the aura of forcefulness." --Solska, ibid

Hauntology lives...in China.

Fortress Plano has
circled its wagons & raised
an invisible

pyramid over ev'ry
stupor, gloze & muttering.

Scardanelli songs
mix with rumble of the road,
unexpected thwarts

that you better not be lost
in a dream when they happen.

Savsannah has it
known this flooding? i am far
& without contacts.

Thinking, on my part, of things
i could buy as my pay drops.

Caravan into
phthisis · constantly watching
scissors, rock, CLAXU

crossing Mockingbird · a call
not this, not that, but many

frost Plimsoll shadow
boundary · it is this kraal
wiry mumchucks fling

& unforgot forms, bruja
or calcspar still loom i pass

miss point i should turn
& all this plan go marplot
play as if vital

sound zooms back to origin
Oak Cliff my first big hill climb

ouniq & Colorado

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Saturday, September 22, 2018

epicenter of unorthodox bicycles


Boing Boing revisits Lynch's Rabbits.

i know too much about hospitals.
      i want to see those
congeries of secret-lidded eyes
      again rendered blank
& a place i might go on light feet.

The Golden Shovel.

Believing we are giants when we are dwarves--is this not a paradox worthy of invoking depths? No: it is simply a lie, when acknowledging the truth of abjection is what would save us.

Friday, September 21, 2018

with the angry waters


(via)

Chalga.

"A rare 267-page (ebook version in PDF) long treatise of Sufi knowledge written in Affelian, using Akarni alphabet. It includes original translation of obscure paragraphs in the Ethiopian version of the Book of Enoch.

The typeset book has a length of 534 pages, each of which is printed in a 6,02 x 9,62 inches sheet of handcrafted wornout folio. The book is reproduced using propietary Akarni typography, rendring two volumes which are contained in our standard package."

We have found the root languages of the most common language on the site. Ned: Nordic, Eskimo, Dravidic.


(pic by lanny quarles on fb)

Dead mall series. (via seanbar on wrongplanet)


"But now, according to Rave News, vaporwave was mysteriously attracting fascists."

Thursday, September 20, 2018

li ciso fe'a li sore


(pic by geof huth on fb)

Valenberg wallpapers.

Clouds taut with entasis
Make steps tend toward nasties,
As if upon seitans—
Or a dank sestina.
Still, good for the tansies
And plenty brisk tisanes…

Stronger brews than tisanes
Risk hwyl or entasis,
Orchid-gauds not tansies’,
Jibes by critic-nasties.
Plebeian sestina
Rather beef than seitans.

Before there were seitans
I remember tisanes
Of sage, some sestina
That purged my entasis
Bad case of the nasties
Let a thousand tansies

The entrée, then tansies
Gluten-free or seitans
Alike seem now nasties
& all those sad tisanes:
Temple sans entasis,
Doggerel sestina.

Obsession’s sestina
Riots in the tansies;
I’ve done that entasis,
On to other seitans.
Era of dark tisanes,
Populous with nasties…

Who are the real nasties
If not strict sestina?
Zany our new tisanes
With GMO tansies
And scifi-great seitans,
Cycle-turn entasis.

To make a Newman Sestina.

With the grotesque, there is no abjection, or rather, it is valorized by the act of elaborating.

"In an interview with Bandcamp, she “half-jokes” that Japanese composer Ryuichi Sakamoto invented the genre 30 years prior ..."

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Wednesday, September 19, 2018

the queen's remembrancer


(susan sontag via luc fierens on fb)

The Truelist.

"All these years I’ve languished here in Salem
haven’t meant anything; I couldn’t find the words
for all the pain I’ve been feeling, there’s been no secret code
for all these hidden vices, addictions, multiple
diagnoses; I’ve juggled all of them at once, their tentacles
strangling me slowly, their hellish heat radiating.

And when I sleep now you tell me I radiate
heat like a furnace, hot dreams like Jerusalem’s
desert stretched out, sun beams like golden tentacles
burning the skin of my back. In the morning I have no words,
I can’t keep track of things, I check multiple
calendars, alarms, mark reminders on my arms like code.

If you examined my skin you could read, in code,
a map of my life, this sort of sequence that radiates
across my bruised body, a main line, a train line with multiple
stops along the way: Boston, LA, ending in Salem,
and all these markings (since, what good are words?),
these razor wire scars around my thighs like tentacles

and lyrics to songs, and numbers. No octopus tentacles
or phoenixes or koi fish, each scale a color code,
their dead eyes unseeing and mouths gaping silent words,
all these marks in permanent ink radiating
my life story onto my body. Like the stone markers in Salem,
each a name, a hanging body, a chest caved in by boulders (multiple).

And how many times have I told you—multiple?—
that your love is creeping up my spine like tentacles
of some horrible thing, that the chill of Salem
has frozen all that was good in me? I tried to arrange the snow in code
but you couldn’t hold onto it, the heat radiated
from your palms, and you melted all my words.

So listen: All I have left are these words.
Burn me in a fire and you’ll see, you can arrange the multiple
letters that will fall from my skin, my mouth, burnt radiation
black—my soul. Reaching out, long tentacles
of smoke that stain your skin and spell out code.
Hang me from the highest branch in Salem

and I will join the multiple ghosts of Salem
and all my ever- words will be your code;
at night, my soul will radiate, my hair will choke your throat like tentacles."

--Kolleen Carney (in answer to a challenge word-set)

My largesse went to Starbucks, not a homeless person. Yet i somehow feel i have contributed.

The Spiritual Gift of Madness.

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Tuesday, September 18, 2018

all the gray same cars


Meanwhile, on tumblr...

castle built of the lies parroted
Stockholm-style, by stooges of the predator

all our exiles prorated,
our despairs pro-trade

one teardrop
occults another teardrop

they said our world's demise would be prorated;
these walls, so pro-trade

parroted
scratchings & groans of the predator

i was, too, a predator
though other goblins i parroted

each teardrop
would be prorated

& you ask me if i'm really not pro-trade
as if ev'ryone must be pro-trade

escaping in a teardrop,
the route parroted

Predator,
your impact on the land cannot be prorated,

prorated,
like a slow bomb, like pro-trade

agreements, ah, predator to predator;
rain is what they see, not this teardrop,

woods unparroted

Ewoks comic book.

Monday, September 17, 2018

six figure earning potential


the shroud of turing
chestnut checkmate
clouds here so innocent
the fountain's drone
enfolds no belief · we leapt
purely out of hunger
hunger tower
drone & the weeds of emptiness

Dali's Aliyah.

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