Tuesday, June 07, 2016

an irenic outlook

"We cannot live without monstes' blood coursing through us." --Fourth Mansions

End of being.

     "Sonnets to Chango: V."

As counted by the census wonks of Bedlam
red sky at morn, evening sky of orchid
salesmen of roadblocks prosper, relish the challenge
unreal as most things here, but baldly unctuous
view from the fourth floor now, after a rugged
journey & heralds, salvo after salvo,
join on this haggard highway the merest chaos
ornaments. Blackened shell of a car, in fugue,
whose smoke we saw in advance. How chastely modern
to pass without knowing the outcome. Æpyornis
to stomach thus. Caligula the regent
wanders out in the rain & under less ozone
'than graced the blue of the sky of the youngling pedant.
If May can burn like this, what comes with August?

"A language isolate, beyond all affiliation with other languages... A system that will offer new meanings, entire new levels of perception. It will expand our reality, deepen the reach of our intellect. It will remake us... We will approximate the logic and beauty of pure mathematics in everyday speech. No similes, metaphors, analogies. A language that will not shrink from whatever vforms of objective truth we have never before experienced." --Zero K

Meet the Hitlers.



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