....' Scholars of Money and War'

"among the scholars of money and war...'

Among them you killed yourself

Napoleon's Symphony
Ginsberg's line 'the scholars...'
line of flight &


Poet's ditty re Duty

is this coheresive? persuasive? readers, writers/ dadas mamas

Poets qua Poets don't have a Duty t a aNything But Poetry ameriCan poets who've been oedipalized and institutionalized

forget this but perhaps its us Canadadas with our medicare MamaCare who are OediPus Babas

I mean if people , spend so much time talking about Poetry, they will for get to do it.

anYhow when it comes to Duty we get shivers

Genet never spoke of Duty

Nor did Tzara / I dont know Im fusedrefusedinsouciant no exactwords paaaaaaaaaaaallllleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeessssssssssssssssseeeeeeeeeeeeeeee thats what drove Artaud Arttoe mad and he knew it look what he says aboutthe other poets in comparison to himself
shall I compare thee to a Summer Surrealist
Thou art more bifurcated and rough tought as silicone
Denotated than dolt golder than connote and its folute cease and desist overwhelmingly tottingly sililiver suns

but it is a concetta 'all a conversation ' Shall I say a tergiversation? Yes, indeed and the fictional poet speaks. at Least I here , the fictional poet speaks. If one can call this speaking. Like an American woman poet's voice.

et felix? Felix speaking of duty referred to Kant and Wordsworth's late pome which mentions Duty /that rhymes with Beauty ~
future links to


'an unbroken flow of words and tears'

`different differnet ent as in entity' and it
to the sun like our smile like our ass hanging
`in your hands' it bespeaks like the antiquated
"I was waiting there all night and pregnant
as the pause I saw the bird standing wrought
strong as the turf and " It was like the that her
Erotic spring in the `entity' I was the long song
in between the mother's eyes and the drafted something
slipped away in the shod' of thought' the gentlewoman
of her country caravan and`and why nationalists make the country
a worse place' turning the screw Ulysses Odysseuss Eurydice
again the silent mouth `her reverie and mine' like the similitude
`like the simile I was the epic march of' a preposition missed
made me flung back me I cannot see the memory memorex pad of
my disconnected dendrons `like the whirling cyclades Charybdis
and Scylla it was peaked this way 'this ay' that aye that thing
of iris cornea cone meek shall make pace `long gone song'
her gentlewoman praise my cocks stand mast peace
tired of the `bullfinches' in golden Palgreave pictogram
"old books dead beat old beat dead book' I commenced to write
a booke' was my other's aim
knot not like ringinggg `that hand these picture'
Oh cry and cairn where the loose rocks fell
in the dell of her nose the swirl of her thighs sideways
thunder terrifies thunders terrify me'


StiFf StaFF of IdEArs

Mona had a query


If poetry is not a way of life, and one led outside of the academies of failure and death, what can it be? where are the poets who dare to live outside of that machine?

does it end
maybe it never ends
as for that person who asked why did that ( why didnt I do it with (some) songs and poems I sent it. I did it to try something. If you had read it as an individual post and not a collective digested preconceived text, it might have been clearer.
One has to combine theoretical machines with real ones and make the invention of poetry crucial. what exactly was she doing making money in my teeth. Afterwards we took them to the c a m p s it was very brrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrcold in the Archipelago
I find this text of yerS interesting, however, I'd remark that the desire-machines are a facto that wreaks havoc at the edges of what appears to be a textuality without context. That is indeed the criticism made of deconstruction and its infinite text. But I find what you have written very beautiful anyhow, that its rhythm speaks to me as much if not more than what it says. that the litany like forward movement of the ideas that it unfolds allows a grace of song in spite of its hypothetical nature. I.e all of this business of privilege, well it does not really apply to the average unprivileged writer, or poet. The notion of a privilege in writing always strikes me as something reserved for a certain class i.e. the class of theoreticians and their perpetrators, the professors. That being said, these creatures also have their place in the great declamatory chain of signifiers that constitute the becomings, the immanent flow of language, its real place in bodies and history. John Milton comest to mind and his endless production machine of prose on the one hand, and his epic poetry on the other ___I won't make a distinction between the genres contained within the overall epic poetry of his entire life's work. One has always has the sense that the 'If' that often starts a text of this sort predicates the writer's view point on a nothing that exists... thank you and
as Joyce says Ave Laval my leaves have drifted from me  and yes there is an authority in the texts
Text & Continuous Existence If there is no privileged meaning to meaning for the reader and writer. This is nothing new. Yeats calls it poetry. He is wrong in his mysticism too, though at least he recognized the nature of language in a clearer primitive view. This algorithm is not properly proposed.
If the text in the position as it is presented, (and) having no privileged meaning for any specific reader including the writer of the text, it is the text that is real or not merely proposed, and the organism that is either
and Is you back again. This boy. This boy. ~~~
and his many travels
the reader or the writer that is proposed or not entirely real. The complete vested unfolding reality of the organism must be the text. The first meaning of the organism is the text, and any remaining meaning of the organism after death is the text. The text is the only proof of the proposed reality of the organism that reads and or writes it. It follows most
sensibly that the text is to prove the reality of the organism though it seems to arise from the organism. It follows as well that the cause of the organism's existence is the text. Though the text is in a form mediated by the intrusion of the proposed organism, the organism itself must be the hypothesis of a pre-existing, unmediated by the proposed organism, form of the text. The hypothesis must be - that the organism can exist for provision of, and because of the mediated form of the text that will exist because of the intrusion of the proposed organism. The hypothesis of the mediated form of the text that we commonly call language is - that the organism can exist as long as the text can uphold the meaning of the organism. It follows as well that the pre-existing or unmediated form of the text could only exist because of a proposed differentiation. It certainly must be that the organism is a group proposition of the unmediated form of the text caused by the proposition ___ war and lovemaking and proof of differentiation and potential communication. It follows sensibly that the freely acted physical endeavors of the organism witOut and Death DeniEd In His VeIns of HopE and Ruin ' the simple buttocks of her beauty'
a breath of a line and a dangeR to die
her smile over h the text oriented intellect must/need produce over time a universal text of differentiation for any form of awareness and a continuous existence for tion of differentiation within a group proposed awareness - yet to be defined dynamic. A single primordial awareness cannot have proposed text in any form. The purpose of the proposed existence of the organism must be to prove the proposition of the text. ________________________________________ Let me iNtDoCuce ChaoSMoSIs Collage - Journal The Space of Discourse The ongoing data (dada) of this Collagejournal keeps no particular structure to guide me through the intellectual country we are riding into. Let it be exciting and adventurous, filled with and for the unknown unfolding of truths and truth. Then beauty and its magic talk of verb and noun and the many splendored splintered paragraph of movement in narration, character secret poetry of inter-t[s]ext works forward and backward, echoing and hearing itself in other spaces. Like the allusion are always just only learning about . Of all the essays in the book ________, the one that interests me the most for its form anyway is ________'. This journal collage intends to use the same approach. It is eclectic, allows for a range of quick transitions and treats the essay form in much the same that writers like K____________ and ______________ treat the novel - as an area of play, creation and learning. Make the text-essay your own. Notes, responses, secondary readings, questions that arise when reading the Wasteland, the facsimile; Question or areas to probe - the relations between the Wasteland, the Tempest, and Mansfield Park; how this connects (inter-texts) with contemporary belles-lettres i.e. the "novels" of W.S.Burroughs and Kathy Acker for instance. Another point of departure is - how does the practice of critical reading carry over into our daily life? This is political, of course and politics seems to have gotten lost by the way side in some of the discourse of critical thought. So a question I would pose (and I pose this or think this to Fish especially i.e. the interpretative community): How do we make this relevant to the concerns of our everyday life? No poet or novelist was ever far removed from the political realities and discourses of their time. Milton then in the 1600's, Tzara till the early 60's, Genet until his death, to say nothing of the feminist writers and their politicization of the "field." I am thinking especially of black writers, of both genders: Alice Walkers, Toni Morrison, James Baldwin. I think there will be a lot of quotes around terms I use for one, because so many of their meanings are in doubt, and secondly they have lost their applicability. These "things" (literary theory\criticism) must have relevance; literary theory unlike "literary criticism" seems to stand back and take a look at what is going on outside of the books. Edward Said in Culture and Imperialism discusses this at great length. And he discusses the circumstances of characters in the traditional novel. He urges us to consider how we appreciate the settings of these works in terms of the British Empire of that time; the metropolitan setting versus the colonies. In terms of their relations to the third world colonies which are the source of fictional characters incomes i.e. in Mansfield Park, the father has estates in third world colonies which are the source for the revenues which enable the Bertrams to live the way they do. Consequently they also provide Jane Austin the means to write her book and tell us the story of the characters' lives. Wide Sargasso Sea tells us another version of the story - we tend to think of books as being a type of truth, encased in their concrete binders. They are not. Books have an outside as Deleuze and Guattari state in an essay called Rhizome. The organism (human being) is independent of the text in interactions of physical similarity. These physical activities are a matter of selection by a text oriented intellect independent of text control because of the proposed physical simila by the unmediated form of the text for the purpose of validation of the proposition of differentiation. Free will gives us war and lovemaking and proof of differentiation and potential communication. It follows sensibly that the freely acted physical endeavors of the organism with the text oriented intellect must/need produce over time a universal text of differentiation for any form of awareness and a continuous existence for the organism as the mediator of the text. (Trinidad Cruz with permission) Re: Text & Continuous Existence My ReSpoNSe to IFlanguage is a virus - w. burroughs -- My reply to that rather witty swipe of Burroughs has been, well if language is a Virus I am going to create an epidemic in this hurlyburly of writing.
Re: [PoetryisawayofLife] More RingS in the t Hing s a Nd a DanCe
verlainelefou wrote
Verlaine! isn't it Fun to celebrate to create the dance in
the words of the virtual page! dance of dialectics anD dialEct colOur anDDdddddddd TonE If this boy gets you back again. This boy. This boy.
If this boy get IS It then
that he remembered stanDing in A Bar that JoHn LennOn was Shot and he was drunk as a skunk slid across the floor of his desire SluShed Out Burned Out and Death DeniEd In His VeIns of HopE and Ruin ' the simple buttocks of her beauty'
a breath of a line and a dangeR to die her smile over the mountains of Lebanon
and s you back again. This boy. This boy. ~~~ and his many travels awake day and night for weeks wandering down the palm, the plain of his poems citied like any other lover approached by her on the ear of a conversation in mid street~~~ A few words to make you sooth
like these maker her close her back `nonetheless' I have to run, but see you later. Her back turned at the computer looking into `space' `its space'
from Fictions 2 and and and
  • Fictions2
  • A few words to make you soothe waves like these maker her close her back `nonetheless' I have to run, but see you later. Her back turned at the computer looking into `space' `its space'


    grapples hooks -- spiders its conenctions

    Guattaree pens a missive : t'a Mona and friends

  • GuattariComplex

  • Mona dearest ____, I know the performative is valuable. Fear not these nuts in the dèstablishment. they are deadbores. not performative. Yer friend and mouthlover DadaDuffy is the true CroWn Prince of the Potato. he has many spudlings as amiable pals and cheerful suds of friendship and fellows that invent the fellows of the thought that follows.

    these new so-called "Establishments" are the worst most reactionary one of all of them in the worldin
    all history! I pindar ponder

    "from the council right through to the publishers, the critics, the reviewere, the whole kit and kaboodle and

    it has not changed "

    [so you say]

    it got worse
    [yea yea yea bla bla]

    One is censored
    [two are censored not One the censoree and censored]

    kept out controlled
    [micropoetics of control]
    then there is the ____ that national radio "broad" caster __ and that horrible horrible programme "Frighers in Compnay!"
    (an what a n Obvious echo of great Sylvia Beach's Shakesepare and Company the woman who published one book by one man)

    and that horrible gang of Middle Class controllers
    [dont ya think yer being a little bit general?]
    across the Country who maintain and control the machine

    even the most far out

    and intelligent of poets/ writers get caught captured imprisoned by all that Bs

    Look at what Deleuze and Guattari say by way of Artaud ...

    Every writer is a Sell out....


    it is so..

    So sick and neurotic so concerned to expose their students to what they imagine are the true and right values of writing

    So sick and concerned to sell their little expression their little puny expressions

    and the "clicks" that formed over the years

    the wanky spoken word lot

    I am so glad I am living in Mongolia now

    where none of these twits can bother me and Martha.

    Martha my doll

    Martha my wrap up Poetry Queen

    Martha my Dada wife

    shes my babe

    and I dont need any Scrabble Woman teachers or any of the rest of them dead busts from Candeada or Usamuckia!


    Listen we breath better in the mountains

    The phone rang, Oona calling to say, we don`t believe in any of our own opinions and are as willing to drop them as a draft.


    chronicle of the schizo-organes

    as the Knight was sad sick and sad, or was the Dulcinea read Knight's eyes cossetting the plain or was that dancing in the rest of the bucolic space which each river cried. but what was the gerundive of correct? sitting by his body shes holding he shore to each not wishing a loll distance to detach her cream coloured her lesbic make-up or the heavy lean to of doubt

    The Knight has no Organes when saving is the treat the stinging self when it waiting.



    the publisher of er..

    Yes, yes the publisher, called and said oh, the format is wrong and so how are readers going to get what you are doing, and that is a good question.

    we are wondering
    ifit works

    if we go

    down the lines I guess not. something has to be figured out in this space of intention and draft, of defeat and drawing. What shall we do, shall we learn said Virginia to her friend down South.


    "There's a logic today that places a greater value on celebrity the less it is accompanied by actual achievement. I don't think it's possible to touch people's imagination today by aesthetic means."

    That kind of says it all about a lot of visual arts today - just shock and awe! - like the state of parts of the world today, as well as the popular entertainment business. Do we have to accept that?
    Ballard which almost rhymes with Bollard


    we gotta ORthOgraphEE

    We Gotta An ORthoraphEe and it exists. so there you go and there you have it.


    nose hairs

    nose hairs and yer deisisting desire machine. fallout flapping in the wind.yer semiparalysed body. parlay to I. we are loved. we do it. over again.i hold your breast closer to me. this time. spiraled time. forgive my body for living alone too long.

    desire its all economic _ all of it.


    mystical vo...

    all poetry is a way of life, as well as a state of mind, right? don`t we agree? This is interesting. It reminds me of another quote of Eluard's. I don't know which poem it was from. But Sartre quotes in an essay he wrote. "There is another world, and it is right here." To me this was always a good example of poetic immanence. In poetry it seems the transcendence/immanence dichotomy is also "acted out" in different authors. Eliot is the poet driven to transcendence, yet his most famous poem -- the Waste Land -- is the most down to earth (get it! down to earth here in the mud and rack and ruin nobeyond etc above etc) piece of fragmentation written by an early modern poet -- who was a sortof schizo -- I mean here you have this man living with a

    woman who is going mad and he is going mad -- he wrote part of the poem in an assylum in Lausanne --- he writes this pome which is wildy Dada in some ways -- yet he the man, the banker the budding about to be famous critic and most influential critic of modern literature is the reactionary conservative anglo-catholic -- He is the perfect sort of example of the line that runs between or the axis that gyrates between the schizophrenic-revolutionary pole and the paranoid-reactionary pole of the unconscious. It's as if Eliot embodies the conflict between preconscious and unconscious precisely. His poetry cuts a"revolutionary" innovative path into and through cinematic fragmentation etc etc. text collage,, yet his apprehension of these matters is far distant -- he runs as far from his creation as any reactionary would from such hot material.... how different from Artaud, Tzara and ELuard.... the split in modern poetry is exact. One has the poets of the left and the poets of the right.... and these categories mean different things in different countries at different times to different literary milieus... So Eliot's poetry is schizo-"left" yet his critical machines are only "left" to the extent that they serve his political vision of the meaning of literature which is the meaning of his politics.... in contrast to Andre Breton who is the surrealist who is always left yet in his interactions with fellow artists and poets is

    known as the "Pope of Surrealism" and is completely stuck in power relations with three generations of poets and painters from around the world....and whose poetry also creates a "revolutionary" cathexis which is still being absorbed... he was the poet who never allowed himself to use even an accidental rhyme... it is all very fascinating and illustrates the many levels of conflict contradiction and differences each one of us lives if we live these things and think about them.... an intrigued formation ..In 1933 the poet Paul Eluard described Bataille's writing (specifically a ... where Bataille says that 'man lives with his own death') as
    "mystical vo



    she it was that was nothing in elder pool or something of t'is missing where paint by fingers wore it s care not knowing if always was the same as when the prayer fingers stood on the head

    we 're heading down the a venue of London

    over forting when may claimed came of stripped its hue tongued night


    chronicle of the schizo-organes

    as the Knight was sad sick and sad, or was the Dulcinea read Knight's eyes cossetting the plain or was that dancing in the rest of the bucolic space which each river cried. but what was the gerundive of correct? sitting by his body shes holding he shore to each not wishing a loll distance to detach her cream coloured her lesbic make-up or the heavy lean to of doubt

    The Knight has no Organes when saving is the treat the stinging self when it waiting.
    : Cross listing of text: we'll call it, eventually Crosstexting .


    at the[e]

    at the[e] hill where many river meet essay and balk the night plain what word seized this pint of blood.

    now the current of imagination paranoia the grab giddy as final ruin, the urn
    chappered ashes, not the face of your heart, broken again, broken

    . open yer mouth before this ugly smile

    god punishes

    you & you but not the only space of
    repletion & over the mask of its hilling



    Chronicles of the Squire the Schizo-sans Organes-to be followe d by

    He read the words in the magic golden book s amazed at their perspicacity and the Irish girl saying, it's obvious , it's obvious to sing on your head, and read with yer toes. but to laminate the sticks Now that is another ting! Altogether!

    Nothing is easier than to familiarize oneself with the mammalian
    brain. Get a sheep's head, a small saw, chisel, and forceps... and unravel the parts ... Guattari nodded asleep a drone on Deleuze's sleeve


    Once on a time, a schizo time it was a pUblicker offerEd a Booke to a poet, but when it came time to tit-a-tit the publiker got scaredypants and peed and ran when the contract was due its past date of immanence and imminent peril. what then , became of the poet poster?

    he blogged his fortune past the dogs heading foR the hills of hide and plenty mocking and knocking at many doors,

    nothing worse than a poet who does not keep her word, replaced displaceD or otherwise

    and then Mona,like Orpheus besidebefore her Knew that all was Hell.

    in this bad bad bad world .

    _______________________So there are fictions and the dada duffy chronicle
    to come ~.


    oracles oracular| Verses oracular

    I was reading this 'article' 'review' of James Davidson about a book by Michael Wood in the London Review of Books.LRB Vol. 26 No. 23 dated 2 December 2004 James Davidson

    I read these promising words and think of how Isodore Isou was declared Emperor of Poetry by Maurice Lemaitre. How strange and odd to declare a poet Emperor in the midst of one of the greatest leftist periods of History. SO there is a hierarchy and a democracy at the same time. that is mistah bloomis sort of suggesting, but his maps be wrong. the maps are deeper and more complex.
    I was right about this a few years back when I suggested that the unconscious is a quantum, I mean in the sense that it contains both contradictory self and the straightforward self, or let us call it, bending to Deleuze and Guattari, the transcendental and immanent unconscious. Or the molar molecular dada mama.
    Maps of the brain and power.

    How silly. I am a leftist. I am a believer in history, not god or gods, its all forces, and flows intensities, several thousand years of institutions and names, genders, and displacements of self and other.

    It is all very uncertain. One speaks of history and power, death and life, war and mouths, bodies falling down the curtain. What the false poets don't understand is that the real poets are in for keeps,that it is not about 'creative writing' and awards. But about intensities, dangers, what Artaud called the Body-without-organs, about real people really going Nuts. about tidal wave washing away thousands in half an hour..


    But what is an oracle? What isn’t?

    The word ‘oracle’ (Latin not Greek) is perhaps unhelpful and is not really examined by Wood with any curiosity. In fact I cannot think of a straightforward equivalent for ‘oracle’ in Greek. The Greek word normally translated as ‘seer’ is not prophetess which implies ‘spokesman’ (phesi, ‘he says’; pro-, ‘in place of’), but mantis, perhaps from a root ma- indicating ‘reveal’, and related by Greeks to mania, ‘raving’. Mantis gives us all those -mancies, those odd subdivisions in the science of knowing the unknowable: geo-, necro-, oneiro-, ornitho-, biblio- mancy, to which one might now add nancymancy or ‘gaydar’. One cannot be sure what it was about the appearance or the behaviour of a certain spooky headhunting insect that led the Greeks to call it, too, mantis; perhaps its habit of adopting a motionless position as if transfixed.

    I don't know who the guy is who wrote this article, but.

    It is significant, I think, that Apollo himself, a god, could be called ‘seer’ as if it were a particular talent he had, and that unlike omniscient Allah, Yahweh or God, even Zeus can be surprised by fateful futures. Cassandra is also ‘mantis’, but Apollo’s female voices, like the Pythian priestess at Delphi, were sometimes called ‘pro-mantises’, as if to emphasise the fact that they were not seers but stand-ins for the true divine seer who stood behind them and operated them, with his hand, so to speak, up their skirts. Hence manteion, ‘seer-site’: ‘divination location’ is one of the words often translated as ‘oracle’


    hulsenbeck hausman other

    This first a tribute to that old Dada

    first heard about hulsenbeck and genet with in ? no hulsenbeck first, later by way of
    notre-dames des fleurs, genet.

    at ryan larkin's place the book by who was it, richter? then later came jeff nutall
    and others, by then reading sartre and others; naturally lots of poetry
    . 1970-71 back and forth to sussex. there the old books remain
    the old "young" manuscripts, copies of old young poems

    Raoul Hausmann at the Librairie Loewy, Paris 1961
    (Photo: Martha Rocher)

    hulsenbeck hausmann these guys, derring do dada reading reciting to
    riotous crowds of hundreds as they wandered the cities of Germany
    in theM prewar Years.

    Genet was a mere child I was not a thought, but perhaps a gene. You were not there,
    I dont recall seeing you in the gene pool

    pullin my belly to your body

    sometimes id bee reading shit writing shit

    mixing languages and arts
    genres and bodies have made this, and made me what i am.