I say its the least last day of April~
is there a fleece for this golden?
harp or spoon
rare thing rare thing
raring in
in in
Poetry as a Way of Life Expression _this poetry of the future_ what are becomings to be exists now yet exists on aural virtual visual plane and is a process of definition in and fiction| and other spaces of desire |clicks the rhizome space. criss cross frontiers mix melodies perform verse machines magics boundaries as usual A Recalltopoetryisawayof life and so many others et tant d'autres et tant d'autre_
Its only when you stopped brushing yer teeth
that i fell for you
flower and door nail
were all I had
praying at your thighs
mouth weeping mine at your heels
like a truck driver no merits
i've written the waist bands for you
the other ladies
ran for cover
sensing my monstrosity
coming me not being a ticker for cash
but cached in my rashers
down like any bacon between
deed and word it's your sex
and this
brief life between
Love makes me sick.
but you know I love you.
so , yes. love sick
as a collage
around your ass and legs
better yet,
the secret of you sex ~
Montréal spring
printemps
a
Montréal
je marche
dans les rues
sauntering in the roads
bodies
lovers
singer
song
building
appartement
a louer
non a louer
what a life
"LE CRI DE LA CARPE, Dominique Fonfrède, voix
Ann Ballester, piano -Création au festival de Querbes en 1999
Interprété ici: le Chant de la carpe de Ghérasim LUCA (extrait de la vidéo de 15')
Toutes les images « scéniques » sont générées par des anamorphoses du corps des interprètes «calculées» par le logiciel After Effects. Le parti pris est celui d'une scénographie numérique dans laquelle le montage serait banni. La 3D multiplie les couches d'images pour produire un espace feuilleté qui ne cherche pas à imiter la profondeur naturelle de la scène. L'œil du spectateur ne dispose donc pas du confort convenu d'une profondeur de champ fictive (virtuelle). Ici c'est une oreille qui voit et accompagne l'évolution des formes au plus près du cheminement poétique."
-----------------------
he
he had to come at her the backway
because she was too jealous~
___________________
privates
The organs begin by detaching themselves from the despotic body, the organs of the citizen rise up against the tyrant. Then they will become those of private man, they will become privatized after the model and memory of the disgraced anus, ejected from the social field--the obsessive fear of smelling bad.
_______________________
-- G.Deleuze and/or F.Guattari
Anti-Oedipus (p.211)
being ambiguous
being ambiguous has made you
more desirable
you already know I am your lover ~
----------------------------------
now then
Now then he takes her work to his bed
pictures her hands his naked around the pillow ~ these are not the dead hands of pretenders but those of bodies
burning
hungry heated up
hands
coming all over each other
swarming like monkeys
climbin each others asses,
genitals, legs,their mouths,
a torrent of mouths,
buttocks
lips
double lip.s.
him into her mouth.
her into his
.
then one body two sliding riding sliding riding around the tilt of each one another.when he goes to lie
in his futon
with her printed out work
that's what he has
calling her name
she calls back
they call call
call till breaking the sky
again they're hurtled high
into each other's beds
astral loved
hip to hip
comed to comed
as many as many welcomed comed
becomed
becomings
each cloud meadow of'em
---------------------------------------
take of
take off your clothes. she says. spring. is here.
our mouth's a narcotic. tickled by blossoms.
her journeys end here. between us.
dublin london her town around and around
its nudity, she's carried the weight
of her want. wanting all, giving nothing.
come to this bed. yer naked. mouth's open
across the strand. she's heard of three
in one, cut by the storm of hunger.
-----------------------------------------------
O me O my
O m e O my Im stuck with words
the glue of em
as vids audio and what not's gone
!
Ooooo Poof! with crashed puter's
Love is a box of sand 's hourglassed bust
rushed thru via the Windows of yer Self ~
Love all and carny
of course
A draft as always, comme tousjours
_____________
Of course , I didn't tell you all those things,private, about myself. you guessed them, taking them to bed with you, in your wrapped around garments,
feeling us
wooly in night
one body two one two one one one
my phone ringing you'd guessed my number too ~
I stood on my head
you are so naked
not deigning to answer
my letters
posing naked as you do for others
women, men,packs of hungry wolves
how could you not want it!
I dont even blame
i'd just ask you drop by time to time
naked as you do with them
covering my body with yours
laying your blanket on mine
your skin
burning on me ~
in ways I cant possibly explain
complain
or drive about.
even if my license is first class ~
O yes
O yes, always drawn
by the her drawn to her
kissed lips over balconies
beckoned to her ~ her ~
image detourne of the global spectale
she
Notes, draft.
____________
She used to go to bed with images of his,
image of his
his her flower
garden her lover
swirled around economics
broken by busted Metroe
meteos
of
her words his
scattered fleece
to her sex
ual becoming ....
his words, little pieces , tattered, scraps of bits
clutching them to her breast, her ass
her sex
then Boom!
Bloom
He'd scream
inher skinny
arm
s
crying
She'd explode
so he too!
Miles away
Unknowing
No SOuls Please
Bodies
Only in this Department.
we're sick of souls.
__________________________
this
this is your mouth
not your heart
get in it ~
---
2
I know where your hand
goes
mine does
too darling
sweet
as air
is winter
but better is spring
for travelling lovers ~
Spring came like a stranger
forest ranger
duckin in his breath head
his heart's friend
________________________
stions of m
___________
its completely asinine to put these morsels into any genre
so i put them all in yer poetry where all lovers
go
like the desire machine
of your love
body burning eyes burning
Darkness break at her eyes,
some pleasure are perfect disasters and the body calls us
to places unforeseen unknown
lover lash unleashed...
we dance
oui on danse
comme les maniaques... est-ce que c'est Bacchus et Pan?
Longtemps on attendait le printemps des fous des delires ... this language of body and heart never dying...
black kisses over white flowers...
hanna hoch
. No matter. art and poetry are one. family.
A video I found recently which is a homeage to the great Dada artist
Hanna Hoch.
I saw a show of her work last year. It was a plunge into delicacy and strength.
her work to me, in any case, appears to reflect many many elements of true life, and it seems, it struck me,it often was as delicate as her own body.
I know nothing about the wisdom
of your
body
I've never tasted you
not
kissed your lips
falling from skies
how can I know
how
can I know
how do I know
know know wisdom's body
yours
tasting you far
near far farther than before
closer than then
closer
intimate
far
close
vous
toi
Nobody knows your colour
except me
when I look across your eyes
across the bow of the ship
sailing toward your lap your thighs ~
She used to go to bed with images of his,
his words, little pieces , tattered, scraps of bits
clutching them to her breast, her ass
her sex
then Boom!
She'd explode
so he too!
Miles away
Unknowing
No SOuls Please
Bodies
Only in this Department.
we're sick of souls.
mp : 1.9 |
|
snippets and cuts from the writings of guy debord
"Never to have given more than very slight attention to questions of money, and absolutely none to the ambition of holding some brilliant post in society, is a trait so rare among my contemporaries that some will no doubt consider it incredible, even in my case. It is, however, true, and it has been so constantly and abidingly verifiable that the public will just have to get used to it."
- Guy Debord
"Our only public activities, which remained rare and brief in the early years, were meant to be completely unacceptable: at first, primarily due to their form; later, as they acquired depth, primarily due to their content. They were not accepted."
- Guy Debord
"This time, what was an absolutely new phenomenon, which naturally left few traces, was that the sole principle accepted by all was precisely that there could be no more poetry or art – and that something better had to be found."
- Guy Debord
its completely assinine to put these morsels into any Mouth
heart
jizz
salt shaker~
Saltimbanque
so sow sew sewing
so yer so
so yer so
i put them all in yer poetry where all lovers
go
like the desire machine
of your love
body burning eyes burning
Rembetiko
1983
blues outcasts
urban
man I can you living among Greeks for 2 and a half
years
now
I tell there is harshness here
yes
and the greek spirit that is great
is crushed under
by peasantattitudes
.
I never saw this film before
its an amzing clip
filled as life with
poltics
love
birth death
living in the part of th city
im in now
there've always been greeks
passionate people to say the least
and this music speaks to it all
as does the writing of Nikos Kazatakis~ one of the beauties of this movie
is the old smoking no longer permitte d in Brave new world paranoia bullshit we are not allowed to do anything anylonger second hand life
second hand smoke love second hand food second hand word secondary artists
secondary secondary seconded seconded by death and life
My Memory has not betrayed me of
the Solitude that Slayed me
-------------------------So many eyes\ the images of the kid
woman and man sound the motor in background
woman giving
birth
most
painful
as man takes strap to daughter
this is horrible
betrayal in them
I want to see the whole film
Darkness breaks at her eyes,
some pleasure are perfect disasters and the body calls us
to places unforeseen unknown
As lover lash unleashed...
and we dance
oui on danse
comme les maniaques... est-ce que c'est Bacchus et Pan?
Longtemps on attendait le printemps des fous des delires ... this language of body and heart never dying...
les routes sourdes perdaient leurs ailes
et l'homme grandissait sous l'aile de silence
homme approximatif comme moi comme toi et comme
les autres silences
-- from l'hommme approximatif
t. tzara
“All my poems were__[are] on parole “
alll my poemsare on vacation
holiday
on Strike
do leave cash
hiatus is a rhetorical term
it's a point of view
_____________the idea of hiatus is a course in redirected thinking or tinkering or what is memory? but of the now...
yes Mona and Jill and Franny discovering new ways of folding,___of becomings-text __ newer employments,
akin to new envelopments […]
but what always matters is folding, unfolding, refolding.Ravelling rapelling composing