an InFiNiTe

An InFinIte Joy

if the gobbly goo
government goes

yes yep
away with 'em

the mountains's shine brighter

the sun

hipped by golden
fair shores

all the oil
from Alberta
with their taxcuts
bargain basement

off to the Artic with ya

away with the alien

o the rise
of the wave

of the




yer a very much a dreamer! mister DuffeE.

O no I am a believer in Multitude and the possibility of
democracy always appearing and
peeping through
the shifty shitty strata
of daily life
and filthy


what a pleasure it would be
a joy it'd be to see the conservatives grandstanded and crashed
a a joy to see the socalled prime beefy alien minister go back
to the benches

what ajoy see democracy work

not a false vote
but a coalition yes mister conservatives

maybe a flow of the many


a new government

a path to what might be proportional government
the so called conservatives stinking right wing

who would if they could

take Everything Away

Dont forget that

They would Take Everything Away
the right is the right is the right

the right is always wrong always deceiving always cheating
cheap conservative mean and it goes
without saying

are the capitalist war mongering

antihuman outer space

weirdos who are against all progress
unless it serves the interest of the ir whole package

their whole package
is under the disguise


I cna see a tyrant behind the eyes of the prime beef minister


let us hope it happens
the coalition

this might be a crack into a possible becoming future

from rabble ca

Progressive leaders urge opposition parties to form coalition government

OTTAWA, ON - Prominent progressive leaders have come together today to urge Stéphane Dion and Jack Layton to put partisan concerns aside and form a coalition government to serve the best interests of citizens suffering from a global economic crisis.

The open letter follows.

An urgent message to Stéphane Dion and Jack Layton: Only a coalition government can provide the leadership Canada needs

Dear Leaders,

We, the undersigned, write to you during this time of economic crisis to urge that you set aside all partisan considerations in favour of decisive action to help Canadians who are suffering and whose livelihoods are in jeopardy.

At this critical moment, a coalition government would be the most capable of delivering the kind of stewardship the economy needs, and the least likely to put partisan interests ahead of responsible government.

Barely five weeks after promising to work cooperatively with the opposition parties - representing a majority of voters - Prime Minister Harper failed to deliver a plan to halt the devastation being wrought upon hard working families. Instead his Conservative government is using the crisis to attack the democratic process, violate the rights of public servants to bargain collectively and end pay equity.

Canada now stands alone as the only government in the western world without a coherent economic stimulus plan. The Harper government talks of balancing the budget by selling off assets and restraining spending, the exact opposite of the stimulus response that virtually all economists and many others are arguing is necessary.

Time is of the essence. You have an unprecedented opportunity to deliver to citizens a coalition that is capable of putting aside partisan ploys and to work cooperatively and swiftly in the interests of all.

Despite Mr. Harper's contentions, the outrage of citizens and opposition parties is not about public funding of political parties, but rather, it is about a Conservative plan that would actually deepen our country's economic crisis. The Harper government's taking party funding off the table should not be a reason for backing down from your efforts to construct a coalition government.

Please be assured that we all stand ready to offer constructive ideas on ways to help workers, their families and communities weather this storm and emerge stronger than ever.


Ken Lewenza, President, Canadian Auto Workers
Paul Moist, National President, Canadian Union of Public Employees
Dave Coles, President, Communications, Energy and Paperworkers Union of Canada
Denis Lemelin, National President, Canadian Union of Postal Workers
Steven Staples, President, Rideau Institute
Bruce Campbell, Executive Director, Canadian Centre for Policy Alternatives
John Urquhart, Executive Director, Council of Canadians
Mel Watkins, Professor Emeritus of Economics, University of Toronto

This text copied over from

from rabble ca



this will be playa.

bite apple.

wear dappled mayflowers on yer head.
sur le bus.

many folk. longgying their passage.

I.O.U. silver explainations.

between entre francais et english.
her lipped francais mon levre anglais ~
double becomed~ double devenir ~

Ahoy! me ditty dogs! the sea lent lambast's upon us! Typhoon! Merge of waves. Gorilla talk on sea. Roar of mist. how that can be? in sea Octupus. Rigged by the sea brain. A deep sea diver. Plunged plumed. My hardy ones. Sea wrack. round mouth.. amnesia scuffle. my bare lent ladies have recherche my reckoned.

Now take breath. Sailor boy. Are you a sodium? then? a dolmen a sodomite bridged by yer neck?

Mouth to her sex. leaned into the lust.
O aye! me captain
the capstan is waning!
Watch forth the breaker's is heaving high! roar'em in the poopdeck! must be shore on the hull side o'things!
Yer irish accent's gone looney

beckon me reckon me. tickle me. fickle me.

Mona's won every capsized mate .

'was saturday ...


turrrrnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnssssssszzzzzzzzzzzz out
today was saturday
. a day.
.co here .

________________ Did you wear Horns?
find winter boot?

____________lifted air off couch.
far went Venus de Milo ~ ~

thy opus card is pent with foregoings



turns out

turns out i was wrong about that line
it was not Ferlinghetti who wroted it

William Carlos Williams ....s

William Carlos Williams, "To Elsie" or "The pure products of America / go crazy"
from Spring and all (1923)

The pure products of America
go crazy--

Kleist's line of flight

Considering all Kleist. as bloc. to machine or mulitplicity as mention in machine.
O Kleist Kleist Keist for Kleist sake!

....Why is the line of
flight a war one risks coming back from defeated, destroyed, after having
destroyed everything one could? This, precisely, is the fourth danger: the
line of flight crossing the wall, getting out of the black holes, but instead of
connecting with other lines and each time augmenting its valence, turning
to destruction, abolition pure and simple, the passion of abolition. Like
Kleist's line of flight, and the strange war he wages; like suicide, double suicide,
a way out that turns the line of flight into a line of death. ....

Kleist: everything with him, in his writing as in his life, becomes speed
and slowness. A succession of catatonic freezes and extreme velocities,
fainting spells and shooting arrows. Sleep on your steed, then take off at a
gallop. Jump from one assemblage to another, with the aid of a faint, by
crossing a void. Kleist multiplies "life plan(e)s," but his voids and failures,
his leaps, earthquakes, and plagues are always included on a single plane.
The plane is not a principle of organization but a means of transportation.
No form develops, no subject forms; affects are displaced, becomings catapult
forward and combine into blocks, like the becoming-woman of Achilles
and the becoming-dog of Penthesilea. Kleist offers a wonderful
explanation of how forms and persons are only appearances produced by
the displacement of a center of gravity on an abstract line, and by the conjunction
of these lines on a plane of immanence. He is fascinated by bears;
they are impossible to fool because their cruel little eyes see through
appearances to the true "soul of movement," the Gemut or nonsubjective
affect: the becoming-bear of Kleist. Even death can only be conceptualized
as the intersection of elementary reactions of different speeds. A skull
exploding, one of Kleist's obsessions. All of Kleist's work is traversed by a
war machine invoked against the State, by a musical machine invoked
against painting or the "picture." It is odd how Goethe and Hegel hated this
new kind of writing. Because for them the plan(e) must indissolubly be a
harmonious development of Form and a regulated formation of the Subject,
personage, or character (the sentimental education, the interior and
substantial solidity of the character, the harmony or analogy of the forms
and continuity of development, the cult of the State, etc.). Their conception
of the Plane is totally opposed to that of Kleist. The anti-Goetheism,
anti-Hegelianism of Kleist, and already of Holderlin. Goethe gets to the
crux of the matter when he reproaches Kleist for simultaneously setting up
a pure "stationary process" that is like the fixed plane, introducing voids

and jumps that prevent any development of a central character, and mobilizing
a violence of affects that causes an extreme confusion of feelings .
. □ 269


So a commentator... here in this excerpt below... caught off momenting...... in the glosses on the internet some space, of which to each is Kleist. and Lens O Poor Lens.
----------------"In Mille Plateaux, Deleuze and Guattari repeatedly contrast Goethe negatively in light of Kleist's work. For example, they state, »Tout l'oeuvre de Kleist est parcourue par une machine de guerre invoquée contre l'Etat, par une machine musicale invoquée contre la peinture ou le ›tableau‹. C'est curieux comme Goethe, et Hegel, ont la haine de cette nouvelle écriture«. 6 Several chapters later, they return to the subject, declaring »Lenz et Kleist affrontaient Goethe, génie grandiose, veritable homme d'Etat parmi tous les hommes de lettres«. 7 Finally, when discussing different types of space, they postulate »Pour le moment, il faudrait seulement dire qu'il y a deux sortes de voyage, qui se distinguent par le role respectif du point, de la ligne et de l'espace. Voyage-Goethe et voyage-Kleist?«. 8 In the above examples, Deleuze and Guattari are clearly thinking of such works as Wilhelms Meisters Lehrjahre and, perhaps, the Italienische Reise when they make this distinction between Kleist and Goethe. The distinction is less tenable when one considers more ›minor‹ Goethean masterpieces, such as the West-östlicher Divan and, even, Faust II. ..."

A thousand
thou_ sand

A thous_ and tiny sexes _ my queer lover ~ . we're cut into boxes, blues, bullies, territoriies. what face is this you hold, held to my visage in your hand, in your sex. what double joined one is this?

the machines

Movies, shit, poetry

the machiNes

the machines of yer face
of your ass
yer bod y cut across yer wild's face
this is your nasturbation|

it's the anaoedipal break & cut cupage which makes the difference/


cheap finality of tawdry remembered film ~ .

peace and potatoes

brim forth their gush ~

Mozart's desiring-machine?
'Raise your ass to your mouth... ah, my ass burns like fire, but what can be the meaning of that? Perhaps a turd wants to come out... Yes, yes, turd, I know you, I see you, I feel you.. What is this _is such a thing possible? ..." (Mozart letter.. to someone ....)

peace and potatoes
you go


Co-posted at radiodeleuzehere

In spain

in spain last summer
the clouds were puffy
you stood on your head

as if the air was stone
in Barcelona the castles pure

the art cape carapace of beauty

it was like that
Spain in the summer was the Mediterranean sea

In New York you watched the Empire State building loom

this is just a load of malarkey!
it is not! it's a pile of baloney!


Get a hairpiece! please, a hairshirt!
a diamond collar
a whirligig calender for yr dogdaze



mind ~!

mind that jib don't bang yer head

swingin' round as it does

there's fathoms beneath ya
me lungs tear at the silver air
of ocean broad me pirates

So my sailor

get thy water-legs




the side (as of a ship) or area that is sheltered from the wind

lo g

off course.
on course.
a sailor keeps a log. daily on
the bloom of forest and
her narrative's kept her rested.

between the thighs. her feet.
come around her head leaned. his hand
ing around her dress


each thought

her s .

a delicate ....

the watch ((surveillance) surveillance f (on sur);
to keep ~ monter la garde;)

the watch is mysterious
silent sentry as it were of poesy at sea
whales rudder the ocean ; porpoise and sea-bird
the wail of tyhoon beckonging its piece of
full canvas in the guard of waves
grabbing their untouchable fist of money.
the ease of beaching is behind us. dark moor ofthe grey sea. Neptune's hardies
we can . only beat back oar. oaring oaring arm muscles thwarting gleam.
in husk of sea-bread.

a delicate posture is played.
do spars hold steady?

hold yer horses, wave.
breakers. darker than bowling ball black.
frighten the heart. hardest privateers know this course.
bound for the dark west . southern ball. work slaves all.

husky with the made of men. our words fall off.skin peeled eye.
black brow burnt.

(do you speak riddles? with yer star fish gabber? what pearl
hissed under sea? what back portion of diamonds found with it)

our anchor hauls off. ready-steady as she go. men. there are no women. here
aboard this boat. brigand to the high sea. nevernever land to the death seas.

we dont know how we speak. teeth gone, gums crashed.
heads buggered by the swell and sore of boom.

windward. wind . dry phosphate of sea. ghost call.

what of those breakers? the reef ahead slips the looker's eye
binnacled as he's rutted to the deck.

this prayer at sea. compassed to the reach.
housed in the helm cough. whore of the lying rope.
helmsman keep. watcher. bones whisper. hoo-hoo-hoo. what glitter's that
phosphorous in the waling?

gale pummeling the rocking vessel. rock. reef thief. medicine of night.

the knight parlays her pray. her lover never . this near.
co vets the . hour in. hidden room. come by the belly of her yearning.

you've se en many births ...


every day bringing you closer closer to breath.
of breath there is nothing. moon sun. clear call.
to hail the winning . north of sore, she turned
air into windcreeping night. She Knight was
wearing rag. Or the boom cracked. The fo'c'scle
many leagues to starboard. Haul the breaker.
What? Ho! then, it swirl.

O f these there is none
but the starboard craft
mistletoe toed its way to wealth.

the knight she carry a halberd
her halfself is each soft thing.
thighs peering. thigh s appearing hard.
woman is soft soft.

ocean gray wave whack hard.
we are sailors. bitten by the brine
the language we speak. is trolled by sea. and
mist it's other name.

so far no home been found. this rough bucaneer.
wont no no home . of their alphabet none has seen.

Crack! of the Boom! me hearties.
garboard her trestles. mast half gone
keel under down and water.

what is it we've found?

O th e water's cold O night.
O knight. she rears her column horse close
to the vessel o f its praying tent.
not near the lyric or bent sea hope.
of the sea horse whinnying.
garbed by her play horse,
she's nothing left to .

O this cloud scudded day is gray with far horns.
the city's burnous is an element cross the ocean ~


Rêve d'Orient

# france vivace
is 19:00
Programme musical

Rêve d'Orient (II)

Par Robert Rudolf
rediffusion du 11.10.06


Traditionnel Chinois
Dengyue jiaohui
Wu Man, pipa
réf : NIMBUS NI 7043/4
et à...

Chen Yi
Written on a Rainy Night
Ensemble vocal Chanticleer
réf : TELDEC 3984-24570-2

vivace radio
is fine delicate charming, like a woman's womb. comforting whole, filling, full, whelming life birth and canals of learning.

in late november this music lightens the mind ~

O the leaves fell
the snow
winter hanging on the edge of the city
surrounding it with goals
the unknown

as music changes
O so
the soul
twisting shallowing further marshes

what student of blessing does not know this?


TromBone ...

the poet concealed! reveled! revealed as TroMbOne Lover!

O poets
we take ourselves
so seriously!

life is

One muSt


as a


se ve n ty si x trombone s ~

Ive had this old tune in my head
off and
since late June

and finally get around to posting this you tube of it... must have heard it when I was a kid
and we'd go to cam p ....

And You godda admit that TroMBones are Funny

turns out it 's from the Movie
the Music Man

which I dont recall seeing

but I obviously heard the song ~

Great Grand Marching Band Song
Parade Song

Twirling canes
dancing bears and roaring lions
O Yes
and confusing as one does Circuses and Parades!

Alors Yes ! very funny! eh! yes .

Seventy Six tromBones Basoons Cornets and the rest of e'm piping tooting

Roar Bang Boom!

a lOud BumPtious InstruMent
Like Love it self
all Bumptious awkward and fuMBling aloNG

an d what a great Singing Chorus

Pure Silly ChilDishNess

I must admit
I Kind of like hte singin better in this seconde version

O well
its all Silly

Yes one must Be Whimisal silly and sentimental at times ,

yes? non? Oui, Yes

ALBUM: The Music Man
ARTIST: Meredith Willson
Seventy six trombones led the big parade,
With a hundred and ten cornets close at hand.
They were followed by rows and rows,
Of the finest virtuosos,
The cream of every famous band.

Seventy six trombones caught the morning sun,
With a hundred and ten cornets right behind.
There were over a thousand reeds,
Springing up like weeds,
There were horns of every shape and size.

There were copper bottom timpani in horse platoons,
Thundering, thundering, all along the way.
Double bell euphoniums and big bassoons,
Each bassoon having its big fat say.

There were fifty mounted canons in the battery,
Thundering, thundering, louder than before.
Clarinets of every size,
And trumpets who'd improvise
A full octave higher than the score!

Seventy six trombones hit the counterpoint,
While a hundred and ten cornets blazed away.
To the rhythm of Harch! Harch! Harch!
All the kids began to march,
And they're marching still right today!

Seventy six trombones led the big parade,
when the order to march rang out loud and clear.
Starting off with a big bang bong on a Chinese gong,
by a big bang bonger at the rear.

Seventy six trombones hit the counter point,
while a hundred and ten cornets played the air.
Then I modestly took my place as the one and only bass,
and I oompahed up and down the square.

Ah ~

Ah Mister Hardt and Negri have a positive vision
of the possible s of capitalism and betweens the big
machines of what line of coursing
as immigration becomes the key to Utopia


but a light

the first snow fall turned into rain

and riant rain rained right into the night where
i gotcaught without an umbrella
lost a scarf shoes
got wet

running in the light

what is the poet but a creature of light?

the first snow fall

the first real snow fall last night. I was visiting a friend, we played cards. I lost twice! it was rummy 500 . a game i loved . and usually i do okay. this guy is much better than me. a better card player at any rate. it was funny. i got better for a while , but he's good at strategy. ! How can anyone lose at rummy 500! it'
all intimidation and that wins the game.
it was hilarious.
we drank, hard to believe! instant coffee!

Anyhow, when i walked out on his front porch to leave,
we were both amazed
it was all white

the first real snow fall of this Montreal winter ~

a carpeting, a slight sprinkling on the streets, the car roofs, the sidewalk, the eaves of building, the stairs

it was a small breath-taking moment of awe ~

a wee shining clarity in the dark ~
I walked home it was quiet soft carpeted snow of fat flakes falling ...

air sweet even, if one can that about early winter air ~



Insist on a word
your destiny Mister D ~

~ news of the defence at last

reader's report has arrived.

should be news soon ~


dance in the snow
dance in the rose

prance around this diamond of a city
imagine river and bed of a lady
so far she's a star

in the constellation of there ~

Do you write each day Mister D?
each day is d to write to a secret letter
name not said
except to breath


each day is a kiss

kiss to lion ~
her birthday passed
a letter to send her?

oui yes? non? no? yes. yes. like Molly Bloom ~


Mister D not everything has to be a poem. But everything is a machine. So all is a poem of desire.

in how

how to write standing up

how to write finnegans wake in 12 easy steps

hold yer mouth against the sky

press yer ear t o earth

gather the sun into your beams

_inhale the rare spillage of cloud waste

murmur prayers to nothing
hive and hurdle the void

imagine winter is almost on you

imagine your bed _ in fiction and delight

imagine this this

__________________ how to turn the I into the episteme of fictive. personaficative.
as character runnels.


c.d. cherche

i like the way this random image work. this image of a painting was connected to an essay in the Nation about the late Robert Bolano.
Carla Rippey
The Gardens of Ciudad Juárez, 2006Carla Rippey
The Gardens of Ciudad Juárez, 2006

c.d. cherche tousjours


"ligne de fuite"

quand il est c.d. il cherche


il cherche.

cherche cheri.

so Mister almost doctor duffy

for two days you were sick.
cough. cough. dry cough. O so sleep. Then Sleep.
More . sleep. end delirium.
better 'n betterim.
you always write behind yer self Clifford Duffy. between yer half dozen writing backstage workings in devenirs. how can i breathe? breath? who speaks of breathing a t a time
like this? backstrage.

a. b. defendue

no news about the defence. though
dissertation was 'submitted' in august.
the machine, makes one wait. eh? one pay to wait.
that's the part of academicaca i never figured out.
never filigreed in . one fold to another. as a woman's ass.
or a man's body his nape. grapple the air . or say a bad novel.
on the 'worst seller's list' some foet. rinking the ice. of pretence &
concetta ~ .
well Mister Doctor all but defended. All but défendue.



to make

"inside the body many desire-machines'

what is adesire machine
? a body a place of pain if hurting
escaping the word
or word s
to make line of flight


inside the head the body in the body lot of story.
sortie de body . dans le corps. ou dans le 'crop' mots anglais dans le coeur
mots anaglesique anagelique. i l je u ave c mot elle
e ll e

ll e e

tod ay i saturday
it's cold

wear sweater scarf buy a new hat
a cold you have a cold

its saturday

many nights've come ad gone


Concerto n°20 K 466

08h43 - 09h13
Concerto n°20 K 466 [Enregistré en 1982]
Wolfgang-Amadeus Mozart
one ~
the purest piece of music that I know of ,one , __ the spiritual , , most s pir it ua l ~

'The Piano Concerto No. 20 in D minor, K. 466, was written by Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart in 1785. The first performance was at the Mehlgrube Casino in Vienna on February 11, 1785, with the composer as the soloist.[1]'

j' imagine

i imagine her breasts
her kisses
her arms legs
mine entangled

of course,

more _ we talk
on converse

j'ai jamais converse avec quelque 'un
comme j'ai converse avec elle
tu vue dire parler?
parle oui
parle convers

entre elle moi un entre elle moi un grande devenir

tu est fou monsieur!
bien sur c'est évident


et? et quoi?

O philosophe tu a pas des réponse s a mes question

amour qui brise
amour qui "shock" toujours

amour qui pleur
amour qui ,

et alors? donc quoi?

are you coocoo? monsieur?


today is friday where is friday in sa cœur?


et quand tu marche

yes walking or bussing it's here with me ,

this one,

elle ,

qui conte , ,

elle est ses enfants


Mister d you

tu te




j'ai sais

mais c'est quoi folle?

she is there

in an autre


i think of her head





do and do

yes, i

do .


rreee i do

j'a i

what did you make a
while back?

i made I made
I made I made
I gave gave

gave my heart
on a spit
a stake

a steak cooking high for the gods of love
i tol d her " j'ai realise que mon coeur etait brise "

, my heart was broken , et

Speech is born out of longing,

I made this a while go back. image is some classic sufi and so are the text words. which are fine contoured words around the line of love and becoming________________

As Rabi'a says:
In love, nothing exists between breast and Breast.
Speech is born out of longing,
True description from the real taste.
The one who tastes, knows;
The one who explains, lies.
How can you describe the true form of Something
In whose presence you are blotted out?
And in whose being you still exist?
And who lives as a sign for your journey?


Since winter's begining ... let us think about Stravinsky's grand
celebration of Spring ~

One can go mad with this musique ~

it is perfect and shocking and never ending
its twirls spin whirl

part 2 is especially Insane ~ its beauty and intensity drives one
to an edge over precipice

I know this as I spent years dancing

Outside of the agora of death
are th e knees flying
heels kicking back
knees cracking ~

surely the dancer is like a poet

et je pense a elles chaque jours
je pense a toi

of you to you


te l l me

tell the truth

how many words are there in language?

diction, idiom,idiolect, slang,patois, dialect, jargon, argot, brogue?

brogue to diction, word patter
round the badinage hedge over the wheeling cart

and french stretches out like a pier
of love and its trollies
bending on th e cusp of the mouth of the sea

opening its slip away tongue
freshening its taste at the rim of the sun
burning its


into earth

acci den t ~

is there no end to yer talking?why
do you put yer poems
upside down?
out feet in ass
head in mountain
tree in log
pioneer in cabin
rustic in

___________________________ let us reconsider this orament orient

Yes I wish to travel
I'd go to Europe by ship, boat, sailing boat, steam
chug a luglug across the great
the Great
Ocean Liner
mooring over the


now muster yer ports for repetition is the gase

garners god's good fracas

accident after accident led to your grace

reap the whole thing repairing jump.

bump Frau in meteor. ring of siren

dog of steel

now what does that signifiy?

an image an image narrating another

why did you cross the phrases in the stanza quote above

Why? because i am a baroque writer and I like to make things a mess

what about publication?

what about it ? is this not a form of publication?

where is my public O mister i.s.p?


you like to change the time

of things

looking for the foliage


marks the spent wake


et musique

  • réf : DG 423 612-2

  • 22:00

    Programme musical

    Par Benjamin Hertz

    Magnus Lindberg, l'alchimiste venu du nord

    rediffusion du 18.07.08


    Magnus Lindberg
    Orchestre Symphonique de la Radio Finlandaise
    Esa-Pekka Salonen, direction
    réf : ONDINE ODE 1017-2


    Magnus Lindberg
    Concerto pour clarinette et orchestre
    Kari Kriiku, Clarinette
    Orchestre Symphonique de la Radio Finlandaise
    Sakari Oramo, direction
    réf : ONDINE ODE 1038-2


    Magnus Lindberg
    ...de Tartuffe, je crois pour piano et quatuor à cordes
    Ensemble Endymion
    John Whitfield, direction
    réf : FINLANDIA 500332


    Magnus Lindberg
    Christopher O'Neal, Hautbois
    Orchestre Philharmonia
    Esa-Pekka Salonen, direction
    réf : SONY SK 89810


    Magnus Lindberg
    Related Rocks, pour 2 pianos, 2 percussions et électronique
    Miguel Bernat, Percussion
    Georges-Elie Octors, Percussion
    Jean-Luc Fafchamps, Piano
    Jean-Luc Fafchamps, Electronique
    Jean-Luc Plouvier, Piano
    Jean-Luc Plouvier, Electronique
    réf : MEGADISC MDC 7835


    Magnus Lindberg
    Orchestre Symphonique de la Radio finlandaise
    Jukka-Pekka Saraste, direction
    réf : ONDINE ODE 911-2


    Magnus Lindberg
    Tuija Hakkila, Piano
    réf : FINLANDIA FACD 406

france vivace


talking talking

talking walkie talkie

writing writing

around the curVe

of the thigh

that makes world

go round



in 1900

in 1900 you wrote 2000 poems. how can you do that you weren't alive. alive? i was alive in the sky of born deaths alive ....brontosaurus...

your night is a day in which
all things are seen

in Tim Horton's with a newcomer

with a friend
man with 2 kids trying to stay sober
he's got 27 days

without a thing

speaks very fast
has " an eye for the ladies"

his kids run away from school
when he's not there to make sure they

kids are afraid
of losing their

all they're used to
is the life
of a dad

who's lived a crazy life
erratic alcoholic addict

now recovering

the kids will flourish
so will the
father if he stays the course

the mother is angry __ naturally
all the years of

drinking left her nothing
but a pot of anger to piss in

things'll come to her too
in time
in time
time unfolding'll fold the folds of friendship and love
around the lost couple
their kids blossom like petals on the tree of return

each day a blessing
in this short world

you write 'funny' poems Mister Duffy

why do you say that? why is it 'funny' funny means peculiar, strange, puzzling

___ then humour comes like a rain forest falling around your head like laughter sinking the great gods of oblivion

and yer song is petal

navigate to the sun


November gets cold on the street
the tapping pavement cold on the toes
of women and men
they rush for coffee on their

'break-time' and the river and its whole wheat shouts
River ! River! arriva arriva!

what is this whole wheat river
but a night which caps its own breakers

whitecaps on the sea frost the river
is a gang of history always marrying its
pretence gathered by the sun
and repetition murmuring the


reverly of forest takers.

first sailors adrift in the columbine of the sea.

what is the sea?

do you travel Mister Duffy?
Yes I wish to travel
I'd go to Europe by ship, boat, sailing boat, steam ship.
chug a luglug across the great ocean
the Great Ocean Liner
mooring over the sea

return backwards as my grandfather did
bearing the immigrant Irish to this country and
his old aunt
carrying him here the child come to another country

whose country is that? canada? what is that country
where do your ancestors come from Irish and Jewish
paddling over the sea
where do they come

always a fear to be called
something you aren't the mark
of persecution
on your head

Ah, Cain Ah doubting Thomas
at the back of the church

pounding his little chest
mea culpa mea cupla mea maxima culpa
i have sinned i have sinned i have grievously sin through my own fault

yes what were those mumbled words to mean?
in the child feared for his self
a soul what was a soul to the kid
who bobbed for surgar apples
at St. Anne's parish hall
or where ever it was

what was the mother left with her four kids
in the dark rainbow of the sky?

where was the father in his ruinous casket

the boy already thought he was Judas
what happened to Judas?
what catechism was that searching in the burying sky

and the hanging man hanging from his hanging god cross
heavy hefted crucifix 12 feet high in St. Anthony's parish

the first burials you never got past over buried beneath finished
and the child
imagined Roman armies and centurions battling their way

and the child imagined trains-sets

and the child imagined food

the child imagined food ~


Mister Ba d i n ....a ....g e....

rose indeed Mister Villon
wore his hat

trippingly his hate

on the other hand,
he tucked under his chin

like a silver dollar
ignoring always

the latent content of its
manifest feet.

cheat rhymed with cleat
as tyger rhymed in Blake's verse
was night before prayer
a tenth

stepping stone to walking
Trudging rather the good tromp
trundling along as good cat did

good cat
yes, what was that cat's name?
proper noun or name

what's the differnce between becoming rooster
and egg?
the darling willows have spent their name
along with Elm

and Alymer there is no pool hall large enough to retain the smell of pencil

this any lover knows.

well, glober trotter we marched in saunter

come again. your mouth's a lassoe for gathering.
Mot h
and Moth
er are not the same a sex maniac
ought to know that

american lunacy
is not Lucille Ball
but Ed Sullivan's on your brain
on the surrealist fat fantasms of American collective guilt.

youre not American youre Canadian

which is another bent form of shape

O Mister Primer Beef Minister
I call on the Queen to settle this falderall of
badinage and witchery
between country &



where is

where's the Italian and not Greek verse?
the Pantheon not the Parthenon
the Coliseum not the Olympiad

Or say the shore of Victory
in place of the Victory of Samothrace

Or the Eyelees in Hellspont
versus the lidless scythe

the enslaved pardon
contrarsted to the engaged sheep of Socrates?

Is that Hill in Hellspont
are these Talmuds we ready in the scroll shipped bay?


yer vers

yer verse's always a
day behind
like a nice woman's ass

or a
lover you're just catching up

like the wind
in a simile
a silo

on the plains of Abraham
a nightmare on the hills
of Verdun

you've see every passenger
play as the bus roars and leaving
its passenger in the window seat

the working women furl their
sheet it's bedding for the clothing
of sailors

repair shop shipping and billing ... yer way bill has expried.

Mister Duffy this text must be reviSSed. votre grammar est superbe. mais tes jeus? de mots? tes paroles sont ....??? PLEASE EXPLAIN
alors novembre
et le temps passe

passe passe le temps
temps le passe
passe temps le la
elle est lala lala
elle est temps la
le temps elle passe
passe elle le la le la
la le
sa lèvre
passe d'ailleurs

est-ce que sa lèvre

si loin

in her loins
her loins
captive bridge span

chaque jours
jours chaque elle est le passage----------------

Do you have brains Mister Duffy?what are all these mistakes fr doctor poesia?

You are confusing your reader . Tense and Temps. Ou Le et La et temps passe? ou le temps passe? Tu vue dire quoi exactement?

what passage Mister D ~
she's the passage of my sex
in her legs longing
her lion loin

Her Lion Loin ___________________ I LIke this Phrase Duffy.


each jour

chaque elle


Fora writer you write very slow.

Fora writer you write very slow.


No slow.

You write striking phrase.

Personne comprends

No one understand

Il etait

He was

She was

Elle etait

You write slow


you write fast slow

slow fast

faster slower

fast as break





its a a trenchant fictive of desire.

O delire

Fou a delire

Lire a Fou.

Four a lire.

Lire fou fou le bar a Montreal qui s'appelle Les FouFounesElectriques.

O well .


t h e r e

is there a b r a i n?

s ome e where in my hand

some diamond in rough

alors novembre
et le temps passe

passe passe le temps
temps le passe
passe temps le la
elle est lala lala
elle est temps la
le temps elle passe
passe elle le la le la
la le
sa lèvre
passe d'ailleurs

est-ce que sa lèvre

si loins

in her loins
her loins
captive bridge span

chaque jours
jours chaque elle est le passage


what passage Mister D ~
she's the passage of my sex
in her legs longing
her lion loin

each jour

chaque elle



This needs repairs . even if in arrears, n'est-ce pas? O the error! tu manques des accents. YOu miss the accents Mister D.

pirate of poetry and penance

when I wrote this I'm not sure what I mean by the words
chosen .. air ... immanence..___ how it swirls......
meaning one is never certain

______________ this is an old text. written for a friend who was very sick...
I sit here wearing a bandana __ pirate ofpenance and poetry. A
pirate of the high seas of desire.
(or is that bucaneer )
(on a birch boat? a canoe in the canadian lake?....
I love the image you used from the buddhist idea... I think of myself
alwaysas a buddhist and
to this day when I pray
I say
the sutra, I cant recall which one it is
but it goes
gate gate

not having had children my encounters with women who are mothers

are different as I am like a loose child man who speaks on the wind

anchored to different women

space and time a difference in my life

that differs from the women who've born children

as to me woman is immanence, and I am air,
I meet them

and they are the air I breath
as I love immanence
the within-ness of the earth


this is an exerpt of a letter that I wrote to a friend three years ago, almost,.. who was ill at the time. and has begun her recovery........


you make spelling mis t a ke s here


y e s

howev er

it's a blog
not a printed book ~


all these blogs are on parole
patrol ~

one d a y ~

all your Blue dogs are going to have come home one day ~


ye s
a voice say
t o
a n o t h e r


C.P ~ Do you agree with mister Deleuze says about C Mister D?

C.D ~ how and why ought i to agree with anything he said?


the world is finery
draped on the chairs of its chiaroscuro

in the room
she's capped his
with apparent daring...


C. P ~ so you're suggesting its merely a film, a covering a veil , a lace voile clinging to the matter of things?

C. D . Suggest? ... how can I recommend suggest.. it's a precise instrument a quantum carrying baby's water.....

C. P ~ then why so many blocked texts quoted in french english or otherwise....?

C.D ~ I don't quote anything Claire, it's all memorized, like James Joyce reciting the first three books of Paradise Lost....

How are you , how are you doing? are questions that cause anxiety, almost agony! the agony of a stone to quote a poem from Clifford Duffy's first book, first published one, at any rate....

C. P ~ ... So where is your work.... she's flicking an ash as she poses this ... inquiry.. smoke curling upward climbing in subtle cirlce. and twisting here and hither and yon........

C. P ..... So your work is here?

___________________Yes yes, that is the idea....

yes here there here..there ... over the ...re..a nd
here .....

n i c e ~

the world

would be nice made out of ice


charms and thing
made of spring


naked fairies

dart at night


c as cult u re

I don't believe in culture, to some extent, but rather I believe in encounters. But these encounters don't occur with people. People always think that it's with people that encounters occur, which is why it's awful... Now, in this, that belongs to the domain of culture, intellectuals meeting one another, this disgusting practice of conferences, this infamy. So encounters, it's not between people that they happen, but with things... sososososoosos sEw Sewwwwwwwwwwwwww
yea yea yea .....
So I encounter a... painting, yes, or a piece of music, that's how I understand an encounter. When people want to connect encounters to themselves, with people, well, that doesn't work at all... That's not an encounter, and that's why encounters with people are so utterly, utterly disappointing. Encounters with people are always catastrophic.

(Gilles Deleuze interviewed by Claire Parnet, 1988)

.....C as in Culture ...
...As Parnet reads this title, Deleuze answers laconically, "oui, pourquoi pas?" ....

This is very funny. Comical. ________________________________

Etre cultive? hahahahha

Parnet asks what it means for Deleuze to "être cultivé" (be cultivated, cultured). She reminds him that he has said that he is not "cultivé", that he usually reads, sees movies, observes things only as a function of a particular ongoing project. Yet she points out that he always has made a visible effort to go out, to movies, to art exhibitions, as if there is some kind of practice in this effort of culture, as if he had some kind of systematic cultural practice. So she wonders what he understands by this paradox, and by "culture" more generally.___________________________

_______________________ Mister Deleuze and Franny.

Deleuze says that he does not live as an "intellectual" or sees himself as "cultivé" because when he sees someone "cultivé," he quite simply is "effaré," terrified, and not necessarily with admiration. He sees "cultured people" (gens de culture) as possessing a "savoir effarant", a frightening body of knowledge, knowing everything, able to talk about everything. So, in saying that he's neither an intellectual, nor "cultivé," Deleuze understands this in that he claims to have no "reserve knowledge" (aucun savoir de réserve), no provisional knowledge. Everything that he learns, he does so for a particular task, and once that task is completed, then he forgets everything and has to start again from zero, except in certain rare cases (e.g. Spinoza, who is in his heart and mind).


Okay you have many fonting loves. Rearing your outward selve.

So why, he asks, doesn't he admire this "frightening knowledge"? Parnet asks if he thinks that this kind of knowledge is erudition, or just an opinion, and Deleuze says, no, not erudition. He says he can name someone like this since he is full of admiration for him: Umberto Eco, who is astonishing, it's like pushing on a button, he can talk about anything, and he even knows he does this. Deleuze says this frightens him, and he does not envy it at all.

He continues by musing about something he has realized since retiring, since no longer teaching. Talking is a bit dirty, he says, while writing is cleaner. Talking is to be charming (faire du charme), and Deleuze links this to attending conferences, something he never could stand. He no longer travels for health reasons, but to him, intellectuals traveling is nonsense, their displacements to go talk, even during meals, they talk with the local intellectuals. "I can't stand talk, talk, talk," and it's in this sense, seeing culture linked to the spoken word, that makes him hate culture [Deleuze uses the very strong French verb "hair" to express this].

Parent adds parenthetically that this very separation between writing and spoken word will return under the letter "P", when they talk about seduction of the word in Deleuze's teaching. Then she returns to the effort, discipline even, that Deleuze imposes on himself, nonetheless, to go out, to see exhibitions or films. She asks what this practice corresponds to for him, this effort, whether it's a form of pleasure for him.

Deleuze indicates yes, certainly pleasure, although not always. He says that he sees this as part of his investment in being "on the lookout" (être aux aguets; cf. "A comme Animal").

He adds that he doesn't believe in culture, rather he believes in encounters (rencontres), but these encounters don't occur with people. People think that it's with other people that encounters take place, like among intellectuals at colloquia.


PhIlOCopHEe in a Bottle triple articulationzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz

Encounters occur, rather, with things, with a painting, a piece of music. With people, however, these meetings are not at all encounters; these kind of encounters are usually so disappointing, catastrophic.

On Saturday or Sunday, when he goes out, he isn't certain to have an encounter; he just goes out, on the lookout for encounters, to see if there might be encounter material, in a film, in a painting.

Mister Deleuze demande de iNSistez! il etait AristoCrat! AMours Saint!

He insists that whenever one does something, it is also a question of moving on from it, getting out of or beyond it (d'en sortir). When one does philosophy, for instance, remaining "in" philosophy is also to get out of philosophy. This doesn't mean to do something else, but to get out while remaining within, not necessarily by writing a novel. Deleuze says he'd be unable to, in any event, but even if he could, it would be completely useless. Deleuze says that he gets out of or beyond philosophy by means of philosophy.


Mister D was always commenting. Indeed he was a. Comment becoming. Long ago .

Parnet asks what he means, so Deleuze says that since this will be heard after his death, he can speak without modesty. He refers to his (then) recent book on Leibniz,


Mister and Mrs Folding. Her rhizome. Her suture was soutane to her butane.A fiery kind of gal.

the fold ! the Fold THE FOLD THE FOLD its it ! I swear! I swear----------

in which he insisted on the notion of "the fold", a philosophy book on this bizarre little notion of the fold. As a result, he received a lot of letters, some from intellectuals, and two other letters that were quite distinct. One was from an association of paper folders who said
they agreed completely; what Deleuze was doing, they were doing it too! Then he received another letter in which the writer said something exactly the same: the fold is us!

Deleuze found this marvelous, all the more so since it reminded him of a story in Plato, since for Deleuze, great philosophers are not writing abstractions, but are great writers of very concrete things. So, Deleuze suggests that Plato will suggest a definition, e.g. what is a politician? A politician is the pastor of men (pasteur des hommes). And with that definition, lots of people arrive to say: we are politicians! The shepherd, who provides clothes for humankind; the butcher, who feeds humankind. So these rivals arrive, and Deleuze feels like he's been through this a bit: here come the paper folders who say, we are the fold! And the others who wrote were surfers, we understand, we agree completely. We never stop inserting ourselves in the folds of nature. For them, nature is a kind of mobile fold, and they see their task as living in the folds of waves.

So with such encounters, one can get beyond philosophy through philosophy, and Deleuze has had these encounters with paper folders, with surfers without needing to go see them: literally, with these encounters with the surf, the paper folders, he got out of philosophy by means of philosophy. So when Deleuze goes out to an exhibition, he is on the lookout for a painting that might touch him, affect him. Theater does not present such an opportunity for encounters, he says, since he has trouble remaining seated so long, with certain exceptions (like Bob Wilson, Carmelo Bene). Parnet asks if going to the movies is always work, if there is no cinema for distraction. Deleuze says it's not culture, and Parnet asks if everything he does is inscribed within his work. Deleuze says it's not work, that he is simply being alert, on the lookout for something that "passes", something troubling, amusing. [Here Parnet says Deleuze only watches Benny Hill, and Deleuze agrees, saying that there are reasons why Benny Hill interests him.]

What Deleuze looks for in going out is to see if there is an idea that he can draw out of his encounters, in movies, for example. He refers to Minelli, to Joseph Losey, and indicates that he discovers what there is in their works that affects him: that these artists are overwhelmed by an idea, that's what Deleuze considers to be an encounter. Parnet interrupts Deleuze, saying that he is already encroaching on the letter "I", so he should stop.

Deleuze says he only wanted to indicate what an encounter is for him, and not encounters with intellectuals. He says that even when he has an encounter with an intellectual, it's with the charm of a person, with the work he is doing, that he has an encounter, but not with people in themselves
. "Je n'ai rien à foutre avec les gens, rien du tout" . Parnet says that they perhaps rub against him like cats, and Deleuze laughs, agrees that it might be their rubbing or their barking!

____________________ Bark! Bark! Bow Wow!
Bow Wow! Bow Wow!

This text is from Pro. C. Stivale's summary in English of the AbcD of Deleuze - fer the complete summary head here ~

et a france vivace ~_________________________ France culture est tres
cultivé" (

Concert du 15 novembre 2002 au Théâtre des Champs-Elysées à Paris.


1ère partie : concert


Ludwig van Beethoven _____________ This guy wrote Musique while deaf.


Symphonie n°8 en fa Majeur op.93_________ how is it called SymphoNee?

Orchestre National de France
Kurt Masur, direction


Ludwig van Beethoven___________ Ludwig Ludwig you old hound dog god!

Symphonie n°9 en ré mineur op.125
Christine Brewer, soprano
Sylvie Brunet, mezzo-soprano
Donald Litaker, ténor
Hans Sotin, basse
Choeur et Maîtrise de Radio France

Orchestre National de France
Kurt Masur, direction


2ème partie : complément discographique

________________ Disco Disco

Disco Disco Disco Grapheeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee