Tuesday, December 11, 2007

Dead, the others have not been separated
they began believing in a future of phenomenology

half-nippled away by the stones
the beauty spoon is the same in no body

they are governed by the same secret mathematics
panoptic redesign using limbs as portals

the enigmatic object
condenses
intensifies becomes
useful and penetrating

consciousness will vomit it out
this material intricacy of screams

diabolical excavation
goes forth again with the grater dul(l)y macerated

il corpo ha, il corpo avere, corpo
one of several stomachs we were being ingested inside
we prepare to receive grief.

*

Just as it is in time hindsight
a moistness from iron or rock or wind

the breeze, that collapsing world, our tethers
and what howl like a dog barking in a dream

it is wholly yours to believe me
but the bottom of death or dream
and consequently of superior dismemberment

your desire to be a cyborg
your body turning back into a plot

no longer a radio in a door or open shore
an acid slurping up the limits
tongue sweats itself into skin
and you yourself liquify through the smallest possible opening
a meat pie to a signal, an earthquake, trampling.

*

bone limbs and syllables
lepers are coming to town for prosthesis
that scenic parade where one develops
a double constraint and a double conjecture
distilled the blood of so many phantoms
so many blistered, lunatic warblers
a primitive strangulation of a true sexless child
his Burroughs face a mugwump of a saxophone
the pickpoet stupidity that was catastrophically sickened
Gulliver arrives already betrayed
into that thick lining of the uterus
at dawn bent at odd angles
nothing but an outdated eden
wreckage is never reducible to symptoms
a gift of his insane mucus
molecular grocery addict
unwashed dumb slut
some bordered figure
like an erect avenging blade
disemboweling its samurai

grabbing the place before the body that actually preceded it.