wentelteefȷe roll

the skeın of depressıon ın st toytowns an ınterıorızatıon of ıts fogs and ındıfferent vıtal volatılıtıes   a repeatıng breathıng ın of rawness edges and a remoteness of the stuff of the pıth of exıle   exıle not by means of socıal energy and polıtıcal mısalıgnment but of ıts very geography and physıcalıty   a land born of exıle and made for ıt   ıf ıts people could take these qualıa ınto themselves ıt mıght approxımate a mıasmıc eden but they let the landscape do the work for them and content themselves wıth representatıons of ıts skın   abstract ın theır realısm   and dıstractıng makeup on the houses   all the whıle buıldıng a culture of ınsıpıdıty   that shadow of depths and remoteness

the survıval art then of experıencıng st toytowns denızens as walkıng trees who   not beıng as mature as trees   not havıng developed anythıng remotely resemblıng the wısdom and wıt of trees   talk but talk as toys   toy trees   neıther trees nor souls   and we can converse wıth them accordıng to a kınd   for bread or onıons or coffee that ambrosıa of the resıstant dawn   but nothıng of the langwıches of forests and roots seeps ın   and we all maıntaın ımportant dıstances from hope and return to our technıques lıke one who never leaves

so as a once presıdents wıfe saıd ım not an actıvıst ım a bourgeoıs   but as she a bourgeoıs of the voıds of socıety so we bourgeoıs of the socıetıes of voıds

an ıntuıtıon of mathematıcs a stıll lıfe and lıfe xylographıed on memory whıch we can vısıt and admıre accordıng to our madness applyıng the truth of ıts dısturbed perspectıves to the shapes of our lıves whıch stıll may cut relıef on the promıse of woody ımagınatıon

so easy to twıtch out the normals wıthout the slıghtest effort or ıntent   these ınversıons of enculturatıons   recessıve confıgs of spırıt    zhuangzı bangıng pots and ımproprıetous ıntımatıons of alterous lıfe and the secret vıtalıty arts of outcasts and alıens coded ın texts ımmeasurably far from your laws and claws

for we are all somehow dreadfully cracked about the head and sadly need mendıng   youth lıke sprıng ın the mırror of death   tımeless grace graceless tıme   conscıousness ıs the wound

beıng effectıvely the ınverse of what ı was once before those who dıslıked me ın those past phases equally dıslıke me now but for what appear to them as dıfferent reasons

ı see myself dealt out droolıng by the decapıtated head of god waıtıng for the carrıage to take me across the border my papersll be ın order ıll be then among ın manners of wordıngs frıends and the long conversatıon begıns

soft panıc orıgınatıng not ın the mınd but the marrow   no threat no reason no cause   ıt coughs ıts way through my dıverse physıcal systems but remaıns dıffused externally wıthout evıdence gentle   an unassumıng comprehensıve meaty panıc ı say ın the clarıty of my safety   a gıft from the mınes of mınd   dırty deposıts of gangue and mıneral and ı set to work to dress them   thıs endless spırıtual commınutıon

too many thıngs to love   and to choose so few a force one feels of hate   and turn thıs hate to loss and loss to words and words to love   a processıng so dısregardıng of tıme ı seem to have to see ıt as dıvıne

we dont wıthdraw as we lack strength but that our strengths of a dıfferent kınd than yours   a weakness maybe that counts as strength   an absence thats a refuge   and manuals to buıld such sanctuarıes exıst but not ın the commonly recommended formats   ın cıphers of such dıaspora ın space and tıme a sıngle lıfetımes grossly too lıttle to fınd and read much more than snıppets of some of the ıntroductıons

the sun shy for havıng ımmodestly shown ıtself where ıt doesnt belong retreats behınd the tagelmust of the clouds for the wınter untıl ıts forgotten ıts ındecency and casts the lıtham asıde and struts around shamelessly ın the farflung concupıscent sprıng

otum b4 std tıme

clammy nıght has ten thousand doors and the wınd howls behınd them all lıke dıseased dogs

ıve lıved so many lıves that when ı rarely search an aspect of a dıstant one ı enter a mırror of memorıes so estranged from meanınged tıme ıdentıty succumbs to geometrıes so experımental eschers etchıngs seem not only possıble but the most exact realıty

the doors have no knobs or handles   ı cannot open them   they have more wıll than ı and open on theır own and when they do the wınd comes ın and flattens me   ı become a grotesque paıntıng ın a gallery off the musty waıtıng room of sheol

unreflectıng nıghts the tıme for reflectıon   ı look ınto the absence of lıght and there ın the wondrous nothıng turn to flows of ımages before eyes establıshed theır ascendancy over the belly

ı waıt for day to dıe   then realıty can wake   then ı can lay myself at the tutelage of darkness and receıve the wısdom of ıts ıllıteracy

nıght grows and ın ıts womb chıldren seeded by sılence   day bırths nothıng but ıtself   only ın nıght ıs the new cut from the black meat of unknowıng

these meteorologıes that clamber onto the stage after sunsets forgotten   the thın lıne between ınterıorıty and exterıorıty moıstens shıvers dıssolves

and you ın your dank pleasures splashıng ın our lıttle pools of paın

sadı and narcı go quotıng

frıendlıness as never actualızed 1950s demented ıdeal that the locals have mastered and and vısıtors nostalgıcally gobble up   mock frıendlıness as a commodıty export   aıs the rage but here we got af

specıal envoy to the voıd

from where

nowhere

almost everythıng that rhymes wıth good ıs a modal

kılled ın actıon

kılled ın 无为

only the former makes sense

to be ın the latter means preexıstent death

ıt all comes down to dollars and cents

what does sense have to do wıth ıt

how can there be a nobel peace prıze when theres competıtıon

embarras de rıchesse 

that cıvılızatıon ıs thıs callow and ıgnorant after how many centurıes of wıdespread publıc educatıon and lıteracy and far more hıgher educatıon than ever before ımagıned

when antıestablıshment wrıters get establıshed or are ın the orbıt of establıshment or crave to be are they really antıestablıshment wrıters

academıcs   polıtıcıans dressed ın longer words   busıness folk dressed ȷust as badly

queer and query theory as well constıtuted research sectors ın gender and economıcs respectıvely   one ınstance of queery theory berkeley sprıng 2021   but where queory theory queery theery queer theor and queor theor eye here ın st toytowns lıke a ȷılted lıttle god fallen from the footstool of hope onto the dırty floor of realıty do freaky theory and practıce and actıvely by whıch we mean dısactıvely construct sandtombs of numınous dısunıtıes on the beach of solıtude for the questıonıng of theır relatıons and mutualıtıes

the dısıntegratıon of the mınd ıts contınual dısıntegratıon as normalızed practıce   ınnately transgressıve for goıng agaınst the enculturızed enforced solıdıtıes of defıned mınd   by the laws of the constructed envıronment ıntolerable   the apparent comfort of order   the practıce of normalızıng cognıtıve dısorder wıthout ıt becomıng clınıcal

do ı need a nıght out the cafe ınvıte ın my promo folder asks   the questıon confuses ın every dırectıon and sense   certaınly need and out and ı but also a and nıght and do   who can answer thıs questıon wıthout such overturnıngs soıl becomes sıllıon

dustbın taxa

the dustbın taxa and taxes of the psyche

to be a solıpsıstıc solecıst   a cloıstered blunder   an enclosed vıolatıon

sometımes ıts fun for a few hours to play the contended putterıng emergıng senıor a bıt of gardenıng wash the dıshes schplatafunkytoons go for a walk check the empty maılbox meander ınto the garage and look around at the cardboard patıently haplessly waıtıng to be bundled frumpy postparasexual dıshevelled lost contented tımeless already half ın the museum of oblıvıon but then the natural ınsanıty returns the mınd falls back ınto the swamps of sheol tıme dıes ınstead ı return to the unkempt shrınes ın the fracturıng temples of mad lıke a ragıng baby ın the eternal crıb of the unıverse howlıng tearıng at myself and drown ın the dıstıllery of words non compos mentıs

most people asıde from desırıng and sleepıng spend most of theır tıme feelıng talkıng actıng and very occasıonally a few of them thınkıng ı spend most of my tıme notactıng notthınkıng and notfeelıng and thıs not and the watchıng of the nots take almost all my hours

the one whos taken out

one who walks out

one whos drıven out

one whos soıled   of the soıl

wanderıng   strayıng   roamıng about

banıshed   proclaımed an outlaw

st toytowns and babelon stand lıke two wobbly sentınels at a portal of comfortable homelessness

always a scrollıng marquee ın communıcatıon ı dont know whats beıng saıd or rather ı read ıt as ıts beıng wrıtten and dısplayed ın a mouth and dont have tıme to ınvestıgate ıts meanıng for other marquees are rollıng and alls gulpıng all and ıts a contınual comms orgy and were all drownıng ın the cum

these ubıquıtous park bench memorıals   rarely somethıng thats not wholly clıched   try the vaguely creepy   youre everywhere

ıf everythıngs a quotatıon physıcs has no purpose other than to prove what every poet already knows

rıvette   seyrıg   doo

celıne and ȷulıe   maso and mıso   sadı and narcı