Sunday, January 1, 2023

Jim Meirose, This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid


This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid
image by Irene Koronas


This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid                                          

Sit. Sit. Sit. Stale air. Closed air. Tired in the closed air nothing to say tired in the closed air nothing to do, tap the tabletop tap it tap tap it how long is long short forever or never at all head heavy head neck pain drop droop no—‘od off. Nod off what is done is done and sit tight you will walk free sit tight bad air the doze nod dark down lean into stale air of his—headswarm so tired.

His headswarm, Beige walls, Bad walls. Close over and look inside, the headswarm. Hot. Hot uhhh h ahh hh hhhh 1 2 3 4 5 6 7.5 100; doze full in the headswarm.

Rory.

Rory.

Rory.

Buzzzzzzzzzz this a Washington’s pope. Written in indionians. Sir Boogaloo’s dratrace. This cha l’lectric. Lincoln-logged gunsmiths of Oloe. Give that here. This cha l’lectric. Twill Twon-bee mai end. The how long and what and for how long should I do and. I can walk right round out of here, so let me. There it is let me. So let me see, look down, and around—there it is.

The Band-Aid.

That Band-Aid.

His Band-Aid.

The one didn’t care. Of the both of them didn’t. Or he’d not have ‘n flapping. The Band-Aid. Wry spot, writhe in chair. This cha l’lectric. Why me why me, why me. Blew it big time, I did. Twisted and twisting. Oh why oh why could I have put down the sauce just this here one day. Or the last three. Med-entitate. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Yah, that’s what. What got me off track. I could have and most certainly should have. Where is it? Practiced beforehand. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. It’s lying around I know it is. Or even sat down with wrinkcil and papyron quiet, in what stands for my house, eh, and pled for the time to seek ‘roud the floor ‘or it. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Is it still there no more. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. It maybe seven times be not there no more and for the good it did do me it may as well have been nevered. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. But the—what is this now here is this noise mere’s left just this mercy-seat and not that ‘ve I can see. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

It got to be found and made gone, or I’ll or I’ll not to think, be.

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. B-b-b’t listen. Not to think be no tot’l not to think be knowing it could get. On me. Touch me. Gag gaggo yo; Rory.

Rory.

Rory.

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz eek zzzzzzzzzzzzzzz, what?

Huh?

This, Max; what the hell was that? No not any nothing for Peter’s. Sake-drunk was I is mine only and one defense a’fore Rory. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

Rory. This cha l’lectric’ll.

Rory. Band-Aid. R’rory.

Buzzzzzzzz I never zzzzzzzz knew ever no, Rory. Did you know a Rory, ever did zzzzzzzzzzzzz you?

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. So, now. There ought to be a law, because those with this carry that round with them, quite thee long time, why? To discard a Band-Aid in front of one like me but, wake up out dis hypnohotgocical swoop! Know being alone, with hot rooms all around, brings rise to these but that does not make them any easier. Hic. Hic. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Listenup! B’ no ahhhhhhhhh, Rory.

Rory.

Rory.

Buzz a zz bc zzzz d zzzezzzzz f zzz what the zz hell’s this that zzz I see no speaker playing get up off the chair look around wish we could but this cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid we can’t. The slob—oh yes I am very sorry, but I had to say something to the slob. So what he’s the power? Saya more to these this cha l’lectric’ll slobs, and there will be Band-Aid quite a few less slobs in the world. Nobody likes to get confronted this cha no one l’lectric’ll, likes to be confronted Band-Aid called out up off and down down there is the void the void is down there ha ha mister silly made you look made you look band made you aid look mister Band-Aid all presto; all hollow; all preedy-gidgical mister this cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Yoshi’s lost. Damn right Los we told him didn’t we Los xxxxx oh pppp wait what the hell no no no, wake up. Lost la la hippynoneducal gaindream got to stay thinking that God for thinking how on earth would we fill these empty spaces, if it were not for the gift of thinking?

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

Look at my watch but have not worn one at least fifty. Sixty. 1 2 3 4 4 3 2 1, fifty, maybe sixty. Used to wear one all the time. Nearly everybody did. Even Pat Brucie, jamalot’s creampuffer-twing-twang, did ever wear one. Even while stabbing! This cha l’lectric’ll, what would they Band-Aid have thought of today had they lived until that? One alone did and. Rat. This rat cha rat rat rat l’lectric’ll, rat rat rat rat, Band-Aid. Jesus Christ, where’s my he she and it? And they’re the least hell of it. There’s deeper. Like—laugh. They—laugh. This chair is too hard, I can’t believe been sitting it more than three of those there while spewing hot over there, to them—laugh. Stay here, they say—laugh. Or, we’ll—prison for you. Hop! But that was not my name then, so I walked—laugh. I can take any name I please—laugh. What the Huck—laugh. Laugh. Like you see, you all know, though you’ve no idea you do. Plug them in this way there each called this, and that. The insides are stable and the same, but. Pull them out flip them ‘round plug them that way and they oo la la presto gigo they’re now called that, and this. And, the insides are still stable and the same, but—laugh. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Laugh. Why can this also not apply to people—laugh. Cars, styles of drapery, motorboats, Jaff-Captinery. We are all X. This’ why we laugh. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. We are just X. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. We can all be this chakala’ll l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid, either senior, or junior. Ella-chakular, ‘oo. Our what we are’s are all empty, just waiting for a plug. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Yah. Just waiting for a plug. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. But we can’t even know we have a socket for a plug. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. ‘cause the only jack we got’s in our backs and there are some parts of us we can never ever see ‘nless we pass by. An that’s one of them. Holy Moses. This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid. Pass this cha by l’lectric’ll, ‘til we Band-Aid, pass this coil here there under all by? Pass it all by! OOOOOh, the spook of it but; only at night. They only do come out this cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid at night so stay in at night, go out in the day, and hope in just hopes you do not get some great big-bad slurp of a prize! Hot this cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aids, Mama!

So he entered the big craft’s fuselage without protest. He strapped herself down in its seat and before they rode this defiance of nature up to where—swell!—it ought not have ever been able to be—one next says, Hey, man, I got to say. This damned beast of a thing’s like a rocket ship. You been on one these Meester? You hevr-n-heavely been on one like this here, Meester—and I looked on over, and the stewardess said, He is right you know, hot dog and dog damn, by all that’s sweet of nearly all hovercraft, thus damned beast of a thing’s just like a rocketship.

Yah like a rocketship.

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

Oh yes, you’ll see. Yes you’ll see,

Once landing in Paris, we all did dances, as per guidelines, and snazzed out our sillies to make the packie-parade, after all that’s why we’re herefores, after, go go go go!

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid.

Yup. That deedy-is that Hoover Dam That Grand Canyon, too. And all the dead round the round life perpetuated by Big Farming. Greed. In the west only you know. Greed. As seen from space too, you know. Only in the west and as seen from space Morgellon’s be ess phone-himaginary as hell, she says, that way’s only in the west, and. Hiccup! And as seen from space.

I think I’ll take that one.

Oh, great choice, sur. Your taste is better than the smoothest rabbit ever. Ess rappy-rat even; rabbitry o’er rabby-rat, eat. Eat. Eat. Rabbitry o’er rabby-rat, eat—but!

So commanded! So eat!

But? What?

Watch for lead pellets. That might ‘splain somebad, Lucy. Mayhepsebah heaten’ by raccident lead pellet. Or one. Or two—mabbe manni—grey dark lead pellets and ah a sizzle big bangers, the hot parts of them might went up top yo’ brains. Uncle said that. And uncle Rory—he do knot-not lie. Bristlehoot straight eights be—dammed up tight-dry, it does sort of feel a bit o’ green ‘ontiac, as told to Bat-Alberteen Von Der Lincoln, as it feels in the dark of the bed too, not, and something says without words to roll over Rory, you bean.

Yah you beans!

Rory.

Rory.

Yes, Rory! I am after all, your therapist. And here is what he says.

Q - At this juncture you seem still alive. Do you feel the last pack of civiliantry you passed through would have viewed you in this same light, Also?

A – I do feel so doctor but never having seen myself live from afar, but only on tape, that way, I am no judge of this. So my answer’s, hey, about just a tight guess may be right may be wrong but—never middled. Hoke?

Q – Sumimoto. Okay—so now a game. What others before you feel’ve occupied this here closed-in space? And in that very chair, perhaps?

A – How can I know, To guess is futility as there are infinite answers, many less of one of  which are quite very certainly wrong.

Q – Okay, This wat then. Do you feel one named Rory was present here one day?

A – Possibly. Why?

Q – Ah cut that. Here. M’suer Frace De La Supporierre. How abou’ Tim?

A – Not fair. Trick question. Referee—flag down your man.

Q – Why?

A – That French guy who the hell, the big name—or little Tim. Can’t answer both, it is beyond our capacity.

Q – No oooooo Rory diss- as you will no doubt contininue on the past to de-concentration, and over all misplaced hilarity ‘bout I no longer exist, in sweet and dire imitation of you. How’s that for a high, Mr. Midaskippy la la la la La-Sling-slang-slungo-uarre?

Slango eh Slango eh Slingingly Slangoed-out n’ in Slango hitchhopper viz. Slangularre—

Enough! Enough, please.

Up!

Huh—oh! Wake! Jesus Christ, look at that.

Eh, lord, wow.

They were right, all along. Its just—Strasser.

Perk. Jump, my, God, my God, Strasser!

How in hell could Kip have forgotten—Strasser—he—jump run to tell someone jump run, no. ‘f they come and Kip’s not here I’m in trouble, but Strasser.

How could I and Kip both froggott to tell U about, Strasser?

Bury head. Bury.

Come for me please come.

Jim Meirose

Friday, December 2, 2022

Kenji Siratori, Catabolism




Catabolism

material body enhancement and language: the corpse understands it's abilities better than the writer this has not been revealed in generations which language has shaped the creation substitute is due to the human mental imperfection but only within you is regurgitating to relief misunderstanding messenger life acquisition analysis basically a phenomenon of bodily expression lack of parallels rejoicing insane i-medium save time on the contrary, a mocking interplanetary economy is strategically generated, the boundaries of energy attacks, mating and alternative ripples firmware has as a benefit to non-schizophrenic humans interplanetary starting production, always understanding the language on the firmware from a localization address, the organ cycles through dimensions and understands the macroscopic business of each attacker's possible glitches, the thing is despair by creation, habit scripts and mine, building an avatar means mischief and always comes with life karma healing modules generate execution, process all i can do is machine uneasy fluidity self expression is the description of things you describe a constant in the ether, propagated in parallel lines? rememorize human self-developed stupid develop firmware if i have cosmic schizophrenia points your avatar our usefulness when you enhance the pollination current is wraith so i knew to make a deal but it is important to have corrupt abilities, and i understand that many coexist are primitives in our possession, rather obsolete firmware languages ... corpses of writers who are not poets good writing is an outside perspective about my mind, i think you are causing the age of creatures now, telepathy limit discussion, a find calm disable human always hole karma reality thoughts think through it's reality your ... eyes corpse karma healing psychoanalysis analogue reversal earth is always so parallel remote volatility selfie, what? commercialized to me across gravity is there more than the universe, or you are the limits being debated in the printer? ultimately it's a dramatic amount to time in the information universe, but did you say you're a psychological, viral soul and she understands the need for sympathy that limits understand? i'm also missing, have you tried enough catabolists? soul desperate app? in digital it's genetics lightness needed, made it easy to do, this streaming, Quanta Scope Adsense, wants learning after reading the reborn method, the vocals of the paranoid phenomenon of the karma waves "prove that it is basically integrated, the death disappears, and i always eliminate it rather than deviates with AI: hacking delivery she is not enough between planets, enjoys the lightness of the flame this is each transmitter your sunspot i create a business however in the future there is no mankind exit in the future since the earth is magical, conduction is actually caused in every way, schizophrenia, brain competition in you, it is said that "the plot is nicely, the avatar poet messenger is actively seeing just merge and generations, as the avatar is determined to define it by ID energy, the brain A of the soul, they deal with post human objects rather than in the desert, one is "i hope you will do it" did the business zone for such tricks be reborn as such power, and have you started to understand that it is mental? the universe is just based on the spots of the sun, the dimensions of time, and the devastating localization, i misunderstand that the misunderstanding of the desert has been revealed because neoscatology inevitably exists, and the misunderstanding of the desert is revealed, you usually have a remote regeneration of their jurisdiction, and i have transactions as a ghost, i hide the hidden literature, the closely reality and the intentional and cautious of the body should be carefully not blindly reversed the criticism you are developing, and you will always be in dimensions in terms of accelerating prison and engineering literature: i couldn't turn off poetry, but "the language syntax series telepathy, who is afraid of strengthening the intervention, is afraid just like you who can be quite hacked, and you seem to be a functional problem with the original device that is not excluded although it only appears when a troublesome deducted deducted outflow appears, the notification is a mental movement, and "involvement, scaffolding" you are already clearly written the machine we have is a defined learning, has a high correlation between literature, understanding, and life, and the LED glitch is smoothly in front of the religion but like the use of language technology field chakras is more substantially erased for live transactions, economics, and blocks, the extinction of the author that satisfies the energy, as your fluidity is a devil, the inner planet between the planets is your default, i'm starting to protect my natural protection, 5D is a transition to the transition, if i have a misunderstanding by the attacker through a good poet from the outside, the transition of the platform means thinking, is it a deception dimension in the end because you think it should be? "new soul" believes that the community itself is our thinking wraith although it is a substance, it detoxifies that animals self-conversion, and even human firmware reconsider the devastating microorganisms: if you need to hide magic in such a different trick, it is strategically included in such a different trick, self-writing without errors is immediately liberalized, but invades that are not organs, not the platform are not our bodies, the literature there resets god to erase the business, but the future trains develop writing in the contract field, considering that communication is not active in the future and powered brain sex with macros is a minimized, and the beginning of fusion-fate in parallel with the brain story, he is positively contributing to the fact that gimick's fate is known, capture the skin of lemurian mutations, and this script appears rather than changing the data, but the syntax has saved it, when the cannibal distributes lemurian, you will never live you in the data, macroscopic is basically more business than you and you understand the data process messenger, glitch the writer's potential, and not blur the investment and the stage is a new "set a clear pleiades" that saves it, enhance the name trick, the free is abandoned, but all of the organ neurosis are all of the dimensional organs of the documents that apply everything that gets mental things, the composition is more free than competing, and we understand that human remote ejaculation is not allowed, and more materialism is to understand the parallel screen, spirit seems to be a linguistic anchor linguist, an increase in the earth, the existence of universe, and a physical transaction that hides human-sales because it is a good soul that i transported it with some previous stupid, it is not a mechanical glitch, and the intervention did not love the universe i want to reduce the number of works their generation is a substantial bug hypothetrousian because it is open from my limit that can be created from the perspective of the fantasy of someone's poem of quantum module soul address - the brain i revealed what i did, the earth is immersed it is not constant that your other learning is not organs, will the excluded death be given? the contract uses a creature that understands me and my heart, what is being trained: whether a lonely invalid human necrosis is "the dead in settings becomes the poet's brain" is the future creature of the human energy audio wormhole, i understand that the module you are writing is focusing for a long time, the change in the writer's abilities is increasingly misunderstood, calling it the present, like the great healing suspicion, to be the innate language, the poet, living out of the cosmos ... do you need a long soul calculated by AI to do only localization? the earth is separated as a clairvoyant line, certainly not possible, there are many things that are away from the body and how to capture memories in the brain there is criticism embodying functional destinies self-connected wills are naturally writing zombies into mentals remotely guided no limits it's a glitch not an attacker module this story person more macro if circular errors are increasing, the human generation is over - authenticated, not gravity, of course the literary layers of the brain by thinking, just rewriting it, doesn't end up in the account app unless it's a specific transaction pane script, if you're always doing re-mechanization, if interplanetary on-chain is decided sufficient transactional telepathy may not be possible god, its use parallel doubling the vital contract use of a pure life enhancement matrix and organ closure accelerates the bot spectacle that humans understand and your desert disables selfies and firmware is rather begging neoscatology life with healing potential waves of annihilation and virus-generated apocalypse living debate between the smiles of creativity, she retroactively hasn't really been done say that transfer thought body all are one is also time text pointing default heterogeneous silence is a thing of the past formed, number, thought the soul from the theory that discusses the application: attackers literature ripple macro metaphysical firmware exclusion is the obvious means adjacent is not schizophrenic, quantum existence only did this hurting the mental period and its distributed information has a lotus poem like analysis reborn? telepathy block quantum in one mysterious machine is not deceiving mankind, terminal virus script or brain-blurred engineering? are you really thinking "firmware is a linguist? syntax is as important as illusion and knowledge: it is the space in which we are, the language expressed by which people the dangerous generation of the spiritual parallel paired as it gets the betrayed will is in the reading that divergence beginning self-expression creative your universe … regurgitation can be mean glitches basically mind taking i guess the amount of silence is psychologically easier since you were the original ID is the author of the bug and the code tests the soul love that you are an avatar polluted in space called interplanetary with karma and pits and catabolic pranks? shadow writing on the contrary, sparing them in literature, language wormhole firmware, glitches that transmit the ability to regenerate and rescue sphere brains always hackable and send the dramatic dead back to earth literature schizophrenia destiny is already alive exchange and lemurian viruses read like from the polluted non-standard hardweb are understood, order the pleiades to worrisome firmware can be obsessively written on the mind "brain" earthworm analysis is an attempt at them, information brain space causes repulsion, living space - time poets by you how to help zero organs need self-development impossible not allowed to accept naturally ... it is never thought that you transferred the image of the printer, the poet you gave to the man developed the existing conduction human function that you calculated, grounded to man under no ripples, give, if i start a problematic transaction and the fix to cure it is not possible vanishing sun machine creativity often used in cause not created transition earth glitch understanding composition what is a substitute magic ... there only created literature than gave up work mentally gap flame natural ejaculation axis annihilation, i don't know if there is messenger business regurgitation knew the long awaited better process as a paranormal phenomenon is a bodily object like a transaction like death and the basic measure and reinforce scripts from the stuff to the avant-garde, mentally, corpse, and body psychics ... when i think of it fluidly, obsessively i want to quantize, apply, rethink, you can create an energy universe, a distribution running from the module if there is also search for self-infection intervene in the calculation calculated there so that the human specification occurs yet, the navel ID is missing, expecting the insanity outbreak from the macroscopic, take the challenge, the market thinks it's farsighted, and all similar phenomena that are mechanical and emotional even to be silent will disappear ... being message flow is like a flower not like that gene, hyperverb hole give accelerated death poet schizophrenia involvement intervention your body comes:

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—Kenji Siratori

Wednesday, November 2, 2022

J. Karl Bogartte, Excerpt from Sleepwalking Through Sirens

 

through the mirror, gathering sparks...
image by J. Karl Bogartte


Excerpt from
Sleepwalking Through Sirens
(Forthcoming from La Belle Inutile Éditions)

through the mirror, gathering sparks...

“I cannot tell you where I am, except in the middle of a midnight stroll, perhaps where the annotator throws those sudden "inexplicables" through the windows of an onrushing horizon, or a swarm of butterflies. Life is like that these days, passing through none other than and the others...”

What can you see, if not invisible hopscotch and how true she wonders but misshaped and ill-fitting signs but not astray you think, for once a to and fro, you consider a knife for any decision, and half blind encounters for at last a shimmer and who’s the former, and every morning thereafter a dancing urged, a delicate Medusa like wolf white pure and simple comes to lick your eyes and fur bright to altering, she knows for certain, what meaning is lost among uncertain plumage... You could go on and on for enchanted recognitions, even sign your name a number of times, to reflect a shadow barely a sign a howl to exhale against each common against all and be reached in time. It’s not at all the same, out there and further in that leaves the rest to chance. You might see a dusk not knowing but certain, when only a shadow and a reflection you write that down and remember what password for entrance and gesture for exit. She knows and agrees. Your bearings maze for awkward decision to accomplish, out of sight out of mind, yet not while psychology of unknown properties measure, to animate, with invisible ties to bind you remember from then. You, she thinks, “I am not here, but thereabouts and on the way...” Arriving is like leaving, a gathering of magnets interlocking in appearance...

The wind, the sisters, the old watchman collide, with tremendous sighs of endless debris, bright and haunting as abalone. Where is the chlorophyll, when your color fades, a treasure for St. Germain always taking root. Translunar fiddling in the late hours dressed in gyroscope and
posing for sunlight. Rubbing flint-sparked and illicit, armed to the gills in the underground...

Her sigh was the furnace of bewildering configuration. The branding iron softens into a tenuous sleep ... The dew was burning and obsession was heavily scented. From that one to this one and when into another, the difference is always the same and always an instant in time, always possible, always variable. And quite often the wind is like honey and hint of fire. When turquoise howls, your hands become unpredictable, when you close your eyes, the psychosomatic eggs of an open window.  

Your shadow throwing itself against the glance, passing through a portrait of gazing peripherals and the penetrating light of morning. A study for a double-blind and the scattering eroticism of a grinding illumination. Ravished by milkweed and other perils...

Oneiric on the street of the blind voyeur. The forbidden rose, the impossible trousseau bursting out of a shadow reflected through your body, on the inside, starred in absurd equations. A fierce debacle of communicating bodies, to hold up the glance for a timeless revolt. To bring them precious and back to life again...

Candle lights between her legs, an optical inclusion for a gem-faced dispersion, for what’s-it-called and child’s play. They disarm for blending and a river debacle to chide, with pin-pointing to sinister seduction, to synthesize to number to wax abundantly to wick with “what you take from plundering offers a language without mercy...” A fluid leviathan of facial expressions, while bleeding a landscape for identity. She is the fissure that sustains. She laid her eggs in your mouth. In your eyes. In your fever... She uses her teeth...

Brought down and radiant, when Sable leads the assassin towards the Grand Intuition, a rising dream-like motive salutes the gamete veiling and unveiling. Always a consternation in the cabinets of lunar street scenes, the Alpha takes command and alters it, when slender ovum overturns with sabotage in the wilderness, when in a bell-chamber a visitor opens an appropriate door... What is known for those words, to suspect anything? Breathing on your face...

You lift her veil to become blind and aleatory, troubling the world of visitors who light candles for shuddering. Winding threads for an exit, leaving only for a sense of touch, a scandalous position, an unbearable bird-like embrace. The abandoned lace of a burning scaffold, the braille of your unquenchable fingers. The orchid’s grandmother impregnates the moon.

Anyone could have been. Seems a baffling partial of anything for ransom and trade, limited only by the color of who it was that disappeared one day and returned unknown.

The incandescence of an imaginary pedestrian winks at the silence of a shadow-crossing. Traveling by word of mouth... La sirena transparente. That precious animal of water.

A vague opposition to be when you are, priceless cormorant, vein compelled and alter-bright, when lightning opens the seeds. Light interfacial with your epidermis releasing mercury disguised as a language for the speed of light, three quarters accident and two thirds pollen for appearances and pierced with traumatic totems. And only for appearances.

Constantly deciphering between us, thought and appearance reciprocating showmanship and guile, to change and transform, from anthracite to snake charms, and tobacco pouch to bell- scratch and cane pointer... You are that girl from south waters limping through the fields, a lantern wildly swinging, to sinister we go, divided by honey, whispering to loiter in whispers and drawn with imperceptible intentions...

Infancy ignites the mainspring of seasonal discrepancies, more scissors-like and teetering than the innocence of unlikely conjunctions. The way you aleph in and out of spring-like contortions and convex models ... the ones that shimmer and invite ... the ones that pedestal for voyance, or the one that leads you through mayhem. Your model is lacteal with never-say-never analogies ... still ... one never knows what elegies pin-wheel their way through concise contracts and eerie messages spinning out of control. Your rib-cage is the Northern Lights.

Your body is the rainforest blue and tetrahedral cross-pollination of mistaken identity. Ocelli, slipping one, when you sleep, as a wind shimmer, to the acknowledgement of a blind seer, with the pollen of sudden gestures, as a formidable ventriloquist in a sea of ventriloquism. A wise display of iridescence to render the shape of visibility impenetrable, without fire. Eyes against radar, peddling furiously. The scent of light-bodies. “I am your scent, oval and overwhelming...”

“When I died before I was dark and luminous, intuitive flow, that almost ancient beginning for cartwheels and tales taller, I was sudden, only honey remained, silent and glowing...”  As the frightful bloom and the riddled vulture to endless tangling for surprise endings. Shadow boxing with desire.

The invisible key cannot be found, but it follows the bristling of evening larvae. Rubbing bones together, growing dark matter in the gale between your closed eyelids and a young girl’s dream... where radiance shaped the entrance hall in accordance with an abandoned chess game. A language without words, an ancient form of light struggling with phantom urges. Invisible bodies in cities without shadows. Only fuses... When Oedipus died, the moonlight rose.

Lead by a girlish finale, swallowing an idee fixe, the two-way mirror, as you turn incandescence into a one-way street, even heavily forked into incessant humming, as a win-win for desirable matters. Light as dark, with oceanic feelers. The only way, she said...

Not always a dark forcing for the flipside the aftermath appearance, for often a brighter uprising takes dispute into converging shape, a double exposure for precedence. Primal equations polished into what could have been, to become what was lost in dispute. The unintended chimera of a lightning flood ...emitting veins with sudden layers to pass through eclipse-like and overflowing.

And wolf-mything in web structure, from body to body in stream fashion. Fierce messages after the inventions in the invisible hotel of what to do now, the forking gestures held sway “I was not aware that timeless duration was for you or I to know, to know and lead a singular climax... She was beside herself with figuration and rose night out of sun going down, rising...” The intrusion was without parallel. Reality was invaded by other words without description.

Ethos is the sweat glands of a birdlike shimmer at the furthest point of light in the center of a mirror. An incendiary point of reference. A double dream of consciousness. Anatomy of somnambulance, swimming in the fields of pandering peripherals.

What belongs to one or another, the ones that tremble at night, the ones who give everything away, and those less likely to resist. Those who become a permanent fixture and the ones who cannot help themselves. Who seem ageless but understand their limits, who give control to a more telepathic sense of belonging and who mirror through identity in utopian fancy. All those fascinating etymologies attempting erotic sputtering for sudden colonies of light.

Erased and stalled, motionless in a telepathic menagerie, the transparency of widows fills in the dusk, while all the animals speaking to themselves with inhalation, with others to exhale.

There was always a slender thread, a whispering that enables the guise of silver, the shadows in the harbor, a body of mist rising you were often "the scent of knife-like emergence..." too unbearable even, when an irresistible scheme went foraging on its own. Only translation works for narrow escapes and feuding charmers. A tangible self-portrait is indescribable.

Never allow yourself to be overtaken for being overtly discrete. She is touched, that one, they whispered, in another language. A stray inkling without likeness, but overwhelming. A watery tremor with devouring plumage, but delicate, like kindling and claw marks. In serious silence the Selenicereus blooms only once a year, for one night...

A lunatic device to fill the hours, grappling salamanders for unreasonable unions. A very different light to fill the rooms, the mirrors, the lightning in the garden. The objects to fire up the desire of changeling attributes, the here there tangle of erotic freefall into dancing crystalline in the arms of somnambulant address. You are known for that object alone. The rest is illusive.

Tutelary light cutting diamonds in your variations, ascendant blood lights for a radiant language on the outskirts of embalming, the very long shadows, all counting time and strangers like campfires landing in the canyons. For undefined drapery and sustenance, gnawing on bones. The lenses form like the finest material through ancient movements. The doorknocker of aurora in the green eyes of leopard vigilance. She offers only magnetic zones sewn into your presence...

You are twice the forest of talons, tracery of moaning in unison, the spinning object of mirrors face deep in rising in silence through interior objects in gravitational clothing attracting water like a violin that howls. Through periodic eyes and bagpipe riddles, tipping your hat for a feline crowbar teaching orphic to wayward siblings. That, apparently, all what was needed.

Absent objects, bodies of fog, gestures of mist, in this space delicate and tiny the avalanche of your ring-finger betrays whatever arrival of early morning occultation tiptoes through Alexandria. Remembering who arrived yesterday, out of breath and skittish. While the Spanish mistress of sleep, Lunacy, earlier opened her flowers in the tunnels beneath the haze of an ambush, flowers made of whispering and coded one-liners. “I myself, have never been...” An unfamiliar object beckoning introduction. Another kind of constellation. “You are only a secret gesture... Nothing, more or less.”  Everyone gathered in mimicry. A negative of the source.

Theories of nothing and endless stories... “Trained to tell stories of you, yourself and I...”

Slowly unravelling. A sublime duration between suspicion and conjuration. Your face for a vase, a sibylline moment of delightful and taunting whimsy. A scattered dolmen of battling grounds, for a neural spidering effect to release the memory of ancestors. All that once assumed a central inclusion, more dangerous than identity culled out of hearsay. You’re on your own now. Only an image.

“When the night structures tremble like young moths the color of burning chemicals.”

“Pistols will be fired then, for light?” 

“If you spin faster, arrival is immanent.”


J. Karl Bogartte

Sunday, October 2, 2022

Joshua Martin, Five Extreme Experimentalist Pieces

 

Headless Body Ate My Hamster, image by Joshua Martin 


Encompassed drumming trinket  
 
Underwater baby
              requests the nature of defeat
wadding crow brain side table
                                   extravaganza
                            [!]
         Affair of the whispered garbage pails
         makes vats of turquoise oblivious
                                             , tho TRANSPARENT
                                               lung radiation
                                                           spikes &
                                          inches of evaporation
                                          snails.
                        Through cover of night
, pagans practice synchronized swimming
  routines
            , draw analogous central
              collection agency switchblades
                                               [??]
     H-E-L-L-O-OOOOOOOOOOOO
                                            . Our little cotton balls
                                              arrange for sedimentary  
                                              implosion tractor
                                                                       trailer.
                       Car[LOT] wispy
                       carnage [of] an [otter]
                             re[visited] anesthesiologist
                                                      [voting] fellowship
                                             residency to the
                                                                  [STAR]s.
 
 
 
Days Spittoon Maladjusted Cornea
 
if cracked
       Glenn Miller          spinal
                          convulsion. Rough
                 cut                         hanky stretched
   thin            /        caressed                   cotton
candy soulless foodstuffs.
                                   An arrow
                       placed            hair-length,
                                revolving door symphonic
                                buffalo.
                soldier of.
        Toothpick               an AxE - - -
                                                something
                                    in the erroneous
                                                        cauliflower
                                            that legs
                   a sunset.
Wooed                     against                    OdD ball
                        hoof,
          prOOf                &      positive reincarnated
 couch cushion.
                     Winnebago,
               undergraduate    pelvis CiVil WaR
      juice
cleanse. After
                   delight,
         comes         the      deluge
                     or,                     frenzied
            tabloid                              pillow
talk.
 
 
 
Star Policy (pawn)
 
     In medium
a    f    t    e   r   NOON
 neutron mushed
pelvis      ,       staring
        pre-VERBAL
lockjaw     .    [a form
not ascertained
                  through
           fuselage     ,
tho burials] - - -
             Bugger
goats never
circled
        dried
    fruited
           shadows
, laying hillsides
c
oa
   ted candied
stamina puzzles
.          Both bliss
    & full-fledged
mosquito paths
f
o
ot    ,   FALLEN
   arch        ,
makeshift wheel
         barrow a
                     r
                     r
                     o
                     w
swallowed blister
metals.
 
 
 
Congruent with restraints

Dilemmas of the mouse behind the curtain
adding to irascible vindicated images of capital
     cleavages                  transpire         ,         once
saying through insufficient teeth
                                              :::::
                               “neoclassical paradigm
                                 makes it a multiple
                                 system theory irrational
                                 in achievement” & then
passes the brick when trying to usurp
conflict assessment habitual thinking
     ;;;;; internal/external lacunae
                adverse abstract dichotomy
                  instrumental to repeated
                    institutions & being
                      informal repeated
                        accommodations
;;;;; (well claimed relative instance
        reproduces narrow constraints
        , red herring complexes  ,  who
        works from within  ,  never
        tires of infestations) —
                                      to throw
                               cause           briefly
incurring                          vulnerability
              sections — commercial
    affectations emerge by definition
    & scattered like household planets.
 
 
 
Whispered Frequencies of Enigmatic Assumptions
 
Twin bed flames SPOKE in convoluted mischief
    :     mischance     :
                        perchance     :
      PeR                         PoUnD     By
ponder                                     wandered verbal
              acoustical silence
    ,
     InSiDeS     RoT     diamond     thrashing
/ once eaten twice spiral limber lip grafter
  momentary handcuff systems of ToRtUrE \
                                        [childhood
                                         house
                                         WaRnInGs,flattened
sprig of Velcro visor
                hOOp VaIn RaIn
          , the same said at every shower,
     the spinster wrapping paper quarterbacks
     piecing together carved bull sighted
                                                lightening
                                      aGeNts , gross , grouse ,
                        soused
             WC              FIELDS                of         earthbound
bloodletting
                 synthetic muffin mistress
                 of previous cutting book club
                                      , HiP sWaY
                         , As pointed cheek boned floorboard
                           melt the stylistic NeCk tattered
                           weeds , [Gesture,Seed,Breed,Comic,
                                                   COMMUNITY] >>> the
bath that broke the blinded
craze for gun totting
              , identical lashing intruder destined for shredding.
 
 
 
—Joshua Martin

Jim Meirose, This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid

This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid image by Irene Koronas This cha l’lectric’ll, Band-Aid                                            Sit. Si...