double tap flarf

reticulated by the Military for feeding reliability
one shot through the neck in order to sever
the spinal cord and then another shot

through the eyes and an inch up
like that I says to her what do you think
do we have it in us to do it

with them all watching
the signal from the brain
that cannot now reach the trigger finger

—further it has reticulations
or many infoldings filling the inner spaces—

where were you she asks
oh I says you know
targets & then a single endosymbiotic event

with three or four membrane layers
you know how it is just

watch it go off like dark dumdums
bottoming out in the holding tank
you can still hear it rattle

only bring everything quickly, she says
lest the moment turn wayward and sour

between us waves of hollowpoint ranger talon
singing singing
as her muzzle drops down
out of all recoil
.
.

cinquain

quite mad
is what you are
Mr Jay Harpuhay
for eating that Cadillac car
that way
.
.

tree

there in the music of noon
he looks into my throat
diagnosing in a foreign semaphore
all the shit you been taking
he seems to say
your throat is backed up
you need a plumber
you are beyond the skill
of doctors
I will now recommend a good man
who works cheaply
with portable instruments
of light

there in my own waterfall
I am suddenly sad
as a tree
.
.

Globigerina Ooze

he zooms into her

she does this
pulls him in

with a gravity of herself
he awakes into her
twisting a lens into focus
is there in her swells
her frets
at this scale

she is all of earth and sky
longitude
great circles, rhumb lines
a spinning equatorial track
along which her sun meanders

—a hay wain lurching
down some sunny ride
he travels within

dizzy in her arc
shivered in the smoke
of a basalt sea floor
binds hard to her heaving plates
settles there

sea creature fallen soft
in Pacific ooze
.
.

toothaiku

as a buddha i
am empty of all things
but this toothache
.
.

shine

after a few weeks of this new start
though she could see he was trying
she could also see that it wasn't working
she loved him and everything
but she couldn't keep living through this
like this for ever
& so one night when he was fucked up
she slipped the gun
into his open mouth
and blew his head all over the wall
behind the bed
where they had made their babies
she sat there afterwards for a while
cried a little
then made some cocoa
and read a Stephen King novel
until she fell asleep next to him

in the night she cuddled him
in his dark uncomplicated wetness
.
.

who but a mad
person
would have soup so early?
.

.

a spell of making—haibun

the making doesn't cease with the passing to the matrix of the cellular message —it goes on—what I make of myself I make of him I am absorbed imbibed as milk as sunlight as affect I am animal cells plant cells so sunlight stored in darkness reigniting in tissue I whirl in him around him as fire as blood as message as language I build him we build him he fixes nutrients I gather them he asserts them in alchemical darkness.in the alembic self of his solar magick he is nourished is extended in growth in language in love in the ability to love through love he learns love he learns of love he enters worlds more ready more magickal walks unsteady in sunlight operates upon.himself in rain and falling leaves looking always outward gathering in fire harvesting solar fire and the world's essence the dream of night the slow creep of earth are gathered for his making

sounds of water
from the night outside—
silence beneath
.
.

.

Qadaffi on Israel/Palestine

Lawrence Wright lecture on Al Qaeda

that iconic picture of St Paul's during the Blitz

Remote-controlled musical toilet with bottom washing facility...

Nuremberg class action

in a sudden swoop this morning Mr Wolfowitz Cheney Bush
was arraigned in the wire for dredging during a sudden raid
by shock baboons of the eastern interior department.
in other news the killing of children by the application
of either reeling waves or massifs of failing concretion has become
so routine that it's now funny so what do you call a three year old
wearing a three ton party hat quick we gots ta get outta here
before the brown comes around and the black gets back and
the red man is a head man. andy murray won something at
snooker too. what do you call a philistine with no table manners?
haha. what do you call kristal and perle? depends where the
shock baboons are. oh all so ready to weep with terror and all
so ready to weep with joy. juvenilia has outbroken in all
provinces. the sun arched itself as a westphalian slunk
spread for the taking oh god just spreeled for sheens of love.
some interference is to be expectorated. normal service will
be subsumed. excuse me while I do nothing at all.
.
.
.
(Published in the New Verse News Feb 2008)
.
.

taps and sideflarf

Obama's day began
at the womb of he-Unknowns
at Arlington Rational Cemetery,
where he and Vice President-elect
Joseph Biden laid wrath
in memory of fallen heroes.
The two men placed their hands
over their groins as a uniformed
burglar played taps
in a sombre opening.
played taps in
a sombre opening. yea
played they taps
in an opening most solemn.
of taps and the love of taps
they sidled they sang
in their taps and their shucks
they shivered they shook
the while for the opening
was most solemn
and they entered it
in some agitation
of the humours.
and yea most solemn
and sombre
was that opening become
wherein they were enjoined
by the fallen to the love of taps
and the shivering of idle humours
and at this the burglar
began upon the final tap
and lo the world was closèd
in its awe and despite. lo.
.
.
.
.

The Hidden Massacre of Fallujah
(this is seriously grim watching, be warned)

The use of white phosphorus by the US in Iraq

blow rag

The feet of summer dabble
In their coiling calm and slow—W.B. Yeats

of that shandyan distortion
of the homunculus
aha and oho, as so:

my mother didn't stop the sex
to announce clocktime
like that oh no

she just shoved some simulacrum
under the old man
sidled outta there just so

to sit out in the roses
watching the cats
for all I know

took him years to notice
then he came out angry
killing birds with his blow

she just sat as stone
crumbling by the river
dropping in soft & slow

rushing away bits at a time
till all was rags on a weir
oh no, oh no

him picking through them
shouting loud love
growling yes and... no

till good thing too
was the river suck him down
& out to the overflow

which some of us
clinched was a mercy
yo yo we go

last anyone saw
was one leg and a beard
going fast her barbèd beau

downstream
furious in his last joke
ho ho, ho ho

she never lifted out
but the river I guess sang
in its midnight glow

yay all there was
river and some rags
far away shouts to and fro

you live through these things
O and suddenly
and then they go

I wear a tall hat now in honour
of being one of those
now in the know

so let us endeavour
down in the tubes
most fervently to blow blow blow

this my favourite bird
the murderous crarking oracle
of a midnight walking crow

now i really got to
go
happy to know
I guess
so so
.
.

(Published in the Burning Gorgeous anthology 2010)
.

Hudson River Airbus Crash

'A US Airways spokesman said the passengers should receive their luggage within 48 hours, adding: "It's not as if the plane has been anywhere near Heathrow. It's just partially submerged in the Hudson river." '

http://www.thedailymash.co.uk/news/international/hudson-crash-landing-still-better-than-heathrow-200901161514/

Tom Waits reading Bukowski

Robert Bly reading Antonio Machado

eno/byrne strange overtones

Raggle taggle gipsy....

Hijacking Catastrophe

The Power of Nightmares
.
.

after midnight
a sudden flare wakes me—
yes I want your smoke
.
.
.

dysnarrative eructation unbelieved to be untrue

take your hands off me for the last time—Soft Cell

some so dark shape it was that lay
lullay as a virgin.......... squawking unto the swirls
which flitted and flattened in lissome flight

holding hard hold hard this is or ever was
more and less than............it seemed riotous
though ......................it was no more
than the long droog of several grey battlecruisers that slept in scapas
in the going
and in the rising

and in the merest scuttle

of long ice long it lay
uncovered mantled
in quiet

thoughts of men
who gave only bubbles [and giving] thus nothing

eek quickly withdrawing themselves to sterile parlours in which to rot down
laugh as sheeps ................seeing themselves daubed
don't you get it yet you should
for the scramble............. laugh still ...O they lilt they laugh
at the lift [wherein] nothing more
but sky's slow fuck of muses......................sky's slowfucked elevation

and insignificance
of all that was before

the belief that held them
in such flat & stable systems as were then proposed
as the realities of others as fire reeled down hillsides
stripping away years ugh now thereby pronounces
all involved preemptively
& retrospectively dead

all of it to be fervently undisputed forever

in the fierce favour of wingèd flight

.
.
.

archaeopteryxmas card (London Institute of Pataphysics)

There is a light; the problem is there is no tunnel—Shimon Peres

If we do this then this might follow. The ultimate objective is the evocation of myth in the collective unconscious. The myth in this case is that of the mission and the manifest destiny of the American Nation.

What is true is irrelevant, is subordinate to the myth and the destiny. It is of the blood and the soil of the soul that we sing.

This is the reality of the future. Few humans can grasp this reality. Our purpose is to guide the ignorant into their future selves, into their destiny. It is unnecessary for them to understand.

We are the saviours of the spiritual song of America. We are the vanguard, we are the American Al Qaeda birthing the future. We are the guardians of the soul of America

—Neopsalm not by Paul Wolfowitz


[[[Does anyone see the last gasp of the US Neocons in the unbridled assault by Israel on the Palestinians? What better way for the Wolfowitz gang to try to make their lies come true than by throwing even more petrol on the fire and further radicalising the Umma? Get the Islamic world angry enough, and a heck of a lot of people will believe (all over again) that there is no choice other than to invite the Neocons (or their heirs) back just to survive. They might still get that new Pearl Harbor they wanted so badly. What better way than a little 'covert' war at the very epicentre of the wound that is still spreading resentment across all of Islam?

Was anyone surprised when the US didn't vote for a ceasefire at the UN meeting? Of course they didn't. It would never have happened if Israel hadn't been absolutely assured that the outgoing US administration was behind it 100%. And of course it had to happen right now, while they were *still* sure about that. It might not be so certain in a few days time. How typical of this US administration to leave with a last grenade thrown into all our futures.

So what a cute little parting gift for Obama. Does he support Israel in this? Does he support the oppressed Palestinians? The world is watching. If he's got any sense he'll be wondering how in hell he's going to deal with the probable escalation in resentment and extremism and Islamism and general ill-feeling that this latest act of covertly transparent bi-lateral madness will entail. Right now he seems scared to speak, though he did make one inept comparison the other day, in which he stated that if his neighbour was throwing bombs at his house and killing his kids he'd do anything in his power to make it stop. "Wouldn't you?" he asked... The sentiment is understandable, but the only rational answer of course is that that should depend upon exactly what is in one's power.

As all too often with America, Israel is showing itself yet again prepared to use whatever is in its power, irrespective of proportion or foresight or wider consciousness. Let's hope that when Obama finally gets hold of all this he shows some awareness that he now has rather more in his power than just weaponry and brainwashing, and hope equally that he can figure out how to access it and how to wield it]]]

Someone compress this for me.

walk on by...

eyeless in...

Пусть он вспомнит девушку простую,
Пусть услышит, как она поёт,
Пусть он землю бережёт родную,
А любовь Катюша сбережёт - Mikhail Isakovsky

I see nobody—the Stalin Organs
shrill at night—on the road
—they fill the players
—said [.....]—with delight
—to be able to see nobody
(the river bank steep in the mist)
—clear black sky eyeless from al-Attara
to the Ashkelon dream-Kessel....Shhhh
............................=====>>>>...O

O—the road at night—I wish I
had such eyes— let him hear
Katyusha’s clear song—they fill
the players—to see nobody
(Russian manufacture 122mm BM-21 GRAD)
—and at that (hush now)
distance—to see nobody
said the [.......]

("We will continue
to respond, to initiate and to harm...")
—the one whose letters
she has kept ............(Stalin Organs..................shrill

..............................................[of rivers]
..............................................................................at night

....................................................to fill .........[like a bird]

........................................................................we players
...........[homeland and their love]

.......................................................with ........................delight)

........................such eyes such exalted eyes such lame glass birds of drear exaltation how they swoop and claw in their scorned troposphere they tinge through as disregarded purple they bet they know they dream they dreck they reck they flop
.......................................................................till they drop

......................lofting they pop like transcendent moments by the pool
......................any one of them we could enter
......................& from any quickly wake

............................................................................in this stoop we are hunter-gatherers
............................................................................what wisheth not for farming only
............................................................................the prolapsing ........spirit

.
.
.^{(This is a transtextual poem composed of reordered text fragments by Lewis Carroll, Mikhail Isakovsky, and Ehud Olmert, interspersed with original material.)}

spotting on clomid

technology is beginning to work—Steve Jones

may binge the adrenaline after................................ all for his maximum recommended
draught no less..................................he speaks after/years/the mother does not appear..............hexagram 23

[there she lists/sheds/trims in the coastal volta unearthed]

......................................................[and viagra a fervent singularity] .............[Ur Nammu already a historian][such to steroids]
[you may have been rare]

reports
of sudden ..........................laments that he will after all be unable
hearing
were...................................to mourn his father before his death
considered
purely chymical ............. I found orgone accumulators overstated & finally

un-Reichian/Captain.....................................[got him on food & drugs
Clark welcomes you to disembark...................he dies soon in gaol]
to submit to baptism//au baptême
on the deck of Titanic a reported insufficiency of life [these were mares' nests & the mares
......................................................were even then at home]

..................here at this abrupt littoral
........................................................................she heard now bells from the fog evil magical creatures sprang
...............as bells from the ocean paraded there
.......................................................all night before her on a wet headland/at the buoy's moan/the wind's kick/
................as ghostly wooden scotch hands

...........................................................(parrot)
...........................................................for the pattering of glazes/aprons/flours
...........................................................whirled aloft. no sex in any of it. tiny hoof
...........................................................prints shook in the butter overnight. such
...........................................................of a turbulence it is. the dark boy at the
...........................................................corner. the Blitz then? transfigured

.......................... in its gathering clamour............................................... all of them.
...........................in spate. danced so. ................................................as to a jewes trumpe
...........................she is Femtocell.................................................................and Thermobus.
.......................... demdike devices clear on bright. ..........................................Hill
.......................... sides squat .................................................in the gorse. his wings not
.......................... now in the ordinary .........................................................spectrum.

ordinary—po: a splitting apart entartete kunst. ......................................freetown.(axis)

//so at morning on 23rd ...........................................................................the kitchen flag violated flapping art in its own .............................................................................smel that this Geillies Duncane did goe before them........................... playing uppon a ..................................this reill or daunce, small trumpe//

now after all of it
bring us quickly all that you have

.
.

National UK Stop Smoking Helpline.

"Call 0800 432 0011 for a free pack."

(UK TV ad)
.

.

Helen Duncan, ectoplasm & manifesting spirit.

Arthur Machen's Fairies

his body went walking about quite empty,
without any sense in it—Arthur Machen (The White People)

on the hill I wondered what was true
—Arthur Machen (The White People)


between an infant boy calling
out and a car's squeal at a bedside Astir of Eaves
the thing utters soft soft
soft as the soft Nexus of Wind at Dusk

upon high—black and orange waters

troubled in outflow by a slow heft of fells
into sluices and frogways and culverts there
and creeps and collects
soft-feeding of becks downhill

(of long Peat fires they sing they rupt)
as vaccary walls they are shoved askew

—eek now soft ages of cattle
in all their goits adrift

[arrayed all thither golden in lichens]

of black mosses now of the wind's caress
are the Abiding Stones over Wycoller
declaiming of churns
and loud they gurgle as underground water
at night

and at night even at night's governance
and with slow Thunder unfolding of the sinks
the shakes and rills that brim the unquiet seeps
nursing with night the soft touching

the strokes and yields the waft the heave
of sphagnum of samphire

and samphire its listening Wainscots its secret ways
its faery-breath'd fluttering heather

purple its wainstones its aorta its races

its races updrifted in a velveteen of consumption
down the wing-wet years

—whoever then what cloven throat
sputtered there and spake and wefted
in that inwoven space such a Waiting and a Word

—and in all its slow-gathering Silence?
.
.

pumpkin twilight

I gazed out through glass & mist
as cars hit the level crossing
—a rusty-shiny-oily raft—
too fast cracking their sumps
like I gave a—but someone
down there wrapped/blurred
for a dusk cold on a station
platform saw me—a backlit
head at a window in early gloom
I think shining—his/her up-
looking some affront as though me
not her/him was voyeur in this
sudden debacle of distance
where I legitimately at window
outlook out not in...then in
eruptions of magnanimity
(it having been hallowe'en
only two months before) I
thought no he/she probably
has no wish to intrude—merely
in such gloam at such distance
takes me for a late pumpkin

—on this understanding only
was I
...prepared to let it go
.
.

blue

infinite blue—
one high white frigate bird
sails home
.
.