in the ruins of lost civilisations

imagine you wake
to find yourself at the wheel
of a miraculous vehicle
smoking down the highway
to some destination you suddenly forgot

well wouldn't you even ask anything about it?

.

de quidditas et bedknobs

It's not a smile, it's the lid on a scream

—Julie Goodyear

I'm going to be a star

—Withnail

(Oh the shock has pretty teeth, dear)

who anyway, not Lotte, the male, sang that opera?

//Omitted, all the voyage of their life

Is bound in shallows and in mini-series

the magician in armani the guru

stands there looking like that

i'm going to be a star he says

with deep sheepish ignored

or (try got better( therapy from my future

think of him there that day all flowery

and embarrassing with his trying

(as they don't say in whales, Keep your Aberaeron

keep your bloody Abertmesisaeron!)

imagine what they will think of us

in 200 years, how cruel they will think

how cloddish and stupid, how unborn

how dead to technology and sophistication

/where is this line of the god flew up

what Hebroo scrip what desert codec

rcds this friv?/

¿but is anyway unborn dead

or only that sunlit moment each morning

before you remember she is gone¿ 

[singular they for instants 

when i tell some a joke they laughs haha]

hoho you see like unto a god that flies up 

it is as a heron what lifts water at dawn 

rises into silhouettes

of maddened saccade beatwingxz

over perhaps Dresden or othermother

flaccid with potatoes

O those mericans and their exorcised lingua

shorn of antecedent at all opportunity

down to mere function

for why should one waste time 

with the waxing god when one can just ask straight 

out robot I fuck you now—if denied

move quickly on it is best for all

¿why flourish and perform why¿

get it out of your mouth quick

so it is over efficiently, without superfluity

without Greek or French

and with as little Latin 

as may be contrived

for language cleansed of excess

to clinic sex-negative utility is all atavism

of the expressive, sharp, decisive

nostratic and primal grunt such a height

such an idyll from which we fell and fall

thankful at last to the elbow in the teeth

of a pre-PIE Webster—little wonder they elasticize

& plasticize each into triphthongs

of unknowing, delighted, savoured necromancy

the reanimation of the banished the instinct empathy

for/with the slain or bootstamped facial zones.maybe 

then nothing is dead but still

from crevices

where the lost invisible god jumps up

(do you hear me when you sleep i have died?)

wordy, well word up

fuck you, he says with his dripping schticks, I am Nature

watch this car.keep watching

80 miles per hour face first into a tree he attempts

to become one again with Nature

but only succeeds in dying drunk

on a bright day dripping his most ambitious inevitable

no you ain't phoney no more, J

hey

youse all murder in sunlight new york fuck

love 

as they don't say in whales, there is a taid

in the affairs of men

and a god flies up

.

Socrates just annoys me with warnings of anachronism.

Oh a bath full of blood or a cup
of hemlock either should suffice
to stop the travel of self-reflexive idiocy
I am not surprised really I am not surprised
O but just the other day my friend a butcher
as it happens and a worthy man questioned
the firmness of meat and how it is to be
evaluated for surely it might be like rock
or iron or even clay so how then are we to know
the true firmness. There in the marketplace
O out they knocked his teeth with stones
and clay and bars of iron and all was known.

What now can we say of the firmness
the iron-hard resilience
of marriage
in such dazzling sunlight
when all the world leaks in
and says it not?

.

Some strange claims have been made for the Greeks.

What nonsense that the Ancient Greeks created our ideas of physical beauty. We got that from when we were pre-human, and a strong, healthy body aided survival, just like we got 90% of our awareness of poisons and foodstuffs and danger from when we were pre-human.

Allow us the bigger time, you idiot specialists in the Greeks, who think all things are Greek things. To human consciousness human evolution is almost on the scale of geological time. You don't think of this, you people who look for beginnings rather than continuums and evolutionary arcs.

I promise you that ten thousand years before Mycenae the same forms attracted the same attention and evaluation in all cultures. When we see this today and like it today, we are not referencing the Kore or Kouros, but the far more ancient issues of health and survival. This is our wiring, and we did not acquire it as recently as three thousand years ago.

Almost all of human existence was spent as hunter-gatherers. Would anyone care to tell me what body-shapes were preferred, or even compatible with survival, for all of that time, if they were not the same as those which the Greeks (admittedly) venerated, but did not invent?

This is, after all, as always, the Sacred Way, the Hierá Hodós, whatever we think of it as we hike and bike through its blinding, now banal, chaos, now outlined with its adipose moped-mephitic kouroi. This is not at the end of the day; it is the onset of night. It ends as always at the tiny temple of Demeter, She who dwells in the seed. And don't forget she is and always has been a bee.

.

discus etc Myron

one leg weight-bearing and the other not ...
this is an untruth
one is weighted and the other braced
also weight-bearing, carrying all the potential
the other merely a fulcrum for the explosion

which will propel this UFO down the centuries
through our smoking eyes from the Severity
to the Abandonment

of all beauty. O it is a moment of shattering, it is an act
of terror, it is not to be contemplated

in its window-breaking vagabound and vagary

leave it to fly and its shards to fix
its immanence

too damn late now

.