Derrida Thinks He is Alone on the Toilet, But is Observed by a Vast, Decentralized, Anonymized Surveillance State

Wikipedia Poem, No. 786


“Blow up your life / Attune your senses”
— Carolee Schneemann

a cry a lunge maybe
the man’s raw unconsidered hand
doesn’t take authority over the woman’s
nude dross to the movie critic
up the mountain he bruises the woman
hides what she mustn’t take
authority over his nudity
she is shyte just to be available
man achieves or archives
the artist nonethelesses her yawp
bogart describing how he saw a woman
any woman the critic hides in the critic
he doesn’t take authority
over depiction of her with his raw unconsidered
shyte attention as a child’s interlude waning
the female identity shyte attention
although she had secreted the container
of her authority into her own deep depiction
brandishes it over her brain the critic cringes a cry
although she secrets through the chuff lunges
hogwash interludes the female ready to fall
interludes the male that shrunk pill to be



Have you ever heard of Piero Manzoni?

“I should like all artists to sell their fingerprints, or else stage competitions to see who can draw the longest line or sell their shit in tins. The fingerprint is the only sign of the personality that can be accepted: if collectors want something intimate, really personal to the artist, there’s the artist’s own shit, that is really his.” Piero Manzoni

Oh, honey… Who can deprive a word of its meaning? Do you claim the words when you arrange them? Do you borrow them? Lease them? Leash them? How do you own them, particularly?

Have you ever heard of Piero Manzoni?

You are a vector. That’s all. I am a vector, too. The second you say something is beautiful, or a poem, or art, it becomes that. It’s that simple. Anything else is violent colonialism. Stricture.

This is what post-modernism is about. And by post-modernism, I just mean a movement projected forever forward into space. Like a light never dying. Sure, you’ll stop perceiving it at some point, but your explication of your perception is just limiting the reality of that object. Those words ever only meant anything to you. What happens to them as they super-ball around the room is exactly as irrelevant and as cosmically important as the words (objectively) and you (also objectively.)

I poop on a plate and present it proudly as art, it’s art. I put your words in a grinder and call it a poem, it’s a poem. Nowadays, it’s all just a matter of will, marketing and polish. Meaning is expressed by how words relate to each other in the reader’s mind, not in the poet’s mind.

We’ve (I’ve) been doing this for years (times infinity) does the practice (product) gain meaning because it’s remembered? Remembered to what extent? To what ends? Because one can quote it? Because it has generational weight? Because it effects policy change? Because it puts one smile on one face for one fleeting moment? Because it locks one professor into her peach tenure track?

Ever wonder why Wittgenstein ended up designing doorknobs?

(I love you, btw, as a person who is interested in poetry. I’m not grumbling here, just twisting my own nipples to get a bit of magma flowing.)

Toothpaste for the Young Poet

Wikipedia Poem, No. 514


to rescue to operate on 
the marks of infinity to be 
transcended against one's will

time rubbed into lather
	for your opponent every deck 
		underhanded or made gape

i'm less 
jorie grammatically 
buys a vowel
your immediate opportunity tomorrow
	fidget spinner i promise 
		it's not you it's me this working problem has 
your poem 
wants to be bleach with its brief 
heavy handed whitening as declension

suicide i'm still
	novice be let bezos-loose 
		keep it just   write deep mystery

new tooth shapes become octuplets 
holding hands ripe bipedal feelings 
unbruised "skin the concerned"-essential 
is this how surprise 
	tastes? great
		all my new deepstate teeth 

shaping edits 
a poem but 
it has a point: threatening 
your own image/experience of the stuff 
	and when i wouldn't make your art form 
		how weird 

to be bleached 
	on the castle keep 
		for posterity

Wikipedia Poem, No. 208

“I came to explore the wreck. / The words are purposes.” Adrienne Rich


ok listen i
don’t want to
be rude

court fashion follows
cuttings rope or
from which rumors

and plus you’re
old building upon
years of respect

abound to use
verdugado from scandalous
illegitimate children’s songs

able work that
i personally redundant
love and admire

fashion by pedro
de castilla y
fonseca el mozo

but jesus fucking
christ give it
a rest with

this shiny coin
wide eye wink
wink farthingale bullshit

rumors about whalebone
spanish steps its
way into england

her wanton bough
surfaces as executioner
earliest images execute

farthingale derives from
conjecture cutting ropes
silhouette no reply

hand finishing thread
the edge matters
for you hems

each piece apart
so tiny fabrics
machine stitch research

the matter suggests
togetherness long quality
little weakened years

part of the
embroidery age oh
perfect seams intimidate

wink wink wink
farthingale but jesus
fucking christ give

it a rest
with this coin
shine wide eye

love and admire
bullshit ok listen
i don’t want

to sound rude
and admire but
jesus fucking christ

upon the cross
coin shine wide
eye wide eyed

farthingale bullshit ok
listen i don’t
want to be

plus sized and
you’re old building
christ give it

a respectable wage
that i personally
redundantly love and

plus able bodied
work loves jesus
upon your admiral

i personally love
and admire bullshit
ok don’t listen



untitled, 081220151051


I have toyed with the idea
of breaking into segments

I am a spoken-word piece
not too technical

the disembodied voice is cold
I receive mass media
detach from reality

we truthers are conditioned
perceive ourselves as lonely
despite the fact that we are vast

in the world
the true nature
of the 9/11 crime

Source: Reddit

wikipedia poem, no. 36 [hulking like a wounded grizzly bear]



      are many elk 
     hunters use off and officialist 
wounds, about 200 
keep the decision 
    beforest two miles 
        east of grizzly 
          bear ran off 
hunter-hunter from 
a moose carcass
       officials hunter-bear spray 
      handy and use officials hanging like a wounded Grizzly 

Madel said he’s dead 
the bear 
225 pounds and used 
      Marias Pass on 
that can 
be alert and 
       elk hunters to 
          bear hunters armed with 
infrared carry 
        it was 
dead Tuesday and 150 yards from Minnesota shot access its wildlife like
          wounded Grizzly Bear

       "This moose 

   is and to 
225 pounded 
      Grizzly bears 
made it 
yards beyond the bear spray but 
and Michael’s 
          yards the bear was struck
         Michael said he 
          was dead last Tuesday 
          and prompted 
a warning shot 
     can be alert 
an elk hunter-bear sprays but it changed 
        when the bear 
        proved handy.

         Fish and 
Wildlife off 
       the run of grizzly spray 
          can be 
     an elk hunter
it were
“State it can be 
also fired and fined
of some use to the same 
         vicinity of 
grizzly," Michael said 
did not hit the bear 
      with infrared 
“Its carcass 
    charged us when   
 a moose can be alert to an elk hunter-bear 
      talk with her from the far off spray.”


“Michael liar  
        did not hit 
scene,” a grizzly 
      hunter occurred 
bear spray 

   a wildlife of 
Glacier National 
   Park and off

    warning warning ‘like Michael said’ he noted 
     a helicopter a mile 
east of his moose carcass," 
Michael says to Badger 
  A spray of Two-Medicine if the elk hunter-bear approaches this moose carcass. 
When this moose carries off the bear 
spray and keeps the bear 
          run off, making warning waning 
   Badger speaks
as      management 
   arrive, and the hunter-bear sprays, reports it
“Hulking like a wounded grizzly bear”

Elegy for, by /r/Poetry

"The thoughtless World to majesty may bow
Exalt the brave, & idolize Success
But more to Innocence their Safety owe
Than Power & Genius e'er conspired to bless"
                             -Thomas Gray


a fancy ballerina
human connection is a fancy ballerina
is littered with crystals
         How do you grieve 
a profile picture?
fancy ballerina
     human concept
         temperature is a fancy 
       human connection 
is littered 
with trash.
         night in front of an open window.
        Hey it's me again
Blue skies and fresh air
        As I 
walked through the park, I 
Blue skies 
  and fresh air
       As I walked through the park, 
Blue skies and it is a fancy ballerina
connection is littered 
         do you grieve for a 
        profile picture?
    I could write a songShe’s a fancy ballerina

“Big Round Tits Played Like Flutes / Every Single Number is a Metrical Unit”

There is no war
buy buy buy

Charming isn’t it? How here, high, second storying
There can be none. How here, high, expanded in cowardice
Rubbing temples like Ginsberg at the phallic lamp


My curiosity piques at a distance and murderous is
Curiosity, suddenly I’m speaking East Coast Spanish
Universe-sized droplets kick across the IPA skin
Whip carbon dioxide into brief enthusiasm


Internal rhyme, do I care about the color of my beer?
I will xerox this or that, staple them to my back
And find another lover, lover.


Across the road, from a distance, is sobbing
Like artillery: Rare, brilliant, pounded into the ground
Another scoundrel ode

Powered by the fighting, by the recent sticky floors
By the Quick phrasing, beneath
Her thumb. Am I quoting that correctly?

Breathe, offset temple, breathe.

A lo hecho, pecho.