gringo interventions & coups d’etats

Wikipedia Poem, No. 895

the picturewomen that brought the fair says the flare of mysterious sun nests in blood. the same age i waited for you in the girls we could break into goodness. like as in loved. asleep. you die. no sun in roots and whiskey and seems fair though therfucking the place up, tangled in a ghost—hieroglyphics i dream of spider blood. like love, with its finger on the bar, i dream of you at scale, just a kid, really, laughing in place. tangled in a ghost—hieroglyphics i come to understand the girls we made you soak in barnight. i come to nests of you instead. i say lookout with its clear finger. what’s new? drugs wet with clear-air always sitting in nests of mysterious spiderstands they’re sitting out fucking you with stars. nest of mysterious sun. the girls we loved. asleep. you instead say, stay, i look for you, you, you in rootblood. the fair thought-fish, painted-ghost—hieroglyphic dream of mysterious sun in rootblood. the fucking on and ever clutch a dream like love ever asleep. you in roots and nest of sun in roots and place, tangled-in, but older. the same eventualities, laughing off of my fucking stars. i come to the coast, no one’s i light say, i drown in roots and instead, instead, instead. i stood lookout with tears. i come to understand blood. loved. asleep. you instead. i theater the barstool look for you where no sun in the blue-black sea they’re impossibly large spiders. i say, i dream of a mysterious man in a good mood. through the nests of wet fingers clutch the bar rag covers neon clutch at midnight, i look for yourself. good. the blue-black thigh, terror fingers the bible like a ghost—hieroglyphic dreams of tears’ stars. nests of example; eventually the fucking stars. the ripping of an abandoned highway, i dream of oscillating black preserved in some anonymous monkey’s heart, drown in neon; came on eventually, flicked really, laugh—they’re just stars on a path. flare of mysterious roots now love asleep—you, subsumed by coast.


Source: Kennedy, Christopher. “I Called Shotgun When You Died.” NY Tyrant, Tyrant Books, 11 Jan. 2019, magazine.nytyrant.com/called-shotgun-christopher-kennedy/.

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Tilt

Wikipedia Poem, No. 740

“That the paper of record could print such mendacious rubbish is a telling symptom of the ideological sickness of our time. The widespread collapse of journalistic standards in the United States is a part of a general and rapid deterioration of thought, language and, above all, cultural and historical memory.” The New Criterion

myself and the picture is dead not passed into something about their machen mōgen mache knife something i remain facted about that truck outside our home the purpose gruesome videos taught me something we’re next her and her dam; breaking life i am this transition she worlds sometimes with force

“Her friends have given her a toaster, which she shows off gratefully.” Laurent Binet

her dam; breast empathy it was to know i don’t fear death not passed into or through the neck bone someone else’s in college myself and picture her mouth and blood tissue i will remind me by opening traffic to ascertain remain remarkable to beat empathy remarkable to the exact degree of a mid sized sedan in slow mo

“It was unsafe to meddle with the corpses and ghosts of these creatures. A sort of generic or Pantheistic vitality seemed to lurk in their very joints and bones, after what might be called the individual life had departed.” Herman Melville

coriolis force something told anyone before she will remain remarkable to sometimes i for a dam; breath something teach me some videos taught me / by the asked to ascertain unkempt her hand she is death failing traffic to sometimes i force myself and my wife to take the asked to ascertain such remarkable scale

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Sources:

 

“Women Begin New Reign of Terror”

Wikipedia Poem, No. 724

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“He said I was fooling I am not a tree and he dropped his leaves.” Russell Edson

     annie besant
you 
motherfuckers 
      should see my notebooks re- 
surrealismo 
      a word near athens
   
admit your 
feelings high 
above 
     new 
       york
       women 
             begin new 
reign of terror olly 
found this   among theosophy bathing in paint thinner

   invite the unknown he was crying 
and so 
i cried
and 
    i cried
        and so i cried
she's getting thinner   watch it

RNG (Robbins v. Goldsmith)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 663

w660-3-loww

in that particular place
at that precise instant 

virtue in late fall      sniff
modernism rhyme disappear 
from poetry sometime in late fall    sniff
jealousy
the primary output of modernism
rhyme disappears from poetry sometime next week
early winter    is that   sunrise
or sunset    culture moving        
thereby the young reproduce    like culture
and naive move along       high-end users 
ibid 
originality    the key party of modernism
rhymes with commerce 
disappears from poetry sometime in late winter
when     on average     users taste drambuie and tang 
in 1910 if surrealism happened today    in early spring
it would be over in a logarithmic curve 
along with technology's potted hipsterism 

ibid     originality 
ibid     fetish object 
ibid     of average users 
ibid     modernism
ibid     rhyme

‘she uses her height, leaning into the crowd, moving her face close and staring fiercely, between screams and maniacal laughs’

Wikipedia Poem, No. 609

“Still, there are ways / of touching without bulldozing.” Ruth Madievsky

windspill
sail between
make it surreal   easy 
name a standup comic 
that could be   anyone
so we'll make it   easier
name a standup comic 
called salvador didion née carlin
ok   that   could be anyone
so we'll make it   sleazier
name a standup comic   remover 
a 40-year spill 
spot a 50-year turn 
into his own unique breakfast 
one-liners that kill a tourist spill- 
spot   a place and now he’s gone
tell me   about some   people       
who were   here
here there   here where   anywhere
hear hear   name a   dear preamble no       
preamble   no surrealistic buildup 
or any kind of fan service 
less rhodes straddled coffee   helios          
possibility to work with   voice made kind joke    
them haha yokes   or maybe little zen koans       
disguised as arid hardpan 
call out   morning coffee 
give helios at rhodes something
to work with   war   made kind joke 
or maybe   more or less

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Sources:

Remedios Varo (Pentagram)

Wikipedia Poem, No. 526

— juggling for
the cadillac having gawked
lustfully at sulkclouds
each
capped by a bichon frise

cadillac
having been gawked at lustfully
by lions and
this confident slow
heart a stepstage i

am the raspberry cloak
frambuesa
juggling for the cadillac having
lusted after loves
each

capped by sulkclouds each
capped by lions and this confident slow
heart
a stepstage
i am a mage-logician

with nimble fingers
and this confident slow heart
a stepstage i am the cadillac
having
tasted lust in gawkertown —

No Treasures Could Talk

Wikipedia Poem, No. 468

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“No treasures could talk the man who happily / breaks hard lumps of earth with his hoe on the family farm / into plowing the Myrtoan Sea, a shivering sailor.” Horace

After Horace

dear turn    satyrs into a farm     into plowing dust    olympic
chariots of the romans another man's    joy is to hold
soldier's life its camp theater    there he    was born
soon    he was born within sight of the camp    that's life
another's life    but among their blazing burst hills
with thrill the soldier's grain from    under a cup
the light-stepping hunter    stays not above the cup of light
but with the highest master    i am that farm    plowing nymphs
and a deer    scared by the    surety of youth    i was young when
the public's whim the day's occupation something thought about 
in a shady woods among blazing soldiers    turn    
and dear forget the sound of africa    no treasures there
just a town of ivy    it makes me    her flute and waves
sing dust    on olympic chariots    when

“The Struggles of Words”, 1928, by Pierre Reverdy

Torment wanders into the light beyond the roof. At midday, without sunlight. The walls are covered with snow, against a gray background. The eye stops and vainly seeks a better path.

They’ve rubbed away the designs that gave life to the crumbling walls. Some words raise themselves affirmatively. And the flood, too high, carries off the shore where the grass smooths the bank into well-combed hair. And while across the bluish rays turbulences whirl and slowly rise, silence falls heavily on the ground, without breaking.

— Pierre Reverdy (1889-1960), trans. Michael Benedikt

Wikipedia Poem, No. 349

wiki349

“They’ve rubbed away the designs that gave life to the crumbling walls. Some words raise themselves affirmatively.” Pierre Reverdy

   destructive 
  destructive 
      
        founded basin 
    there but 
exploding 
         
         destructive   
 and 
deeper 
 
         diagram 
than 
  that is 
there but exploding 
        
        destructivity feeds the
  case may be
      
a river 
  from the 
geological society 

     would 
exploding 
      destructive 
        
        destructivity 
      feed the 
   pressure 
in 
        that 
instance 
      there
  without 
 lakes