Cosmographia

 

A post-Lucretian faux micro-epic

 

“All Omnia.”

—Flann O’Brien

 


Table of Contents

 

Book 1: Razzamatootie

Book 2: Longitudinal Celestia

Book 3: Astonishing Parades of Nullity

Book 4: Moral Rectumtudes

Book 5: Insanitary Backyard Abstractions

Book 6: Ascendant Rhetorical Simplifications

Book 7: De Binares Natura

Book 8: Pancakes

Book 9: Unanticipated Rest Stops

Book 10: Diverted Divigations

Book 11: Demonic Vistas

Book 12: Oh Yeah!

 


 

Book 1: Razzamatootie

 

Razzamatootie,” Danny Richmond

 

 

Canto 1—Chicken Pie

 

Surprising voice out of clamour’s

jelly roll poultry anthem flags an exact

moment erupting tootie begins.[1]

 

How can you say that in Latin

when horns and whistles recall

from before a precise buried today?

 

Exuberance counters the failure

to shed inflicted syntactical devotion

in place of pies where it goes when

 

tootie being the substantive declension

of razz stumbles out of a previous exile

of insults into the joy of gravy

 

and thighs, don’t forget thighs

flashing through rhymed proliferation

of bang’s intimate further hope

 

That’s the tootie again, intractable[2]

adamant beyond imagination’s

admirable reflection of receding bang

 

big as all git out, further

openings seeming to stutter

of small pies steaming endlessly

 

When it comes back reclaiming

today, swallows dart through it

still buzzing with Dante’s voice

 

and swart ships, too, light sodden

air alive with bird song

and goat bells figure a pie

 

morning cannot surpass in other

mornings and songs of raucous

erectile excitements humming

 

outside the arras knowing

whatever voyeurs lurk in its folds

will never get it especially given

 

tootie’s refrain to the effect you should

keep your fingers off the clinamen[3]

unless you’re ready for the ride


 

Canto 2—Erectile excitements

 

Helen was another tootie whose

razz launched some surprising

acts out of Schenectady, bygone

eras massed on the verge chanting

her name till the cows came home

 

Cows here signify large groups

of meaning headed for the nearest

cliff or store window in the quest

Helen bestowed upon erectile tissues

yearning to come forth in shining borders

 

Sweet showers still ring with buzz

jigs the works toward whatever pilgrimage

can yet be found beyond dollar day

events in shades of dappled green

out the back door past art’s camp

 

Swell tales of recurrent flow through

old temples now given to tower’s

massive investments erected in names

taut with money’s tumescent tug

still speak of her tattered glory

 

starved and secretly barfing

in the bathroom in hope past

participles roaming the stretches of words

might open the secret to her

awkward posture and bleeding hands

 

The shop windows unaccountably

extend around former necessity’s

shredded and unstrung compositions

into shoddy colonnades of erectile razz

swelling with dreams of release

 

That’s where tootie is known to enter

or what H.D. called a tootie

eidolon,[4] casting its glances hither

and thither with reckless abandon breeding

sprees and spasms wreak havoc

 

with celestial balance while all along

keeping tumescence in hand tho largely

concealed unless needed to bring democracy

to some parched distant land

clamouring for cheap toilet paper.[5]

 


 

 

Canto 3—Clamour’s anthem

 

The clash you hear may resemble distant

armies if you squint and ignore synatactical

 

devotion as it rises tall and stiff against

sea’s undulating dream of further

 

earful extensions though even then

similarities breed in withdrawing

 

roar leaves faith to wander forest

whistling My Jellyroll Soul to distant

 

ocean proclaiming only to hoot[6]

reasonably matches the quiver

 

factor as it breaks against kiss

scattering with laws of uncounted

 

melancholy seeds of yet to be

surprised, unmoored razz

 

bearing extreme instances of promiscuous

sounding’s miscreant repetitions,

 

damp intimations, and wine dark

eruptions disturb hope’s nagging

 

insistent claim on laminar nostalgia

afflictions masquerading as cows

 

on their way home. No kiss can get

you past that[7] and even razz has been known

 

to throw up hands in gestures signifying

cessation of bovine blundering

 

while encouraging ambient astonishment’s

random misdirections and indiscrete composure

 

functions to flourish, all indications

of seduction strategies having registered

 

insignificant successes unworthy

of uncertainty’s luminous demand

 

to face the music and lift your feet

to irregular time function’s wiggle insistence.

 

 

Canto 4—Inflicted devotions

 

There’s something to be said

 

for those silk ropes under the bed

as Susan Sarandon proved unequivocally

 

with Tim Robbins when he couldn’t get

his fast ball magnificent though it was

over the plate though come to think

 

of it maybe it was leaves of grass

whose syntax John Winthrop no doubt

would have put in the stocks when it

staggered in from the bush smelling

 

of razzed out bears and the deep funk

of those pendulous boys though it’s

devotion frankly ups the ante past

pies otherwise friendly game of hold ‘em

to be raised and called beyond any reasonable

 

exhalation advanced devotions measured

in garlands by the pound might be expected

to bring to the table. Beyond that lies

mere poetry, shooting turkeys and holding

forth in uncommon saloons overcoming

yesterday’s imposition of bound rudiments

 

in surprising combinatory beauty

mechanisms.[8] The boggle factor binds

art to shop windows and committee rooms

haggling over expected regulation of public

tootie declensions. It’s no place for respectable

intoxicants and random maenads  looking

for a dance, the groves hemmed round

 

with blatant intimations of animal

departures and fleeing forms of errant

critter logic—infliction honks, a signal

to duck or watch your back when they

gather at the river distributing awards

to well crafted iterations of good old pat

on the back for a job well hung

with all those moving devotions

 

 

Canto 5—Joys of gravy

 

When tootie howls in an Ellington

mood adrift in the stuff of silk

stockings and curling smoke, razz

lays down and weeps for all the lost

 

and broken pies and gravy

deferred. There’s nothing, he says

a little animal fat won’t make taste

better knowing that’s what you’ve got

 

to get you through as it feeds

a kind of jubilation oozes

from gashed pies or rises

in song of lush lives lived

 

in heart of the worst it can

dish out. That’s a different gravy[9]

but there’s a reason trains

hauling it run into an ease

 

of transaction within the realm

of many gravies surpassing turbid

ebb and flow in a dance along

strands of unanticipated pebble

 

logic to break with tracks directional

broadcasts permeating moral

rectumtude’s ongoing assaults

on tootie sorrows and shameless

 

assertions of erectile excitements

armoured assault on wine dark nests

of terror and palpable instance’s

frequent inquisitions regarding

 

lumpy exterminations and other

interminable interventions

on unanticipated flower responses. Gravy

is as gravy frequently implies

 

an accessory above and beyond

not to mention within the fact

a veritable bolus appearing ex nihilo

naked, too, and yielding no significant

 

interpretations, no garlands, and no

feasible means of escaping razz deviations

as they wail and hover rendering

instant’s devotions rich, creamy, and meaty.

 

 

Canto 6—Tootie’s refrain

 

Tutti frutti is another guy altogether, he

lives in a different part of town, the houses

in disrepair though by no means squalid

it lacks the spirit of razz especially

as it becomes Razza’ma of the high

perfect towers and walls that do not

so much keep out as fondle the life

they hold giving it a public shape

in a space of endless pies

 

It comes down to angle of inclination

implied by tootie’s declension of laminar

strata, a question of kicking a certain

substance into the fan that clicks

away ticking off inconsequential yet

massive formations dwelling

in air infused with the breath

of old spirits murmur within the folds

of moist caverns opening tenuously

to their touch and cascading home

 

Little rootie tootie on the other hand

kicks ass big time, sharing the void

razz introduces in Epicurean echo

dances to loosen inflicted devotion

arising from too little space

to move, a neutron star like condition

also known as antirazzification[10] to open

all possible temporal calibrations

blowing the time dam with tea for two

 

The concentration of erectile excitements

tips longitudinal celestia into unstable

but firm configurations of toroidal

variance[11] meanwhile leaving displaced

damp paradaisal intimations in compromising

positions to fend for themselves

outside sheets of laminar forbidding

with hardening knowledge of pulse Walt

found in the sea over and over till water

we are laughs and yields its breaking

 


Book 2: Longitudinal Celestia

 

Canto 7—On earth

for John Clarke

 

The question of direction along barrel

of world’s unlikely toroidal motion

confounds business of usual exchanges

within given walls calculated

to minimize the risk sideways

glances introduce to Newton’s dream

 

Who knows who’s really beside you

at the dinner table is a question

easily answered only by those

without the sense to go out

in the rain where falling heavens

ante up damp paradaisal intimations

 

Push against your feet ratchets

up the stakes while further deliberations

anticipate unlikely guests and Walt’s

sea in all its wavy insistence refusing

to be mere instance much less

reference calls into question wet

 

William Harvey, 1651, notes pulse

and substance form together,[12] first

life in stuff beating, but why not

beat stuffing, as if that whole

wave and particle thing[13] hadn’t

happened or the mere memory of sublime

 

tootie apparitions taking the top

off the works and dumping you

head first out there with Pip[14]

contaminates instance’s demand

for attention constricted to non-

resonating Yankee rock pile, whatever

 

sequel invention dances out

of its countless chambers to whirl

in a swirl of Ellingtonian swing

repercussions continue to register

across a wide swath of the floor

sweeping us off our feet into arms

 

of earth’s non-harmonic vibratory dip

and up like the white knight in the looking

glass lifting off and returning with all

kinds of junk and occasional damp

intimations of wave’s further

longitudinal irregularities beyond wet

 

 


 

Canto 8—Usual exchanges

            —for Ed Dorn

 

Three years after George W. Bush Jr.

admitted before the world there were no

weapons of mass destruction thus

exposing the great lie he had used

to unleash uncontrollable blood letting

on a people who founded human

civilization more Americans than ever

just stated their belief the war was necessary

to eliminate said non-existent weapons

 

Is this a case of civilization’s auto-cannibalistic

destiny, some final withering of the flower

rooted in Enkidu’s seduction in a vast

settling into glazed eyes and inextendible

declensions of harmonic vistas all git up

in purple mountain’s kick ass majesty

fluttering diaphanously around lady

liberty’s surgically augmented charms

designed to excite maximum national

tumescence in really tight jeans?

 

The Battle Hymn of the Republic

was pretty hard, too, and Onward

Christian Soldiers caused more swelling

than your typical school board

was comfortable with though seven

year olds exposed to coming operations

in inflicted devotions and armed Jesus

penetrations within hallowed equestrian

intimations could already hear falling

towers symphonic ode to democratic

 

missionary position’s inevitable viral

rendition of Bend Over, World

banging around in Sousa modulated

regulatory rhythms designed to synchronize

boogie apparitions and tootie declensions

into simulated gravy unum arrangements

of formerly pluribus tainted wiggle

contamination’s multiple pie orgies

and shameless adoration of erupting

hoots and jelly roll funk declarations.

 


 

Canto 9—Falling heaven’s ante

 

—for Richard Rathwell

 

Are you in or out is not just a question

Savonarola might have put to that

Sforza guy[15], thus laying groundwork

 

for endless variations to proceed

until face to face with Bob

Dylan[16] or at least someone who seems

 

to sing like that in a sentence he had

never anticipated he removes

the stick from his posterior apparatus

 

and gets down. Getting down is connected

to rain just as in and out tends toward

unalloyed speculation on possible

 

position’s relative razz factor and slippage

as more than an accident of broken

or misplaced traction. Ante suggests

 

the green shade over heaven’s eyes

is not simply a sign, thus converting

sensible representations into footwear

 

appropriate for terrain widely considered

to violate consensual practices banned

in Texas where rain is not known

 

to go out much thus raising eyebrows

as to its preferences behind the famous

door where it has been said unspeakable

 

damp intimations occasionally

cohabit in specific postures outlawed

in various Christian republics and less

 

sanitary public washrooms.[17] Bob says

God, you must be putting me on

and Savonarola searching the sky for signs

 

of rain while not concurring

seems to indicate he’d be happy to jump

ship of only he could get down

 

and out sans brolly to boogy till the cows

passed by in paradaisal accumulations

of relaeased damp domos variations.

 

 


 

Canto 10—Temporary concilia

 

Whatever measure you bring to this

odd business of coming and going and

going and going it’s never less than

that brush of wings against your cheek[18],

concilia, yes, sweet as late season peaches

just as briefly implicated in fortunate

reversals and untended patches

of extraordinary stones, each ablaze

with singular flame only they know

in their hard, bounded tongues emptied

of all spurious intimations of punctual

harbinger’s artifice’s dolled up

majesty and laurel load

 

Left to its own devices it begs the question

for more sustained suspensions, more

interrogatory essences distilled into flight’s

fancy toroidal arabesques and distant

aberration’s unlikely combination’s refusal

to stoop to explanatory degradation

when pleasure of having met belly

up to the bar cannot be measured

in terms other than irrefragable

and evanescent quotidian dado possibilities

multiplied by unique combinatory

beauty mechanism’s unlikely articulation

and stunned repetition formula’s ever-shifting

arrangements of evaporating razzamatootie.[19]

 

Big bang instigations expanding pie

vectors spin katastematic pleasure[20]

functions past stabilizing foundation

dreams into restless assurances

of ordinary’s expanding articulation

into Emersonian jelly roll funk

eruption’s artesial voice intimation

that plain old you and me.[21] Smoke

and mirrors ain’t the half of it if

you take into account tootie calibrations

and post-quantum bop time wine dark

delta broiling with flows multiple

and magnificent, so that even stones

openly speak of variable distances.

 

 


 

Canto 11—Tenuous domains of unstable weather

 

The laughter of streaming water

is a language only available

 

during tenous domain’s unstable

weathers concoct in the night drifts

 

through our eyes bearing shadows

unlikely promise of alien intrusions

 

at the dinner table and unexpected

outcome’s provocation within exceeded

 

bounds former notation of rescripted

hoots and hollers, church within

 

a church Zinzendorf called his damp

paradaisal intimations of modalities

 

of love and its feasts[22] extending

angular domestications past longitudinal

 

distortions inevitable declensions

of razz into effusively executed

 

instances of fulsome prison human

blues till human already up

 

against the wall wheels about

belting out a raucous rendition

 

of Auld Lang Syne only to find

the screws vamoosed, the door

 

wide open and all time spilling

out in a swirl of restless tempos

 

scatter across crumbling ground 

hotly pursued by the vanishing point

 

and its posse of substantive interrogations

demanding to know who did it, who

 

might have done it and when it will be

O.K. to declare victory and get the hell

 

out of the range home once claimed

now crawling with irregular devices.

 

 


 

Canto 12—Inextendible paths backwards

 

They’re backward because forward

as a state seceded and regrouped

as some forsaken accumulation

of large wooden horses bearing

geeks gibbering blithely of soft

wet reception’s flowers and chocolate

and large groups of desert dwelling

Kantians doing the Wave

across Arabia Felix[23]

 

What a moment that was, light

everywhere, your honey reasonable

as hell and all the world laid out

in squares at your feet, the path

to the stone shining numbers

cross your heart blues recalling

inevitable resolutions bearing distant

formulations of numerical relations

hot diggety vanishing dog

 

In any case if it’s all a collusion

deluded of trees, then angle

of declension fouling innermost

lingering glimmer as it casts

about in tightening spaces

seeking remains of last stand

in images of tootie formations

is commensurate to any stuttering

whirlwind they can conjure[24]

 

The vanishing point meanwhile

having bit the big one exits

stage right half the furniture

in tow leaving not only certain

exposed intimations of damp

smelly heavens contesting with busted

up bits of former landscape replete

with bovine verisimilitude’s ungulate

relation to scenery but baring

 

in process luminescent deceptions

stalking in the wings where free

floating unlinked copies do the soft

shoe off stage in orders leave

old ways looking vaguely

dazed among crumbling scenarios

invariably wretched memories of last

Sunday’s frozen T.V. dinner increasingly

fraught over hapless foundling destinies

 

 


 

Book 3: Astonishing Parades of Nullity

 

“No one speaks English and everything is broken.”

                     —Tom Waits 

 

Canto 13—Time

 

Each time is the time and no reach

can reach beyond walls decreed out

of declensions of razamatootie warp

 

its woof. Now Guelph now Ghibilene now

chicken pies till the cows come home now

nothing but Africa’s agony sold

 

into servitude no pie can surmount. Poor

Dante, trudging those gorgeous hills

the poem unwinding through shattered

 

laminar dreams of home and parades

of nullity testifies luck of the draw

is no patsy you can bull around

 

like some tootie in a bad movie

about unforeseen collisions of collateral

passion leading inevitably to whatever

 

end dictates pieces’ facile arrangements

in baggy justice ignores cracked stones

hieroglyphic telegraphy regarding

 

ice’s attitude in certain circumstances

toward whatever gets in its way. Living

in its shadow did the fools have a harder

 

time breeding wars out of dead brains

fantasy of mass destruction’s inevitable

materialization in instruments of razzle

 

dazzle degrades razz into one more

disposable instance of insatiable blank

gaze sustained by moral rectumtude’s

 

laminar formations of well-armed

stupidities? It slaps against rocks now

still smelling of ice, speaking of old

 

tongues’ lugubrious interventions

in ethereal buzz nourishes stars

with lapping laughter rolls in

 

unreckoned in nets of advanced

rigamarole bedecked with whatever

garlands currently are on sale[25]

 


 

Canto 14—Declensions of razamatootie

 

Should have known the deviation

would enter as soon as moment’s walls

breached through obscure back door given

Dolphesque clamour contaminating best

laid attempts to reform razz’s tootie calibrations

into spread sheets when unexpected corners

requiring star nourishment merely to hold

out against recurring laminar fantasies

resembling crowds of cows on their way home[26].

 

Deviating cows largely occur at

inopportune moments, moments whose walls

have suffered irreparable structural

contamination leaving them gasping for a return

to good, honest derazzified erections

contained within generation’s non-ethereal

hump necessities blessed by reference

to tracks inalienable discretion along

line of least insistent bovine infatuation

until even home itself arrests no fine tooth cows[27].

 

Expansion as general modus operandi

resonates at extreme frequencies even

Buzz Corey[28] often interpreted as alien

along the lines of Philip K. Dick’s pink

beam[29] and ensuing cellular nova states’

alteration of both the void and the thing’s

ever receding dance’s Epicurean wiggle

factor incursions as they spin nebular

arms out to embrace  dark matter’s

unaccountable proclivity toward grace.

 

Such pleasures as Tuscan hills offer

their towers rising amid clouds of swallows

punctuate Dante’s stern voice as it soars

polyphonically accompanying dreams

of damnation and tender young promise

of roseate salvation’s damp paradaisal

fig intimations but all dolled up

in white and various belts of pure

non-deviating cincture vectors leaves

heaven ensnared in dehydrating enclosures.

 


 

Canto 15—Moment’s walls

 

Falling towers mark evaporating

image seeds and whole worlds drifting

into the rafters to dissipate among

dreams cut loose from any sense

of common destiny and binding

intimations of wine dark exteriorities

against swelling sea Walt wrote

out of and equal to in diversion’s

corrosive sublimation of further pulse

 

What sneaks in wrests incalculable distance

from bounded forebodings of Yankee rock

pile walls criss-crossing demonic

vistas with non-resonating matrix

incursions. Also known as Henry’s

nick,[30] it doles out dolor along with steaming

pies as if hoot inflections simply marked

ever shifting edges of incommensurable

celestial middle passage’s non-stop

 

devouring promise’s end of any human

sheen, that last lingering insistence

on Vanishing Point’s claim to reach

some edge within which massive exports

of freedom and democracy fall like pennies

over parched lands and inverted brolly

injunctions[31] ring from shining shore

to promised lands’ insouciant hope

antidote while outside with all that

 

teeming and unsanitary anti-regulatory

infection dances madcap red masque hoedowns

to demonic Bob Wills fiddles. Wanting

for nothing leaves inert dreams enthroned

and confounds hell’s clamour at gate

of further indications, dampening

hoot burst’s temporal expansion

involuntary ejaculatory response

screeches with harmonic mechanisms

 

polyunsaturated equalities and intentional

gestures of goodwill so that moment’s

walls then rise square and straight

as a Moose Jaw optometrist leaving

unsecured angular aberrations adrift

and subject to moral rectumtudes

outraged accusations of preternatural

posturing’s wanton metaphysical

sodomite violations of temporal purity.

 


 

Canto 16—Shattered laminar dreams

 

All because you can’t keep your fingers

off the damn thing[32], twiddling when you

ought to be focused on getting

balanced columnar irrelevancies aligned

with neo-traditional harmonic preservations

of past participle’s dehydrated tootie principle.[33]

 

Descending into unrequited dreams

of democratic vistas I turns and watches

itself turn into recollected bits

and pieces, that old gathering all dolled up

in frilly declensions of frock logic

implying substantial accumulations

 

of unlikely veritas mirages shimmering

across highway might amount to more

than proverbial hills’ consequent emission’s

banal exhalations and odd lexical

conglomerates. So much for lyrical

braces and wine dark celestial

 

contractions resembling climactic stellar

spunk gushes which up and walk

out in a tiff of offended poetic

sensibilities trailing clouds of metonymy

and metaphorical solemnity behind

firmly held instruments of polite

 

well-groomed discourse.[34] Stable exclamations

of approval whine that vatic violations

of agreed upon silence’s dampening unum

compulsions demanding civil and sober

Ken and Barbie gallery politess as a pre-requisite

for disposition of art booty

 

to duly sponsored dissident calculation

and efficiency zombies elevates intoxication

beyond acceptable hygienic norms as determined

in units of degrees Calvin. Absolute zero

in this frame radiates through sobriety

guaranteeing mediocre ascensions

 

and countless reassuring pats on the back

asserting that disturbances of unrestrained

and frankly rude incursions of sybilline static[35]

along the line of least recurrent lexical implosions

and neutron star-like articulations of immediate

chthonic densities will be expelled immediately.

 

 


 

Canto 17—Collisions of collateral passion

 

The lost worlds of Ellington bang

and knock against young grumbling

reluctant to move beyond disposable

regimes of discounted anger repackaged

 

in razzle dazzle corruptions of simulated

gravy’s unconscionable dreams of doggy

hotels replete with heated pools, feather

beds and five star meals. Whole worlds

 

fade and stumble and music that cleared

the sky for further incursions of time

formations seeding tomorrow with razzified

tootie precipitations is relegated to the back

 

of forgotten drawers along with the Paris

Commune and 1968. Unpremeditated acts

of lascivious mediation elevate otherwise

deferred buzzing porne  constitutions

 

to unsettled proclamations of emancipatory

Walden apparitions etched in evaporating

moments’ residual streams of tears

and exclamations of damp, cellular contractions

 

the pulse situated in molecular reformation

extracting itself in resonant imbroglios. Razz

rises among the ashes howling for Tootie to join

him in bang’s lingering vibratory sub-woofer

 

wiggle instigation, the sub-voce of dark

matter’s night song, its inter-stellar hoochy

coochy croon and together they burn

across indigo skies making no claim on further

 

swaths, lighting the aether  with veils of flickering

vanishing acts and pointless pirouettes etching

unpremeditated figures of  confusing and sometime

boring anti-veritas incursions.[36] Meanwhile back

 

beckons as always, not toward erotic

combustions as they configured antic mind songs[37]

among bedraggled intimations of further

worlds in ordinary time, but as intensity’s

 

demand for original and unique statements

of navel’s singularly specular claim to precious

formulations designed to satisfy editorial demands

for pre-established anti-thinking satisfactions[38].

 

 


 

Canto 18—Weapons of mass razzle dazzle

 

Further unraveling notations to the contrary

opens a final movement of temporary

concilia extracted contra natura and with

living memory’s sad arrangement of once again

down the garden path of unnoticed

coercions and inflicted devotions all dolled

up in erectile excitement’s tales of current fashion

 

Exporting democracy in this sense amounts

to proverbial hills’ consequent exhalations

augmented with rhetorical simplifications

unerring garble factor frequently adorned

with floral imagery and intense metaphorical

turns down picturesque lanes crowded

with cows. Coming as no surprise

 

coagulating meaning interrupts attempts

at diverting seamless instances vanishing

resistance, swelling with untoward

admonitions regarding market based

truth disseminations and general gas

emissions strapped into pilot suits

and parachutes buckled up to maximize

 

bulging crotch testimonials to presidential

manhood’s assurance erectile certitude’s

control systems are go[39]. The contribution

of rolled socks to visual signals heavy

breathing invocations and massive

unipolar instrumentalities cannot

be detailed due to stabilized embargos

 

of veritas incursions and vino revelations

also known as consensus expulsion’s

daily reality pie served up steaming

and ready for instant consumption

with your venti de-caf non-fat

latte. The unavoidable passing away  of tens

of thousands of Iraqis while in pursuit

 

of democratic vistas ineluctable

calculations of packaged benefits

accruing to deal’s apotheosis in unlimited

deposits of material substantive’s market

values should be understood strictly

in terms of pagan exchange’s weight

function in the glimmering scales of capital.

 


 

Book 4: Moral Rectumtudes

 

“If I knew for certain that a man was coming to my home with the conscious design of doing me good, I should run for my life.” 

                     —Henry David Thoreau, Walden.

 

 

Canto 19—Banal exhalations

 

What smells is not so much the carcass

too long in last light’s dwindling

 

thermal emissions as leaking remnants

of last year’s guaranteed certitude

 

regarding fallacious combinatory

agent’s power to transubstantiate

 

proverbial hills’ porne emissions

into consecrated exhalations of meat free

 

orders of non-messy, moistureless

luv zombies.[40] The incidence of reflection

 

declines proportionately to the magnitude

of density of simulated angelic

 

stabilizer mass. Then doing good looks

like a cement truck, but all cleaned up

 

and decorated with transcendent

meditative reflections of quick set

 

dreams harbouring secrets of Jimmy

Hoffa’s ultimate proclivity towards unrequited

 

vanishing points’ inestimable determination

of frequently forgotten foundational

 

inclusions  on which erections of grand

filigreed splendor rest sure in evasions

 

of interrogatory penetrations might

otherwise reveal deeply contaminated

 

confusions and boring absence

of intensities bind bones and other

 

materials quietly vibrating to messages

reeking of Sirian business in stable

 

formations suitable for large scale exterior

extensions and vibratory excitement

 

suppression architecture’s spatial

resemblance to big box store injunctions

 

to forget any awkward claims of reason

beyond lower taxes’ sacred compulsion status.


 

 

Canto 20—Just say no

 

After having said it does the contraction

protect essential pre-existing lack

 

of circulation from the threat expansion

or hidden signals in dark matter’s

 

background radiation[41] designed to seduce

even the most wary and unspoiled

 

into degrading and compromising positions

pose to anti-hoot arrangements and ongoing

 

suppression of erupting gravy celebrations

and pie in the face mitochondrial destiny

 

determinations? On the other hand

offers at least a refraction of broken

 

but persistent inclinations leading

down and possibly out of badly wallpapered

 

containment strategies all dolled up

as collective agreement on homeward’s

 

inevitable prize for bold poetic

expression. Unauthorized abandonment

 

of powerful metaphoric necessities

result in automatic benching

 

and compulsory excision from lists

of approved teaching tools, thus elevating

 

Urizenic two step inhibitory exclusion

compulsions which eloquently declaim

 

rational critical principles’ defense

of bovine intentions even as they fade

 

into knowing what they like[42] along with

vanishing point’s undeclared but violent claim

 

on corners, shadows, and spatial torsions

twist tootie’s arm up and back until all

 

multiversal emissions and universal boundary

leakages are recontained within eternal uncle.


 

 

 

Canto 21—The war on everything bad

 

The unum reflex mode eliminating

pockets of resistance and promising as many

 

chickens as your little pot can hold

and supersized helpings of genuine simulated

 

gravy and biscuits stipulates various lexical

formations identified as undermining

 

martial determination’s bulging crotch

regulatory compulsions will be bound

 

blindfolded to predetermined sticks

in the mud and subjected to multiple

 

indignities including arbitrary assertions

of sleeper cell infections wired up to direct

 

pre-frontal insertions of lyrical intensities

draped in morose or alternately ecstatic

 

you fill in the blank declensions of I

metaphorically amplified to resemble

 

the vanishing point dressed in trench

coat and more than happy to reveal

 

well-hung inclinations toward self

exposure as a matter of unquestionable

 

faith in the inevitable conquest of spatial

aberrations as part of the overall program

 

of landscaping the way down to look

like a Wal-Mart parking lot. Heavily armed

 

cows provide more than adequate

security and are perfectly willing to assist

 

the rerouting of unauthorized violations

of intense word configurations back into first

 

knee jerk disposition toward what they know

they like, a kind of ungulate cud insistence

 

on eliminating eruptions of razzed out

lexical deformations known to be inimical

 

to image formations bearing assurances

the war on everything bad starts here

 

 

Canto 22—Hanging Saddam

 

The marriage of justice and payback in popular

determinations of repeated rolling heads

 

garners huge ratings and deep satisfactions

regarding successful prosecution of vague

 

wars guaranteed to achieve protected

shopping environments except occasionally

 

in Salt Lake City. Random acts of terror

can be differentiated from large groups

 

of cows on their way home by the way

the dangle proceeds and whether or not the head

 

detaches due to gravity’s weakened

but never the less sufficient force

 

as it traverses adjacent multiverses[43]

inundating local key lime cheesecake

 

with just enough juice to keep it

steady. This is not a case of Billie’s

 

strange fruit since that lacks entrepreneurial

deregulated bonding formations

 

in defense of unum  regulations and pale

not as it marks off barbarous incursions

 

from imperial century projects but as a sign

of a dream of undiluted Lawrence Welk

 

variations permeating the aether and leaking

from star to star. Similarities, however,

 

include pendulous consequences[44]

beyond undulating afterthoughts

 

as they burst into the street in flows

of incommensurable righteousness claims

 

while visions of Viva el Muerte,[45] a dark

dude last seen haunting the site

 

of poetry’s bloody demise, trip delicately

around hilltop oracular expulsions.[46]

 

 

Canto 23—Inordinate concupiscence

 

The number of times per week varies

according to availability of post-quantum

indwelling chronos circulations.[47] Half

 

past one struggles for release into deciduous

adumbrations of unspeakable proclivities

toward temporal profusion’s post-meridian

 

quickies. But it don’t mean a thing if

machinic synchronization brings

agreement to sway majestically

 

detached from whim’s vulgar propensity

to breed in dark corners.[48] There’s no

accounting for the taste of seminal

 

extrusions as they emit morphogenetic

vibratory seduction waves, promising

non-obligatory nooners as a pardaisal

 

option to papal visions of pre-Cartesian

hunk-dory. Fleeing numbers note

breached boundaries have increased

 

desperate retrenchments of ordinal

derazzification rendering laminar

equilibration thick and chunky to eyes

 

hungry for scalar ascension’s salacious

hankering after tidy outcomes

of a profitable nature.[49] Skulking

 

past interminable clarities of duplicitous

insertions leaves untold anxious

diversions counting on willful blindness

 

as an oracular correspondence to belted

purities of singular affirmations. Countless

damp, hot provocations to the contrary

 

indicate stiffening approaches to numinous

openings of a delicate nature may succeed

in asyntactical violations[50] celestial lockdown

 

counts among hardest cases of wild

intimations’ assault on self-contained

instances non-reflective happily-ever-afters.

 

Canto 24—Wobbling Columbian recession

 

The agony of an untoward estimation

seems overwrought in the light of further

 

defenestration undertakings. The Columbians

have receded and this fact establishes

 

beyond itself suggestions of secession’s

pellicular threat emissions as means

 

of instant mass emulsification into renditions

of hallelujah chorus rewritten in colour

 

coded assurances everything will soon be under

the gun will continue abated by regular

 

announcements to the contrary. Deciduous

alarms signaling all clear conundrums

 

leave bend-and-kiss protocols to fend for

certain trains of thought[51] while maintaining

 

awkward postures grievous defense against

darker, hirsute bearers of unwelcome

 

signifiers from shady pasts and parts unknown

to the Project Managers. Aberrant frequency

 

variations then invade the viral stabilizer and all hell

breaks into antiphonal choruses[52] till wobbling

 

differentials collapse returning monophonic

rectitude to threatened proliferations of unregulated

 

captivation. The damage having been

introduced to its own devices recalls

 

poultry paeans and hoot eruptions from dim

recesses of razamatootie continues to buzz

 

under the radar of archonic inhibitory

advisories[53]. But broad strokes leave them

 

reconfigured in extreme extenuations resembling

uninvited guests lined up to cart off the gardening

 

and dishwashing work while leaving

the Vanishing Point hog tied and sodomized.[54]

 

 

Book 5: Insanitary Backyard Abstractions

 

 

Canto 25—With liberty and justice for all

 

The descent’s gradual revelation occurs

not in topographical inclinations

 

leading predictably to pits and scatological

revelry rendered in armed image

 

excursions through typically pornophobic

relish.[55] Verbal litter marks the way

 

crumpled words sticky with a sheen

of distantly remembered gravy long

 

gone to sedimentary encrustations

and the rise of discursive zombie apparati

 

resembling Mel Gibson three sheets

to the wind and holding righteously

 

forth on theological subtleties of liberty’s

glorious guarantee of sugar tit floozy

 

regulatory temptation opportunities.[56]

Who winds up there anticipates

 

heavily armoured engineering assaults

on pools of words drained and reclaimed

 

for development by veritas platforms

and unum foundations seeking coherence

 

amid the spent and steaming lexical heaps

deposited consequent to arguing declarations

 

of bovine independence and constitutional

demands for tax relief. It does get

 

darker,[57] though no rational cow

would ever confuse that with objective

 

correlatives or metaphorical confusions

of vehicular ontology. Home, after all,

 

is where the heart is served up stewed with local

root veggies according to neo-traditional

 

recipes approved by health officials and listed

as nutritious and safe for mass consumption.[58]


 

 

Canto 26—Freedom fries

 

The grease no doubt remains the same, thick

with the stench of saturated rhetoric

and two or three centuries worth of armed

eliminations dressed up in a two

thousand dollar suit and looking good

enough to instigate endless debates

in which both sides agree to implement

binding parades of nullities on all parties

preceding universal declarations of victory.[59]

 

Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness show up

disguised as Larry, Curly, and Moe doing

passable imitations of Dubya, Dick and Condi

dolled up as the four horsemen of the apocalypse

minus one. Subsequent developments

lead to lewd brouhahas in which scarlet

pimps[60] demand legislative transmogrifications

of spit swapping into liberty kisses and a certain

sexually transmitted unspeakableness

 

into the democracy disease.[61] Not to be out

done in Gallic exclusionary purification

extractions, large parties of spontaneously

armed men with beards and baseball caps

reluctantly leave big sky country aiming

to pull down that freedom whore[62]

eastern bastards have set up in New York

harbour like some giant hollow horse

and send the bitch back where she

 

came from, or better yet load her up

in a B-52 and drop her on the camel

jockeys. In quick succession beans, bread,

cuffs, salad dressing, horns, and toast

are rounded up in a dragnet and marched

blindfolded into the U.S. Congress

where they are piled on top of each other

in a pyramidal lexicon of Gaulish

 

derived linguistic sleeper cell intent

stripped naked and subjected to various

cavity searches while the pursuit of happiness

looks on in august and judicious disinterest

till Moe pops him up side the head and War

ever the joker, instigates a vast and proliferating

entanglement emanating beyond bulging

crotch solutions’ leave the whole apparatus

dangling limply while freedom fries.

 

 

Canto 27—Democratic vistas

 

Somewhere near the bottom in spite

of de Crevecoeur’s mediated farmer’s

spotless Sunday buckboard theological

declarations of dissipated castle formations,

polyunsaturated fats render whatever

Ellingtonian dreams arose from street’s

impeccable beat[63] into harbingers of clogged

but inexpensive cornucopia delusions

mounted on truck frames and guaranteed

to wipe out anything gets in their way.[64]

 

Hell’s hand basket is paved with bovine

intentions aligned in egalitarian lattice

structures.[65] The way home then looks

both ways before crossing but often

misses erratic diversions and random

violations of anticipatory conclusion

jumping which bears down on pedestrian

declarations and constitutional delusions

with all the fury of unleashed

intimations of recalcitrant elitist laughter.

 

Finding your way through all that tenacious

closure and endless resolution

while attending to perennial Clanton’s

lurking in the bush or outside

the window[66] declaiming virtues

of unrestricted access while looking down

barrels aimed at your back in the name

of equality’s guaranteed dream of hand

in hand down primrose lane toward shining

 

futures often leaves you at a loss

for alternatives to wild-eyed declarations

of infernal eruptions. Meanwhile some enfant

sauvage dances in the gutter grinning

sadly and pointing a blue stained finger

at a large concatenation of cows fending

off errant instabilities and tootie outbursts

with rousing choruses of home on the range

while resolutely insisting further operations’

elimination functions are good to go.

 

 

Canto 28—The Right to Closure

 

When it entered the list of human

rights, Razz was tempted to revert

to atavistic behaviours, having been bathed

 

in caustic imperatives and the prose

of Gilbert Sorrentino, no quarter

given as they said at the Alamo,

 

and none accepted, it seemed strange

given all the dead, the incommensurable

pain of those with indelible memories

 

of small dark rooms and strategically

applied currents, and the sheer magnitude

of unrestrained violence unleashed to return

 

discipline and neatness to world tottering

on the frightening verge of unstable

circulations of chaotic generosity and rogue

 

waves of selfless caring that closure

could seem anything other than a brutal

illusion of determined deflections designed

 

to nurture ongoing hallucinations

of apocalyptic heaven fixes and intimations

of immortality’s unlikely con. The Sense

 

of an Ending stands up and cheers

for the home team as they straggle

by in ungulate bliss, udders adrift

 

in milky intimations of barnyard

manipular relief mechanisms and oneric

pancake formations, mistaking serial

 

hoof reflexes for ontological trajectories

and yet another declaration of victory

snatched from defeat’s recurrent, puzzling

 

eruption into lingering dreams of Israelite

protection racket insinuations of recycled

glory and rivers of unrighteous blood

 

spilled in name of paternal formations’

insistent demand for final elimination

of resistant unresolved sub-dominant chords.

 


 

Canto 29—The defining conflict of our time

 

Chronologic assumptions of possessive

facticity punctuate conflicts laying claim

to insurmountable stabilities of in the first

place as a vegetative contraction known

 

to take a figurative chain saw to actual

axis mundi leaving oozing amputated

stump to hobble to court on time

to lay charges. The charges accumulate

 

rapidly reordering bipolar extenuations

into a sudden oracular point carves

out narrowing path into the mouth

of an hospitable interpretation function.

 

The way out limps, staggers, stutters

singing past that, relocating the point

in choral arrangements leave it

sprouting up all over the place in stumped

 

interrogatives. What defines the conflict

then insists that our time is not the place

we think it as while the conflict itself

contests any further implications rendering

 

infernal assessments of current events

beyond nightly reportage into desperate

terminations. No recognizable

adumbrations ameliorate predictable

 

protests limiting definitions to pellicular

amputations. Meanwhile Tootie

stirs the dark toward prepositional

ascensions designed to increase blood

 

flow engorging the night, hoping

some further interstitial encounter

might alter oracular confirmations

 

of faulty definitions. But Our Time getting

hincky insists it has never been complicit

in unregulated penetrations of damp

quiddities and quickly slams the door shut.

 

 

Canto 30—Oracular confirmations

 

Sudden scheduled eruptions of veritas

confirmations emerge regularly in exchange

of orange blossom’s smudge pot deal.

 

Wild affirmations have been known to contradict

it against the better judgment of sundry

Managers, but no amount of equivocation

 

leads irresistibly to unforeseen crises

of intense foundational acquiescence. When

the bottom falls out, finding another

 

requirement for eruptive origins resists

quotidian serial aversions that might lead

otherwise past its conflicts into assertions

 

of unlikely lubricitous couplings’

smoke hole implications and unexpected

temporal variances leading beyond

 

into arrangements recognizable

for their partiality to provisional

insertions. Oral interaction lays

 

claim to escaping jail shame

erects in the wake of cows on their way

home but unconfirmed reports of alien

 

exigencies billowing in the draft

of excess expectations to the contrary

tend to evaporate in the absence

 

of textual materialization lost in typically

sulfurous thermal emissions of oracular

flatus associated with homeland

 

security. The Vanishing Point then enters

accompanied by fanfare and incense

blessing those gathered to celebrate

 

the immaculate knowledge of nothing

further all the while issuing

assurances regarding the integrity

 

of the levees as outlined in various reports

to the Project Managers who eagerly

declare victory before turning out the lights.

 

 

Book 6: Ascendant Rhetorical Simplifications

 

Canto 31— The cows almost come home

 

Funny how the cows got in[67] and wouldn’t

stop whatever insistent blundering

coagulated  ungulate ganglia  might seem

to propose in non-resistant telic dreams

 

Like everything else, it boggles various

unsettled accumulations of dear or

familiar trauma encrusted with

sedimentary  determinations of self

 

congratulatory art tumescence.[68] Hardness

is a sign of home just as cows

can be counted on to mount

further endeavours in interest calculated

 

in compounded goal lines. It confounds

the ordinary, leaving it bleeding

in some filthy alley where cows usually

can’t be bothered to slow down

 

having once again caught scent of accumulated

posterior emissions marking home’s

dedicated inclination toward familiar

and dear formations of hollow horses

 

aligned in neo-Aquinian salvation

promissory instigations[69] to embrace

non-promiscuous relational faith

certainties in face of unpredictable

 

pulsations arising somewhere on

the other hand and rolling ashore

in lugubrious intimations of unnamable

stellar contractions seminal infestation

 

of dark matter’s mysterious wave

function[70] giving rise to yet another

long shriek of alien enthusiasm denoting

further incursions of oh yeah and obscene

 

variations of modal instabilities’ repeated

insensitivities to demands for textual

intensities designed to close the barn door

with feeling and minimal discursive digressions.

 


 

Canto 32— Homeland Security

 

What they lock you up for doesn’t know

how it’s done, that casual agreement

along lines of least insistent intimation’s

paradaisal wresting away of some

hammered thing into arrangements

of large wooden horses bereft of modal

variance’s and finitude’s wet lips.

 

Then there’s the lingering question of clasm’s

derivation among emergent properties

and territorial claims surreptitiously indicated

in control driven anti-razzification

procedures designed to turn icons into elected

levee formations cows can comfortably

graze behind when the going gets tough

 

and the tough get refocused on pellicular

variations of shading as a matter not

so much of intelligence as necro-modal

cartological certainty formations

all dolled up in sleeper-cell intimations

of alien intent to blow up fields

of dreams, convert the converted and remove

 

all Christmas trees from department

stores and malls thus leaving shopping

utterly bereft of divine consequences

and legally binding hope claims.  Blanket

declarations assuring colour coded

determinations of unsurpassable peace

estimations echo in vast well-lit

 

homilies to reasoned harmonies and dancing

images pre-approved for  distribution

in democratically determined election

booth’s reorganization of titular reigning

nominal claim to spatial stacking along lines

of least resistant expression quoeficient.

Ensuing states of security appear in white

 

robes intoning four-part harmonic paens

to last year’s garden as it rises in oneric

mists claiming singular status as non-reflective

image while jumping the queque everyone

thought indicated orderly evacuation procedures

before bend-and-kiss protocols kick in.[71]

 

Canto 33— Building a hopeful world

 

Well, there is a certain poignant almost

wistful where wist spreads out like fog

at Gilmore California and the cows

almost home give a huge sigh of relief

tone to it though the question of hope

tends to smell after a few days in the sun,

especially where thinning ozone,

greenhouse instigations, and bluster

exhalations contribute to gaseous

buildups known to be harmful to jelly roll

intimations and hopeless wiggle impulsions

 

Any further implications are persona

non grata among clusters of hopeful

converts issuing proclamations of individual

emancipatory reason gushes and declarations

of independently established pursuits

of universal right to closure as it

bypasses Odyssean stations in a fog

of bovine emissions blur the signage

warning of abandonment amid wild

tracks of formerly haunted approaches

 

to unsecured time. Flattened and smoothed

in mills of constant interpretation

bordering on hostile states of exception

hope emerges large and sweet, quietly

queued up, inked finger raised in gesture

no doubt solicited by invisible agents

to assure querulous cows the way home

remains straight and broad. Increased

operations to again eliminate once

and for all already eliminated pockets

of resistance hope so too. In that sense hope

 

is not a time and places are not nothing

to shake a stick at especially if they

are hopeless or at least determined

in their destabilized disinhibatory

vibration polarities to wander outside

the bounds of same laminar aether

coordinates how to do it in unified theory

applications field errant razz eruptions

and sudden unprogrammed tootie displays

into images of singularly bright

and toothsome estimations of imminent victory

 

Canto 34— Pollution of distances

 

One-eyed sheepherders are often less likely

to draw to an inside arrangement

of heroic anticipatory lexical formations

given the encompassing arenas of distance

claiming stakes marked out in monstrous

perspectives narrowing escape routes’

branching deliria into constricted exits

 

Constricted exits indicate conclusive

apparati arrangements have been instilled

and the way out rendered a pollution of distant

hopes being sorted and stacked into walled

enclosures seen to waver in particulate

atmospheres. The waver may be a sign

indicating conditional release or the edge

 

of a veritas field claiming certain unwobbling

pivotal stakes as therapeutic in the light

of same old dwindling polis solution

enclosed and terminated by the Lords

of  Progress and corporate sheep farmers.

The body of ungulate animus toward

all things deviating from narrowing points

 

of arrival indicates foreclosure

of dual momentum into non-negotiable

spatial slabs. Wonder evacuates

the premises pursued by howls of laughter

emanating in conical sections from across

the hall. But all attempts to render

possible extensions of distant adumbrations’

 

confrontational clarities are disputed

by lyrical wave functions locking

down locutional proliferations

into arrangements suitable for the CBC

or various display case publication

constructions designed to provide

comfort and reassurance to wavering

 

senses of formerly untroubled claims

on singular integrated modes of spatial

possession. The distances go underground

maliciously constituting non-retrogradable

nations of nothing but pluribus variances,

dilating the dark toward terrific exigencies

of contingent cloaca evacuations.

 

Canto 35—The natural sequence of ideas

 

The untimely issue of expelled interpretations

rises skyward. No unseemly or patched

interrogations escape. The approaching margin

may be cause for alarm. Circuitous

passages to the contrary probably indicate

sudden ideas. In the event this fails

stay calm and assign optional trajectories.

 

Beginning again belongs outside

former sequences’ constellation of hilarity.

In the unlikely case excessive laughter

leads to sequential insertions of bizarre

objects, inextendible paths backwards

have been known to harbour judges

who may find plaintive lyrics in order.

 

What follows beyond the pale of extreme

judicial contractions once again reaffirms

the truth of fiction as it exposes unlikely

prolix diversions into imaginary gardens

where adjectives are largely suppressed. No

further deviations are visible in circumcised

oracular eye jobs. They just come up against

 

serial darkenss’s irregular howling and seek

asylum in periodic sentences. Grammatically

the outcome cannot be contained

in subordinate clauses’ polar implications

given foreclosure of acknowledgement

every sharp is already always a flat. Beginning

on a different note is frowned upon

 

by Trotskyite poets from the hills eschewing

badges in places whose time may have come

upon inexplicable but strangely concupiscent

breaches. They gape asunder but nothing

further ranges beyond treasured mother

lode as they drift through dreams

of perfectible dawns. Inordinate

 

predictions of unnatural pairings

rattle future accounts bearing

interested parties aloft and threatening

singular assertions of nature’s all

too facile sequential fantasies

with methodical disintegration

and arbitrary sodomite lexical positions.

 

Canto 36—The Invisible Hand of the Market

 

Slipped calibrations of ontological severity

stripped of all zing and duded up to resemble

 

baroque filigreed manipular immensity

determinations that turned tootie into a pale

 

version of former dimensional inversion

ruptures often led to happy assertions

 

of limit’s giddy ascension on time’s

calculated wing claiming connection

 

to some long ago art project. The moving

finger writ and having bit off more

 

than a few filial implications boldly

signifies mandated determinations

 

of selected freedom functions and

inscriptions along the lines of Adamo

 

me fecit as an antidote to terror

of compassion compulsions and eventual

 

loss of digital dexterity beyond framed

bonum impositions gussied up

 

in white robes and carrying fully loaded

harps. Corporate dematerialization

 

reaches out straining after some new Adam

Smith to anoint with infinite bounty

 

reserved for Elect investment bankers

and inside traders by majestic beclouded

 

instance’s archonic transformation

of unpolluted distances characteristic

 

non-specific points of departure into fixed

exchanges of near and far offered at discounted

 

fares along with cancellation insurance’s

guaranteed promise of risk-free descent

 

into palm-lined boulevards unobstructed

access to endless fetching points of purchase.

 

 

Book 7: De Binares Natura

 

Canto 37—Waiting for the train

 

It leaps out like that across the gap’s

yawning electrified annunciation

 

of the two of them stretching the eye

toward some distant Renaissance trick

 

continues to lower expectations even as it

swings the works into vibratory state

 

generating derazzified formulae

of instant constitution corralled

 

into flight from three’s licentious

seductive promise of damp paradaisal

 

intimations undoes end of the line’s

distant contract with tomorrow.[72]

 

The cows cross it at their own risk

declaring autonomous intentions

 

at designated level crossings

accompanied homeward bound

 

by many friends and relatives

hell bent on wreaking flagrant

 

misnomers on passing indications

of restless or unstable salutations

 

beyond the normal kind.[73] The normal

kind are not abnormal, not

 

different than the cows when they’re

friendly, and they smell better, too.

 

But mostly it’s the knowledge

of doing good, real good, the kind

 

that carries a big weapon to deal

righteously with lascivious mediations

 

and other aberrations of invariable

distance’s arrangement of the furniture[74]

 

into decent formations suitable

for god-fearing cows on their way home.

 

Canto 38—Electrified annunciation

 

Getting our feet down on the ground

slapping mud was no mean trick, vanishing

 

or not. Certain aerial outlooks may result

in vertiginous intermezzos but

 

there’s something to be said for tree top

dreams of unlikely impervious placations

 

as long as discounted porne haunts

don’t rise up wraith like and wrathful

 

leaving you dangling by sacrificial

implications.[75] Then tracks may indicate

 

animal presences bolstered by bad acts

and judicious divisions. But brought

 

to earth leaves heaven dangling by a proverb

hooked up to indicate acceptable points

 

of contact[76] maintain distances approved

as grounded in properly established codes

 

of wired practices bent on eliminating

threats tubal detritus bequeaths in walled

 

recollections of yesteryear’s potentially

saleable grace droppings.[77] Still, toe to toe

 

does exceed singular translations reductio

by several magnitudes of stellar residue

 

and though no refereed outcome remains

tantalizingly beyond any permitted charge

 

to the contrary, better living through indecent

and unregulated polar remissions still holds out

 

some promise of connectivity beyond electrified

annunciation warnings to remain on designated

 

platforms while massive engines of anticipated

and already determined lines of eager

 

acceleration ride down rails all dolled up

as great steaming hulks of terminal thought.[78]

 

Canto 39—Distant vanishing tricks

 

Those retrogradable institutions of higher

speculation stretching toward bifocal

 

limit’s electrified annunciation of spatial

argument’s endless quibbling leave

 

no room for Buzz Corey to maneuver

making for dehydrated trajectories

 

and fixed polar orientations ossified gyroscopic

fundament.[79] Razz, having made way

 

through compulsory negative obligatory

enclosure functions and reached escape

 

velocity releases life lines[80] in the shape

of asyntactical assemblages of random

 

vocables dashing wildly through shadows

seeking succor from their dark, sweet

 

teats. The Vanishing Point in pursuit

issues proclamations to the contrary rendering

 

all possible avenues of egress into

culminations of well-lit purification

 

techniques. Antithetical authorizations

attempt to gather disclosed spatial

 

terminations into nets capable of corralling Buzz[81]

as he enters here through a worm hole

 

from a  previous poem actually written

after this. Distance shudders and time

 

emits weak desperate declarations

of correspondence hoping filial adumbrations

 

can withstand hard knocks and gleeful

disrespect emanating counter clock

 

wise from undeclared extensions

of non-parallel hoochy koochy matrix

 

functions known to shred carefully decorated

elaborations of never the twain etcetera.[82]

 

 

Canto 40— Aberrations of invariable distance

 

As a state of mind founded somewhere

near the southern border where fabled

 

Razza’ma rose from the marshes, its

curved walls bending space to the grace

 

of their jubilation and governed by errant

insertions of unexpected derationalizing relish

 

it hovers near an horizon bonds earth

to sky in aberrant variation’s formerly

 

mashed extrusions of inadequate

consideration.[83] Considering possible tracks’

 

indeterminate assimilations of hazy

conclusions only leads to further

 

perfunctory estimations of Vanishing

Point’s insatiable appetite for terminal

 

buildings tastefully located in orderly

extensions of democracy. The hordes

 

who are gathered and placed in postures

signifiying gratitude, right hand raised

 

pointer extended into cerulean

intimations of paradaisal choices beyond

 

the next town fall into hushed tones

of ahhh generally reserved for victorious

 

groups of cows as they cross the Finshing

Line, patting its butt in unrepressed

 

testament to glutteal admiration.

The Finishing Line, also know as Phil,[84]

 

indicates its pleasure by quickly banning

proliferating aberrations on grounds

 

infiltration undermined with impermissible

variations of gradation’s distance

 

from invariably held belief in no further filiations

upholds truth’s firm manipular emissions.

 

 

Canto 41—End of the line

 

Is it the thought of no final exit

other than that looming inevitable dark

 

kiss that separates the rails into vanishing

trick instigates formations of human

 

declaratory spatial impositions limiting

chiaroscuro eruptions to decidedly

 

predictable patterns of singular solar

contract mechanisms, binding Razz

 

and Tootie back to back?[85] On the one hand

is the end of a line. On the other insists

 

variations are merely fluctuating instances

of magnetic proton alignment’s temporary

 

loss of precious bodily fluids. Getting

there abrogates undetermined meetings

 

to small dark spaces pop up from time

to time trailing clouds of atemporal

 

flotsam in the shape of triangular

vibrating intrusions leading to further

 

irregular assignation’s surplus

itineraries and sloppy exclamations

 

of mutual arrival. In and out is no

mere aleatory interruptus, but a genuine

 

assertion of possible combinatory

copulas propensity to pile on propitious

 

piquancy[86] in the face of cows on their way

toward some distant vanishing trick’s

 

nostalgic incursion. The path to madness

step by step exfoliates through logic’s

 

certain adumbrations into endless aisles

of toiletries arranged to excite blood

 

flows into impossible architectures

of separation hung out on lines to dry.

 

Canto 42— Lascivious mediations

 

Intervention inhales frequently though always

between sheets of immaculate

irregularities’ untoward estimations

 

of involuntary signification contractions.[87]

If it feels good does the proposition lose

angular incidence and authentic bovine

 

directional modus? The void skulking

just around the last corner shifts

in shadows rattling the dented lid

 

of a garbage can suddenly spooking

a black cat darts over the ragged fence

in moonlight.[88] Now the stage is set

 

for razzle dazzle lexical assignations

behind pebbled-glass paned door

opens into chiaroscuro foliations.[89] Tootie

 

snaps down the brim of her hat anticipating

pencil thin destiny’s sap to the back

of some unlikely train of thought only

 

to find Razz, sleek, firm nylon

smooth gams crossed, smoke gently

rising past veiled suggestions of cheap

 

hotel room’s flickering neon

paradise. Outraged on the other

hand squeals to the Vanishing

 

Point about lowdown lascivious

mediations in the local flop house quickly

mobilizing intentional acts of self

 

validating authenticity to batter down

the door to the last century releasing

various mounted formations to mow down

 

the nick of time in the interest of self

preservation and general control

of potentially intoxicating agents

 

of provocative non sequiturs hell bent

on breeding lilacs out of whatever vociferant

dung heap vocabulary tickles their dirty roots.[90] 

 

 

 

Book 8: Pancakes

 

He shakes my ashes

greases my griddle,

churns my butter,

strokes my fiddle,

my man is

such a handy man.

 

      —Ethel Waters

 

Canto 43—AJ discourses on the cosmic egg

 

Ain’t no two ways about it whatever

their directions dictate and inextendible

paths backward don’t count for beans

 

in Orphic misprisions through

proliferating strings of song and

dancing stones unlikely ascent into exact

 

unique forms of wiggle logic[91] recalled

from illimitable depths of egg’s

imperishable groove. Turn around

 

and face the music while you still

got the legs leaves otherwise relegated

to mere business of exaggerated

 

restrictions known to elevate

likely codas beyond means music itself

exists within[92] and rendered pale

 

by excited enjambments’ daring

return trips deep into stories

determined descending flapjack

 

increments escape from yoked imperatives

upward gaze toward perfectly

balanced satisfactions while emergent

 

hog calling intimations stumble beyond

egghead abstractions into scrambled

oeuvre’s unanticipated concilia

 

imperative.[93] Bound ingredients

from coagulating head over heels

obbligato busting out wail

 

rising high and fine from atop walls

of fabled Razza’ma tumble into broken

paeans to delta openings[94] cloven

 

hot stacks and waiting secrets of a dark

sweet oracle leading up and out

to sit amid stacks of sticky glories.

 

 

Canto 44—AJ discourses on the milk of kindness

 

Sometimes you’d think the dancing

stones had up and relocated themselves

to various infernal cavities inhabiting

proprioceptive determinations’ heart

variations.[95] Then they up and start

 

howling living intimations

of unanticipated organic bubble seeds

laying awake through all that space

bearing messages of further

implicate pulse sometimes even sets your

 

feet to tapping.[96] The cow’s involvement

is timely but transitory, two deflections

of razzamatootie into determined telic

saturations’ single minded pursuit

of soft posteriors presenting ineffable

 

suggestive images of Tootie promise

tied up in plodding inertial satieties

one hoof after another. Udder folly[97]

can wreak havoc on all manner

of domus determined inversions even

 

when they’re dished up cold with ketchup

and the stones’ further possibilities implode

in the face of impenetrable expectations’

non-designated resolutions.[98] When it goes

south all manner of stuff curdles at the top

 

opening eternal instant’s inhabitable

modus variations to prescriptions

of best before cylindrical determinants

non-negotiable discard demands. A waste

of time[99] if you ask me, hon, generated

 

by knee jerk disposable declensions

too distant from hand to mouth

or even basic end of the week

box roust to know the difference

a day makes is often little more than

 

slight swelling among lactational apparati

render mouth watering, lip puckering

milk and honey visions no handy man ever

mistook for anything other than intimations

of rising frenzy’s come hither tremendum.[100]

 

Canto 45—AJ discourses on wheat and chaff

 

What’s blowing in the wind has

altered considerably since ringing

air rallied instance’s broken promises

 

to protestant variations of ordinary

transformations and foot tapping

razz impulsion to catch a gust

 

rise up and wiggle your heart out.[101]

Mitigating cross breezes whip the air

into more engaging articulations

 

of discriminating tendency’s inevitable

breath of fresh expectation beyond

strong expressions of lyric intensity’s

 

prize laden recipe for stable formations

of contented cows.[102] Pancakes is

as pancakes does registers recalcitrant

 

economies of rising hilarity’s electrical

neuro-logos spasm directives leave

the VP looking for some corner to hang

 

it’s hat and set up shop turning out

obsolescent imprecations against non-standard

spatial variances known to open peculiar

 

conversations between lines of bound

projections.[103] The rules ain’t the game,

hon, and the spaces between will always

 

trump the likely separation railing

against slippery slopes sure fire

pollution of distances’ claim to

 

undifferentiated demeanors of decorous

discontent’s[104] cover story into full bore

hoochy koochy equivocations. Equity

 

in this unexpected vocation generates

division driven gusts having no

relation to known instances of infernal

 

affairs as outlined in manuals to the contrary

but affiliates idylls of separation into recipes

for unforeseen husk evacuations.

 

Canto 46—AJ discourses on katastematic pleasures

 

Ten dollar words won’t get you far

in this neck of inscrutable intimations

but wine dark deposits of unstable

 

satisfactions can go a long way

toward instigating post-tootie

exuberance mediations and extensions

 

of three beyond decent folks’ negative

declarations and porne renunciations

all dolled up as illusions of glory

 

incursions from sad-assed backyards

of last season’s prize winning garden

gone to hell in a market-basket.[105] Give me

 

that old time teeter-totter in your face

ecstasis and I’ll give you one damn fine

party, hon, when all that even keel

 

business is starting to look around

for a way out of Epicurean Chinese

handcuffs looking to lock up

 

the old twiddle factor and keep the flow

slow, Joe, it’s a damn shame and that old

morning after throb somewhere near

 

cerebellum’s link up to higher as the say

points of currently malfunctioning

clarification apparati painful as it

 

continues to be is no reason to avoid

uncontrolled burgeoning ecstasis novas

fueled by whatever poison fires up

 

the old engine.[106] Getting down

to business don’t add up to much more

than interstitial signal contaminants

 

hijacked by alien meaning pirates

hell bent on turning flap jacks’ consensual

conversion factor into contractual

 

assertability conditions leave between

high and dry, bereft of lubricitous

deviations’ slip-slide long stack spasm.

 

Canto 47—AJ takes a break

 

It’s a known fact all them big words

will give you a swoon just swirling

around like some bad ass mixer

 

cut loose and run amok in Tootie’s unsecured

word horde, whipping up concatenations

of juicy syllabic unliklihood and spraying

 

them across the wall in mene mene tekel

apparitions of insect reason yearning

after Lucretian eruptions of multiphonic

 

aural infestation.[107] Roll over and light a smoke

reeks of irreducible residue’s appeal to moment’s

sweet profanity.[108] And no museum can hold

 

its impromptu rush through memory’s tidal

push and pull, that wet grind, or bind

its suddenly recovered use to a spectacle

 

of committee approved displays guaranteed

to please the countless tourists having flown

in for the weekend to gaze longingly

 

at large groups of cows dressed

in native costumes and lifting their hooves

in good old down home bovine hoedown

 

expressions of felicitous antelope infestations

and encouraging exclamations regarding

lower prices. A huge sigh of relief

 

has been known to frequent disreputable

disputations on the occasions of sudden

interruptions recalling violet skies

 

through windows streaked beyond

acceptable limits of accumulated

swing leaves the whole joint

 

approaching the speed of slightly

miscued diversions.[109] Shattering

land records spill across broken

 

sound and recurring split infinities

rendering gaps in the work day

incompatible with uncontested thoughts

 

of tonic resolution’s leisurely after

math and complete sentences leading

the garden path into indefinite

 

distance’s predatory consecration[110] amid

instances implying sudden relief

from barren insistence on wholesome nuances.

 

Canto 48—AJ discourses on syrup

 

Corn’s got its uses but never for a minute

cofuse it with that boiled down tree blood

that’s not just sweet but fit to drizzle

 

over any hot little lexical consensus

rises up steaming though not averse

to instance’s frequent recourse to release

 

mechanisms known to leave various

cascading words in states of sticky

residue as a sign of Tootie’s shameless

 

and insatiable quest to evade specific

claim to exhausted exigencies nominal

cramping. Swallows would like to dart

 

through it again[111] but at this precarious

point finds its parameters restricted

to ingestional contractions following

 

lip smacking. Smacking your lips around that

may result in accidents without substance

proliferating beyond evaporating images

 

put into play precisely in the impossibility

of this having been written.[112] No radio

ever had it so revocably clear as that sticky

 

outcome’s amber imbrication makes

evident to the pure of heart leaving

by the back door after having snatched

 

hoochy koochy equivocation’s from jaws

of victory’s inevitable ritual celebration

dressed to the nines but having exchanged

 

Miss Emily’s lowly interrogation[113] for self

satisfied ascensions along prescribed

lists of national reading. That is no way

 

to treat a long hot stack just begging

for it. Abandoned terminals leave no

possible arrival other than climactic

 

contractions fading into difficult extractions

and diverted hopes for constitutional

invention’s yet to be determined issue.

 


 


[1]  “Oh, Lord, I wanna eat that chicken, eat that chicken, eat that chicken pie . . ..” Charles Mingus, Oh Yeah!

[2]  “My lady is desired in highest Heaven,” Dante, Vita Nuova, XIX.

[3]  Lucretius, De Rerum Natura, 2: 216-220.

[4]  H.D., Helen in Egypt.

[5]  “[W]e need to accept responsibility for America's unique role in preserving and extending an international order friendly to our security, our prosperity, and our principles.” “Statement of Principles,” Project for a New American Century.

[6]  “Wednesday Night Prayer Meeting,” Charles Mingus, Roots & Blues.

[7]  Ah, love, let us be true / To one another!” Matthew Arnold, “Dover Beach.” See also “Dover Beach,” Jack Spicer, Lament for the Makers: “. . . No / Babylonian poets employ charms / Each other’s arms are not enough either when the sea shifts and changes / The flight of seagulls here. The pebbles there. Chickens of some hen.” This may also shed light on fn 10 below.

[8] “Before even beginning, there is, to my knowledge, no mirror.” Victor Coleman, “A, The Shepherd whose Voice Never Returns,” MAL ARME, Letter Drop 3.

[9] “I used to visit all the very gay places / Those come what may places / Where one relaxes on the axis of the wheel of life,” Billy Strayhorn, “Lush Life.”

[10]  “To some if you owned your own mind you were indeed sick but when you possessed an Atonist mind you were healthy. A mind which sought to interpret the world by using a single loa. Somewhat like filling a milk bottle with an ocean.” Ishmael Reed, Mumbo Jumbo

[11]  Batchelor, G. K., (1967), An Introduction to Fluid Dynamics, Cambridge UP (reprinted 2000).

[12]  “What central pulse—and you the heart,” Walt Whitman, Leaves of Grass. For a somewhat different perspective, see Jack Spicer’s  Language, “Thing Language 1.” See also fn 11 above.

[13] “The tidal swell / Particle and wave / Wave and particle / Distances.” Language, “Love Poems 5,” Jack Spicer

[14]  “. . . Pip’s ringed horizon began to expand around him miserably.” Herman Melville, “The Castaway,” Moby-Dick.

[15]  “Under the baldachino, silver’d with heavy stitches / Bianca Visconti, with Sforza / The peasant’s son and the duchess, / to Rimini, and to the wars southward. . .,” Ezra Pound, “Canto VIII,” The Cantos.

[16]  “You don't need a weather man to know which way the wind blows,” Bob Dylan, “Subterranean Homesick Blues,” Bringin’ It All Back Home.

[17] “Sensible representation indicates of itself that its truth is ‘in’ as well as ‘outside’ it,” Jean-Luc  Nancy.

[18]  “My, people come and go so quickly here” Dorothy Gale, The Wizard of Oz.

[19]  “Because true works have done (as I often say) with the official canon,  / leapt into the line as it has always been: fluid / to be those where the division of the line was independent.” Victor Coleman, “G, Independently of a Debate on Form,” MAL ARME, Letter Drop 3.

[20]  “If you wish to make Pythocles rich, do not increase his means, but dimish his desire,” Epicurus. Quoted in Lives of the Philosophers by Diogenes Laertius.

[21] “We thrive by casualities. Our chief experiences have been casual,” Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Expreience.”

[22]  “May thy first holy / wound anoint me for the conjugal / Business upon that member of / my Body, which is for the benefit / of my wife; and the Purple red oil / flow upon my Priest’s Hole, and / make it rightly fitted for the / Procurator’s Business,” Count Nicholas Ludwig von Zinzendorf, “Hymn 2114,” translated from the German by H.D.

[23]  "Freedom's untidy, and free people are free to make mistakes and commit crimes and do bad things. They're also free to live their lives and do wonderful things, and that's what's going to happen here," Donald Rumsfeld.

[24]  “As if, on some other frequency, or out of the eye of some whirlwind rotating to slow for her heated skin even to feel the centrifugal coolness of, words were being spoken.” Thomas Pynchon, The Crying of Lot 49.

[25]  “The arts have been consumed by society in the same way the masses have,” Sylvère Lotringer.

[26]  “Whence does the aether nourish the stars?” Lucretius, De Rerum Natura

[27]  “The normal / kind are not abnormal, not / different than the cows when they’re / friendly . . .,” Canto 37.

[28]  See Space Patrol, episode 129, “The Man Who Stole a City,” June 13, 1953.

[29]  “A flash of pink light blinded me. ‘Oh my god,’ I said.” “VALIS, as living information, would penetrate the world, replicating in human brains, crossbonding with them and assisting them, guiding them, at a subliminal level, which is to say, invisibly.” Philip K. Dick, Valis.

[30]  “. . . I have been anxious to improve the nick of time, and notch it in my stick, too; to stand on the meeting of two eternities . . . to toe that line,” Henry David Thoreau.

[31]  “Just make sure that your umbrella is upside down.” “Pennies from Heaven,” Johnnie Burke and Arthur Johnston.

[32]  Cf, fn 1.

[33]  “Transition equals tradition,” Craig Harris, “Bluocracy,” Political Blues.

[34]  “We may therefore formulate as follows: the ghost of some simple metre should lurk behind the arras in even the ‘freest’ verse; to advance menacingly as we doze, and withdraw as we rouse. Or, freedom is only truly freedom when it appears against the background of an artificial limitation.” T.S. Eliot, “Reflections on ‘Vers Libre’.” See also Canto 1, “Chicken Pie.”

[35]  “The Sibyl of Cumae protected the Roman Republic and gave timely warnings. In the first century C.E. she foresaw the murders of the Kennedy brothers, Dr. King and Bishop Pike. She saw the two common denominators of the four murdered men: first, they stood in defense of the liberties of the Republic; and second, each man was a religious leader. For this they were killed. The Republic had once again become an empire with a ceasar. ‘The Empire never ended.’” Philip K. Dick, Tractates: Cryptica Scriptura, 15.

[36]  “Boredom is part of the Logos, too.” Jack Spicer.

[37]  Cf. Robin Blaser, The Moth Poem.

[38]  “Dear Mike, I have never needed to understand works of art. I don't like or revel in something because I understand it,” Anonymous editor.

[39]  “Why haven’t we got a helicopter, Conrad?’” Barbara Amiel.

[40] “The Atonists got rid of their spirit 1000s of years ago with Him. The flesh is next. Plastic will soon prevail over flesh and bones. Why is it Death you like? Because then no 1 will keep you up all night with that racket dancing and singing.” Ishmael Reed, Mumbo Jumbo.

[41] “ The composition of dark matter is unknown, but may include new elementary particles such as WIMPs, axions, and ordinary and heavy neutrinos, as well as astronomical bodies such as dwarf stars, planets collectively called MACHOs, and clouds of nonluminous gas.” Wikipedia.

[42]  Often identified with mysterious incursions of inviolable truth waves emanating from the pineal gland.

[43] “Lee Smolin has suggested that every black hole is the seed for a new universe that erupts into existence through a big bang-like explosion, but is forever hidden from our view by the black hole’s event horizon.” Brian Greene, The Elegant Universe.

[44] “The sweep of the pendulum had increased in extent by nearly a yard. As a natural consequence its velocity was also much greater. But what mainly disturbed me was the idea that it had perceptibly descended. Edgar Allen Poe, “The Pit and the Pendulum.”

[45] October 12, 1936.

[46] ”So that after much time and many arguments had been spent to bring [Mrs. Hutchinson] to see her sin, but all in vain, the church with one consent cast her out.” John Winthrop, Journals, March 22, 1638.

[47]  “Homeorrhetic means at least that” the rhesis flows, but similarity pushes upstream and resists. All the temporal vectors possessed in a directional arrow are here, in this place, arranged in the shape of a star. What is an organism? A sheaf of times. What is a living system? A bouquet of times.” Michael Serres, “The Origin of Language.”

[48]  “Creative chaos is illegality itself, for its description dissolves the distinction between the macroscopic state and the microscopic fluctuation; correlations can appear among distant events; local deviations echo throughout the system—the matrix state in which the flucuations are amplified and from which things are born.” Ilya Prigogine and Isabel Stengers, “Dynamics from Leibniz to Lucreius.”

[49]  “A penny saved is a penny earned.” Benjamin Franklin, ”Poor Richard’s Almanac.”

[50]  “Dozens of slightly dampened fashionable candle holders made of yellow saffron / Their reflections harsh against this foolproof and indispensable bathroom shelf, / prior to the satisfaction provided by a box of chocolates? . . .” Victor Coleman, Mal Atme, “U—A Sheet of Beaten Gold.”

[51]  “The assurance of thought is inseparable from its restlessness—and its restlessness, as drunkenness, is at once an anxiety and an exhalation, the risk and the transport of relation.” Jean Luc Nancy,  Hegel: the Restlessness of the Negative.

[52]  cf. Carla Bley, Steve Swallow and Andy Shepherd, “Wrong Key Donkey.”

[53]   “One day, Shuzanghu said to his wife, ‘How long must we live without a place to rest our feet?’” Dhammai legend.

[54] “Have you noticed more and more people speaking different languages at the supermarket? Schools? Movies? At your local bank? Have you noticed radio stations and TV crackling with Spanish or other languages in our English speaking America?” Frosty Wooldridge, culture expert.

[55]  “There is a hell, i.e. all those who die in personal mortal sin, as enemies of God, and unworthy of eternal life, will be severely punished by God after death. On the nature of mortal sin, see SIN; on the immediate eginning of punishment after death, see PARTICULAR JUDGMENT. As to the fate of those who die free from personal mortal sin, but in original sin, see LIMBO (limbus parvulorum).” Catholic Encyclodedia.

[56]  “Man is thus metamorphosed into a thing, into many things.” Ralph Waldo Emerson, “The American Scholar.”

[57] “Soit / que / l’Abime / blanchi / étale / furieux / sous une inclinaison / plane désespérément / d’aile / le sienne / par / avance retombée d’un mal à dresser le vol / et couvrant les jaillissements / coupant au ras les bonds / trés à l’intérieur résume / l’ombre enfouie dans le profodeur par cette voile alternative . . ..” Stéphane Mallarmé, Un Coup de Des.

[58]   “If you like you can sit out / in the blue fumes. You can / have a whole oat bran wheat / muffin and an immaculate water.” Gilbert Sorrentino, “Old Palo Alto Classic.”

[59]  “Cold comes creeping in the window / And in the sky searchlights sweep / countryside / O frozen lonliness that will not thaw / Nor let me sleep.” John Wieners , “The Serpent Hiss.”

[60]  “They seek him here, they seek him there, those Frenchies seek him everywhere.” Sir Percy Blakeney.

[61] See Hieronymus Fracastorius (Girolamo Fracastoro), "Syphilis sive morbus gallicus" (1530).

[62] "We will not forget that Liberty has here made her home; nor shall her chosen altar be neglected." Grover Cleveland.

[63] “Pieces of the past arising out of the rubble. Which evokes Eliot / and then evokes Suspicion. Ghosts all of them. Doers of no / good. “ Jack Spicer, “Two Poems for The Nation.”

[64] “They adopt democratic manners. They foam at the mouth. They hate.” Ralph Waldo Emerson, “Experience.”

[65]  “He had a dream and it shot him.” Huckleberry Finn.

[66]  The rifle shots entered the lighted billiard parlor through a glass-windowed locked door which opened from the rear of the parlor onto a dark alley, which ran between Allen and Fremont Streets, along the side of the parlor.

[67] “The cows cross at their own risk / declaring autonomous intentions . . .”. Canto 37

[68]  “. . . the desert would meet us with a steady gale, dust, gray thorn bushes, and hideous bits of tissue paper mimicking pale flowers among the prickles of wind-tortured withered stalks all along the highway; in the middle of which there sometimes stood simple cows, immobilized in a position (tail left, white eyelashes right) cutting across all human rules of traffic.” Vladimir Nabokov, Lolita.

[69]  “Then, too, in everlasting life is the full and perfect satisfying of every desire; for there every blessed soul will have to overflowing what he hoped for and desired.” Thomas Aquinas.

[70]  A wave function is a probability amplitude, that also happens to solve Schrödinger’s equation.

[71]  “Help is on the way.” David Murray, “Political Blues.”

[72]  “It is because the world undergoes itself as a world of separation that its experience takes the form of the “self.” Jean Luc Nancy, Homo Sacer.

[73]  “We’ll let Teisias and Gorgias continue sleeping. Fer they noticed that plausible stories win more public honour than the truth.” Plato, Phaedrus 267a6.

[74]  “For the same letter denotes sky, sea, earth, rivers, sun, the same denote crops, trees, animals.” Lucretius, De Rerum Natura 2: 1015-17.

[75]  “Homo sapiens, then, is neither a clearly defined species nor a substance; it is, rather, a machine or device for producing the recognition of the human.” Giorgio Agamben, The Open.

[76]  “Paleolithic man, however, was long accustomed to living in caves. Hills are not only more secure, they’re nearer to heaven.” God’s Wand.

[77]  “The Word is the sound of the block’s shuttle. The name of the block means ‘creaking of the word.’” Ogatamelli.

[78]  “Has anybody heard from the Institute? / Has anybody seen worn corduroy soft and mellow / In the warm  mountain sun? Has anybody heard?” Gilbert Sorrentino, “The Institute Doesn’t Answer.”

[79]  “That’s one of the tragedies of this life, that the men who are most in need of a beating, are always enormous.” John D, Hackensacker III (Rudy Vallee), “The Palm Beach Story.”

[80]  “The grit | of things, | a measure | resistant . . .”. Robert Creeley, “Song.”

[81]  “The colonizing tendency of Christianity is echoed in the attempts of Galilean, Cartesian, and Newtonian physics to appropriate whole realms formerly consigned to alchemy and ‘natural philosophy’ not to mention local customs and history.” Edward Casey, The Fate of Place.

[82]  "Holy smokin' rockets, commander!" Space Cadet Happy.

[83]  “The bead of light that emerges from our defects and our little abjections is nothing other than redemption.” Giorgio Agamben, “The Assistants.”

[84]  Any resemblance, however remote, to scandalous suggestions of unnatural confluences of philanthropy, philately, and philosophy should be considered purely and solely the result of overindulgence in illegal substances and gross, unregulated lexical irresponsibility.

[85]  ”The curtain is turned back, | old man losing flesh | within the grim crucial percussion, | lying beside a photocopy of winter. | Or is it that I love you, my falcon | while instead you restore me | to my own gainful sovereignty, flesh?” Asa Benveniste, “Short Scene Sonnets xi,” Pommes Poems.

[86]  Occasional, unpredictable eruptions of overdetermined, egregious poetic language  is often due to uncontrollable lapses in the Pathtic Fellatio.

[87]  “. . . what fell from the borders of ether, that is again brought back, and the regions of heaven gain receive it.” Lucretius, De Rerum Natura 2:1002-1004.

[88]  “What a place. I can feel the rats in the walls.” Jack Marlow (Franchot Tone), Phantom Lady.

[89]  “I saw a broken down piece of machinery. Nothing but the buck, the bed and the bottle for the rest of my life. That’s what I saw.” Kelly (Constance Towers), The Naked Kiss.

[90]  “Pieces of the past arising out of the rubble. Which evokes Eliot | and then evokes Suspicion. Ghosts all of them. Doers of no | good. | The past around us is deeper than. | Present events defy us, the past | Has no such scruples.” Jack Spicer, Six poems for Poetry Chicago.

[91]  “Once the band starts, everybody starts swaying from one side of the street to the other, especially those who drop in and follow the ones who have been to the funeral. These people are known as ‘the second line’ and they may be anyone passing along the street who wants to hear the music. The spirit hits them and they follow.” Louis Armstrong.

[92]  “ . . . ‘beauty’ is related not to ‘loveliness’ but to a state in which reality plays a part.” William Carlos Williams, Spring & All.

[93]  “It seems that the human mind has first to construct forms independently before we can find them in things.” Albert Einstein.

[94]  “It is the voice of the line | coming from that dark place | to foreshadow in | a foreground | our eyes are not yet  | accustomed to; | these sentences about whose | syntactical connections | we are told nothing.” Stephen Jonas, Morphogenesis.

[95]  “ They’d just as soon sell ya | a poison pizza as look atcha. || They’d Justas soon fireya | as hireya. || And they’d rather | killya than feedya.” Ed Dorn, “These Times Are Medieval.”

[96]  “Organic bubbles that could serve as dwellings for primitive life have been discovered inside a space rock that fell to Earth nearly three years ago.. . . Other research by various groups has provided some evidence to support a bolder speculation involving space rocks, that they actually might have delivered life itself to our planet. One study showed that life from Mars, if it ever existed, could have been transported to Earth inside a rock, thus making us all descendents of early Martians.” Robert Roy Britt. See also Jack Spicer on Martians, i.e. “Yeah. But my answer to playing tricks on the Martians is a poem by Ogden Nash. It's a lovely two-line poem: "When called by a panther / Don't anther." Jack Spicer, Interview with Warren Tallman. Which may or may not be relevant to the following footnote.

[97]  “The cow is of the bovine ilk;  | One end is moo, the other, milk.” Ogden Nash, “The cow.”

[98]  “Now, for what the world thinks of that ejaculation—I would not give a groat.” Laurence Sterne, Tristram Shandy, Vol. IX chapter IX.

[99]  “I want a slow and easy man | He needn't ever take the lead | Cause I work on that long-time plan | And I ain't a-lookin' for no speed.” Ida Cox, “One hour Mama blues.”

[100]  “The Authors are in eternity. | Our eyes reflect | prospects of the whole radiance | between you and me . . ..” Robert Duncan, “Variations on Two Dicta of William Blake.”

[101]  “Everything must become food. The art of drawing life out of everything. To vivify everything is the goal of life. Pleasure is life. The absence of pleasure is a way to pleasure, as death is a way to life.” Novalis, “Logological Fragments 1.”

[102]  “By which I imagine what I mean is that if the grass that is not real is real, as it undoubtedly is, what would be the difference between the way grass that is not real is real and the way real grass is real, then?” David Markson, Wittgenstein’s Mistress.

[103]  “You open that window again, I’ll throw you out of it.” Alec Stiles (Richard Widmark), The Street with No Name.

[104]  Another eruption of the Pathetic Fellatio. Cf. Book 7, Canto 41.

[105]  “He's got to get it, bring it, and put it right here | Or else he's gonna keep it out there | If he must steal it, beg it, or borrow it somewhere | Long as he gets it, I don't care.” Bessie Smith, “Put it right here blues.”

[106]  “There’s a party in my mind, | and I hope it never stops.” Talking Heads, “Memories Can’t Wait.”

[107]  “who gauges the shadow games? || I reek I reek | of mimologique.” Gerrit Lansing, “The Soluble Forest 2.”

[108]  “Every man, philosopher included, ends in his own finger-tips.” D.H. Lawrence

[109]  “I’d walk six miles | out of my way | To hear again | the slow decay | Of that piano | far away -- || King Tubby’s | Studio A.” Peter Culley, “Paris 1919.”

[110]  “In its extreme form the capitalist religion realizes the pure form of separation, to the point there is nothing left to separate. An absolute profanation without remainder coincides with equally vacuous and total consecration.” Giorgio Agamben, “In Praise of Profanation.”

[111]  cf. Book 1 Canto 1.

[112]  “Without narrative as background, as well as ‘limit’ which is gravity itself, images of identity cluster only in statistical distribution, leaving the primacy of recognition bound to what seems like minimum entropy in the immediate foreground; not a good substitute for the negentropy of either art or life.” John Clarke, From Feathers to Iron, Book 4.

[113]  “I am Nobody | who are you—“