. thinking  inking
   blood link

      in the head
  it's his
  around the nave
     it's his

  what church is this?
    is this the atheist rite of passage

    calibrated  to the end of the world



he's thinking


 he's thinking  about her                 ( hour  &  night)  all of the time 
  a breath to take            
           think   how  how 


Re: things

                                'poetry is between things '______________________

Re: things____________________________________________

  where is this supposed between things?

He's working  between the things the buttons of her sheet. She's wondered what became of _ he's at the sphinx end of

things? what's between is how a head falls breaking its heart over the shoulder of an empty head,a broken doll, bitterness , condemneed, the gold god , cramming , the 

 not that's not it's the grey sky , better, between thing, circumstance, invention, imagination, ------------




    poetry   _____ works ______between things ____________



Yesterday .. .


   He suffered  ... he couldn't find his body. No one found it. the day before a brief glimpse ... a touch in passing .. then he remembers what loss is.

  Loss is what was and no more. No more is of was? was is was. his was . he was there but not a stranger in passing this glass of glimpse into the rare form of self.

She was suffering his suffering  glancing at him in the mirror of her sunglasses. No one's touched him in, as they say, a long time. Too long to remember . But the pain of its absence is a memory to behold. suffering the what was not. Nor isn't and the how to in the loss of the mouth  in the moment  of its present.

He walked. turned the corner. boarded the bus. crowded dogs swarming on him he's gone a death blow to the sudden subject and no more. but the existence that justifies itself at the edge of the economy.

 O that economy. That book.   Yes, in the summer of their advent. No troubles tear them apart limb from limb worse than the troubles of their summer . that's no more. ruled by rules of the talking grammar of the god assent to the language powers that be . determining his self.

 what breaths in this hour but suffering loneliness, debt, so long, a word, debut.

how to announce oneself when dying . and the stranger coming going, going and coming, its recompense spent. Freed from this double summer spent? a hoarse voice whispering in the gallery. a smashing bird's next. torment for the one who's heard of all too much.

He's lost there. He was alone. Walking. the bus. then missed it, gets on the back, changing seats she's clustered his walking on with his hate.

 Loneliness, which almost has the word lioness in it, is the dog that's torn the river. which was not a river, but the rapids of the back-spent pages.

A man dying of his worried worth? let's have no self pity here, no one's applauding least of all his friends.

 He was brooding. No never brooding but it wondered at him this hour.

He was there, in the city, it's dark tent cloy on him.

A dog down by night.

 He was the river extraordinaire suffered by the waves of its algae its laughter. One's not so easy to finish as this.
   As the eyes can't see what heaven knows?  we'll come back to this. in the days that come. overbearing like a rune in the sky.



re: the fr


 of this

Re: the fr...

you were the retarded one

  the night   the day pushed by the kettle

  tardy as behind that which loved you

 which you wanted to love

as the person was she


is that the night

 its continuity used to be a brazen weed in a song



   Chrome   browser is trying to convince me it's a better in terms of speed etc. but as an artistic 'object'

the blogs that I do look better , in my view, on firefox.

it's an ongoing question.



found transNaLtion of tzara's________________________________ misspelling leads to freaks of learning & findings one did not see previous as the seeing to the text of a poem is infinite

_________________ an older text|blog


this computer is too slow to enrich this posting_______________________________________

 found transNaLtion of tzara's

Cinema Calendar Of The Abstract Heart - 09

the fibres give in to your starry warmth
a lamp is called green and sees
carefully stepping into a season of fever
the wind has swept the rivers' magic
and i've perforated the nerve
by the clear frozen lake
has snapped the sabre
but the dance round terrace tables
shuts in the shock of the marble shudder
new sober


be interesting to do a comparative study between these first book poems of
Tzara against some of the weaker poets doing attempted, and i say attempted advisedely,
imitation of this style which Tzara invented, at least from the surrounding rhizomes. trouble with some of the imitators is they dont they are doing so

Should also point out that Tzara never punctuated any of his poems _ his prose poems yes, but not the others....
a strength which appears feared in the english language which we can deterritorialize enuff



the fr...


   i have the french of a  retard .. an ocean block[s] the view. a brain ham. a lonesome hog. a
  . what's that wind. a clacking at the gate. who's that cringing? cringe is a phony word. phony is  aphony word.a  word is a phony a word s a phoneme a  sound at the centre that is not centre that is me the self spun on the world axis . not another word. find self to outward gland. a bearing south in the wind. the book writing. no one's there.

hear. hear? hear that deafness in the dong dong of the night . of the night. of the night

  of the night               of the night

  'what was once wild land'            almost hit the road      .

     what does it mean to say 'i have the french of a retard' what does the root word tard hearken to? a lateness a delay not arriving at the same speed as the others as 'everyone'    as 'anyone'    

 it's about being on time  / about being able to speak on time   in time the time of understanding that others and even oneself understands    gets  across as we  say

  so its about time and if your time is late e ither from speaking or thinking too fast  and too slow

too behind the others 

  then you are retarded you are behind the others

 mon francais est retardee

  it's quite amusing when you think about it as  I was alive in the 16th century wandering through france
   a poet in my grime a prisoner perhaps as thousands of others but france was open if royal it was a free country
     lines of crazy escape were everywhere....
         what happened ?                                     -___ maybe I was killed in a sword fight i cant remember or struck down in the street by  being in the wrong place  or the night

was dark and i could not see
  and something was choking me  smothing me

  and i was dirty
     my face was dirty

     i was dying




   i needed to step back/   catch my breath/   get  a view on things  ___
   to understand what was happening /

  it's not failure / no one's failed   

  perhaps this is, having done this, stepped back, is where the real lines of creative ... enounter  between   us   lie.. between     ____________ and myself  ___.

                                      _______________________________ it's a strange old world without her                                                                     even for seven days  ________________

so who are we? what vowel of night and glimmer?
 who were we? without making a  mystique of it  
  but to see the vivid it is 







|   Friday  |

 it's been almost a week.  tomorrow it will be a week. since. last i saw  _ i mean spoke to ___ it's been

                                   near to seven days    ____________ what does seven days mean? seven's one of those symbolic numbers __ seven days of creation _s even years molecules change  _____

                                                   seven rhymes/with