Tuesday, June 29, 2004

Mona Monad was BirtBerthDayed

Now Mona was a monad that nomad, and nomaded her around the gerund the sheet of time

gerrymandering the selection of choice and love, a sexy lover of choice and desire, her Rimbaudboyo dreamlicked to her dramascaper.... Something like this was her mate, matter was the name of her hospital, her hopalong cassidy, the oratory of doubt, the dumdum of deniere arrives (accent missing exclaims Jilly) and so on and so on, so forth, and catalogue her love dye thee live long dayday her poetry knight a maid. Spectres of bliss! Her bliss was caramel along the maple sugar sap she forthed.

Fourth grade with her Jill the reader the knower was her stay, her stays! you say! what! Cheers I say and amble down the Hamlet hill, my poll and pollared head a hill of rambeldabble daddies.

Silence was something like I love her.

So shadows do rerun like old movies, epic similes sparse styles, ornate coal and lacqureed dust. Was that the right spelling of dust and lackwearea? hahahno you soltice silly phoneme girl and rain she ran around her funny face. Her funny face so like the freckles and chairs where she sate. Sate you thirst on her eyes! you silly goose of a scholastic line of flinging flight and wides brimmed sweet asses of Henri Bourrassa / wel something like that good dress, we tire of hearts splittin down their centuries and the old bags that know nothing trembling quaking cheeks.
O well

"we see," Said Mona.
and hurried along her way catching Jill and Franny on the rebound.

O, silence was masting ship sail furled the repetitive day

Friday, June 25, 2004

Now here/ now there....now here ...now away...fort/da...strong design....the sign is strong

> Subject: Re: Now here/ now there....now here ...now away...fort/da...strong design....the sign is strong
> yes im reading u rong! but how right! no I got that just as I
> sent message
> will send information demain sour(sour soir sunday)
> jean knows about but most students here seem dull over
> this amnazing information
> gide was not nice to genet when genet was a nobody
> but genet got him back years later
> so be carefull who u kick when they write ya letter! hahh
> a bientot, fanny
Mona writes back!
> > >
> > > wrong eliot knew about dada and rejected it: found an esssay thanks to
> > > bloom by eliiot which refers to TZARA inventor of dada
> > >
> > hell yer not reading me i said he didnt know dadada (hindu shit)
> >
> > please find out when eggzactly jacwques is coming down
> >
> > i might come
> >
> >
> > ciao again
> >
> >
> > kleist calls
> >
> >
> > the amazons lack a breast
> >
> > achilles etymologically means the lipless one
> > because he sucked his mother's tit without touching it
> >
> >
> >
> > i will have fun 2with this one
> >
> >
> > Then Jill riposted:
> > >
> > > >
> > > > dadada was pre-eliotic
> > > >
> > > > dada forgot a da
> > > >
> > > > pereversion as lacan says serves law of the father
> > > > by deviating it re-affirms
> > > >
> > > > is dada this
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > dada kant mean nothing
> > > >
> > > >
> > > > Nothing means nothing
> > > >
> >

Wednesday, June 23, 2004

Mona re:Monad Mona had a rhizome baby

SO I am wondering, says Mona to me, her finger (not her signified) under my skirt, uhm, my shirt, which we ought togo since are against publishing and our aesthetic is the purely unfinished one of old Dada and DaVinci.

Or rather it is like love, and spelling , orthographeme, here there are no 'ed'itors, there id itors and lictors, no lectors, or something like that. She Mona was hesitant about the heist, and Only wanted one thing: To Get out of Town

Mona had a rhizome baby, and a goathead,a desert a cactus periander, or Pericles in the relativity box, and her hush down ways, were blewing the smoke in her smile of wild wickedy way .

Mona did the boogie-woogie and the urgent boogie, but one night there was no one to dance.
Geepers! she exclaimed. Allthe things they said you cannot write about.

Later came the more animals, a new one, on the edge

AH She was hefting a principle of connection and heterogeneity... any point of a rhizome ... connected to anything other... (breath breath)..and must be. This is very different from the tree or root, whic....h plots a point, fixes an order. . . . A rhizome ...ceaselessly establishes connections between semiotic chains, organiza...tions of power, and circums....tances r...elative to the arts, sciences, and social struggles. A sem...iotic chain is like a tuber agglomerating very diverse acts, not only linguistic, but also perceptive, mimetic, ge.....stural, and cognitive: there is no language in itself, nor are there any linguistic universals, only a throng of dialects,.... patois, slangs, and specialized languages. There is no ideal speaker-listener, any more than there is a homogeneous linguistic community.

I am James Joyce's Daughter, she said.

No, I am not.

It makes me think of Pope, a before a long time ago and quotes.

Ok, more good book. Later.

Monday, June 21, 2004

Meet Mona and the Seven Lists

O Saintly lists of desire machines and the delire of writing its song harpingered over lover's body. So tis said it was the Jill is a fine monkey

a primal ape and some Vico merge melt over the seven sea of phenomena ah my lovelies, between shore and castle there are many places to be stooped on

many night forests

night goes by day disguised as its fundamental cheek

Thus Jill'll finally spill her seed!

she hushed the wind

Sunday, June 20, 2004

For a Reader ||In Here.. A.D Plateau :Explications.

Each text posting works as a plateau a niveau that slides into another, shifting shape changing energy, switching gears, movin ' from high and low, to low and high. interlaced with 'poetic' (troping words, text and syllable, and phoneme,morpheme,) fictional device, real references to the characters on display. A little machine of chaosmosis.

So each reader is invited to perceive the plateaus, though they appear chronological, as laminations over a series of horizontal and crisscrossing links, lines, narrative thicknesses (the unconsciousnesses) each of which micronarratives into pieces. There is then, no begining or ending. Backwards, go and come,forwards, to the side, changing a page , a view seen, glimsped and gone, and though the archives appear as dated they are not dated so much as marked by a reference (by a breath), constituted and constrained by the medium they apppear in, the blog fictions of Jill and Mona, Franny and her friendly.

One day of a night, a reader was asking Franny to explain her space of blogs and texts. And so it went like this. There are three figures, or characters, in this novel, fiction, blogchronolgy, and they are poetic flows, or becomings, that refigure, configure, and resolve themselves around motifs of desire and love, language and the body becoming.

The author, CLifford Duffy, or Sir, or esteemed Poet, was not sure how to unwrap himself of the veil of poetics he surrounded himself with, as the magic of language had taken him by the hand to the vales of dreamtongue speech, and the auralities of the spokenwritten, and the writtenspoken, of time and its rhymes its weaves and heave of breath and becoming.

But let us try then to explicate a tad:

The characters:

Mona is the daughter becoming of Franny and Jill.

Jill who is the daughter becoming of Gilles Deleuze and his woman becoming romance a la harlequin.

Franny the desire creation of Felix and the becoming of his becoming-woman.

Now these three characters change gender, and place, and body, each metamorphosing into the other, and into others other than 'who they are'. Think of a cartoon that animates itself perpetually changing and reshaping its character's main shape and identity.

and so Dearest Readers, lonesome and otherwise, world wide, and of the 'live world wide web' is what we reveal for the moment. The rest is language.

The rest is performative silence.

For now, whispered Mona, slipping into the unconscious.

Saturday, June 19, 2004


If Mona was herself, she'd someone else, becomed someone else. the sentence that makes her, putters
across over the page that fabricates a writing. Something like the gerund that higgledy-piggedly rattles its thumb. What! sheepers,she claims, I am the disjuction of traps, trapezoids, marathons, miraculating weaves, sampled tigers, bright laned in watch lists, not something to fib a horizontal
line of flight. Her mouth filled with line of flight, the Fffff sound open out rags her ne'er do well in the bum down days of nomad strobe light lovers of cartoon filled day.

Is that marooned? was vulva voluntareerism the reply?

shall we shrink black the digging bones? Mona is the woman of steal, the fanny of browne and her medicine is melancholy buttocks reared on the tops of mountains. Old lovers never never know the name of this just belly. O near the nelly dance of dillydo!

Shall we see the somersault
Prattle onyer opaths of otibiographeme the platonic plick-plack of shallomeizomay and the rod
group of grumpling dung-dumpers! What, is that shi_t? O Censor of plantidunes and lyric bellies? Youth of lyric blow and bow my name before their haven heaven. pitter pratter?

She eyes the deleuze caper of her daddy daddio.

ArChived Deleuze and Otherzz

Thence Dewlooze was archived in the ark of no template was playing the ackward smile of heaps and nuts,
they were gooseberries down there.
and margins
when a thousand tiny sexes escaped meantime the world was being ruled by one man and Orpheus knew it had to finalize, andthe Empire and its butt ended days must stop.So, she said I am Orpheus and wear no deleuze signifier in my underwead. Do you where me? Not so, she said climbing the theological mysteries of his back, mother.

Archived Jill and the many others were hunkered in electric space
stand. And
many mothers worried it out, suggesting the affordibility of webster
covering tunes of take and give forth and back twitching in that
place. A zeeziggy to undo the composition of the foiled mother in
her bodies

Can't you spell? asked Antihead. No.

Sunday, June 13, 2004

but at her Back

But at my back I hear...

she said the war of whisper it was gone, death was a night

time was the killer and she was looking for an answer besides the lover's reply . it was no horn battling down the hills of death and the long Odyssey of her self. a goddess named wise eyed abandondsed her leaving her high and dry was not the way it was got to go, not so for the Orpheus ofherself, her Eurydice self, her body a flying hill in the night. persimmon was not her name, her hands flutted down, the xerox gaze bodies gathering inthe night the garnered self, the words told she could not use, was fuse
the body
in its tale toll tell across the seven oceans of her eyes
hilding her body in the grip the tribal banging and the fragment the sick hospital of ships

stultified travelers of navy go down roses in the last light july the ropes of sendward the bollard held low the tugged veil and cutter spread out over the mouths and the ears was a playthign of ripe berries the flesh fruit the taste over areach her

eye in that dark the smoke clovered around

the wise eyed had no place for her Mona when the Jillies broke down and the detective came home on the click click the geese the geese it was farewell farewell and not me in the rain as you thought O she swayed in the

breath of the night


for she had persimmon hands of the ebony wood and the vale of city was her name

Friday, June 11, 2004

miracles abound

said Mona one day grabbing the machine around her finger, her little one at that, tastin' the lip of the web making it her own, not taking the crap of others, anymore than their blood, their blood belonged to them inthe L shaped houses of their homes. Was there a fog in the mist then, in the curling car? Island of the sand will not seize the instant of its chaos and the whispering shouts Hello Hello I am him alive well as the sun. Wings beating over the shore and the land spelled P hugged the shore the telltale signs of woe on its face

and Love

yes well Love went away and died its face

The next day

Yes, well says Jilly that was a nice little quote from James Joyce. Who do you think he is, your father? your father, another one in heaven. They don't believe, of course, na turally the fools, let their bodies rot in the earth which they cherish so much in its rotten death stinky shroud

see how they feel about 'mother' na ture the next time an earthquake comes kicking along

What are you so pessimistic about?


its ' the na ture of things'

I love the smell of Sartre coming into a cafe

Thursday, June 10, 2004

hentheybreak textdesiringmachines Only WorK

yep yep yep it was the grand old dt and rt and no absolution in the absolute dt. see the last chapitre of daddy's book, my heart slung high from the fish's bones of love and its dogmaticmantic absolute. SHe, was the slut of hearts, a slatternly tale of ontologies that creaked its fart past a path of jealous gods and lovers. Satin Satanic as any lover between her legs she wore down the substances of abuse, making her way past the past god[s] . It was a thing to hold morpheme word language spot tack alpha better cold dearth enter forage galleon gerrymnader hurlyhunker indian licorice juggle jubilant rosary pea so that her skirts were the slice of the I came to the city to see what my love could find and our feet were shot off in the table the tabernacle of the soi-meme was underdone a baked heart jossed by the burning stick of I want her hand

Now Mona had a fan club, and a fan skirt too, a dirndl.she was not sure of the spell. Jack and

Jillwent up the hill, to fetch a pail of water. Reader. See Jill read, See Jill read Franny.

"Arrive to the experiment text based sextexted the deterritorialized text based labs are moving out side the expository abstractions machines start
desire-machines desire
day and night" Hahahahaha, no one can take that seriously.

"undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined undefined side the machines day and night the machines day and nighttext based labs are moving out sextexted thee deterritorialized text based labs are moving out side the machines day and nightCome to the experiment text based labs are moving out side the machines day and night sextexted thee deterritorialized text based labs are moving out side to the experiment text based sextexted thee deterritorialized text based Come to the experiment text based sextexted thee deterritorialized based " More gobbledygook good book

Then wondong saw the

When wendding heard the time of dispersion
Then wondong saw the space of impression.
She was dwindle and dish.
A marsh entered the head and the bee buzzed

but the brags did not a good.

and shall be of the writers fluid it seeps in the vagina between body text and quoted vedas veins of precipitate things
so these waters swish
as our skirts do I the drag Queen of Desire
O U thing you My goulay and gondolier! My gondoloahloa and we ate chocolate that evening in Les Deux Magots with Felix-Franny and she slipped her hands [her many ones, all disjuncted!] under and into my experiiences of doubles articulations

AndDear Fristo as you know, you are the Christ figure of the Majordomo and that Deleuze has your name in her pocket, her pick pocket.
Frissy yer novels are wondrous wings of ideas smoothly slinking down yer sex.

Frissy Baby you are cooool Why lower yerself to the debating drivel of dull academics

Not so for a novelist

Be a novelist

Not an academic born in the mists and farted gazes of Aunty Del and Uncle Fran.
nirvana of boys there is.\\Swindles Once ther was a dullar ddssz in these here lists turned out she was not So and

thought to rescuse and recusant against our author functions.
we kissed her cunt
and her name was ruth by the wayfarers of Leman I sat down and crept/by these topologies we knew not their names.

as fer YOu: let us see your knickers and the valley of bliss behind them


darling when u come tonight say our many multitudinous names.
Mona felt her hand on her cock mouthing the name of moony eyed whores [pronounced with a long oooo as in irish] but Super Dragon
was a dominatrixks sometimes when she whipped her dills and dales over Kant and not ass.
Ass of languour.

THe real question was:
Would a fat dragon know how to piss?
When our author function was in London last summer confering with Filo [under the table blowing our things playing our flutes!} says old R. she the nag tag tapper teacher!!
We laughed afterwards, and ran up the steps to meet Jill.

Poetry is a way of life.

Make yer own bloody body without organs.
We are difference engineers, ok?

Monday, June 07, 2004

MonA eCalls iSoUEHsOU Lui? SPpppliiiiiccccceYer Letttttttttttttttressssssssssssssss


MonA Calls MonA ReCalls the Old Guy Heesou and his drunk letters bambish rambish speculate spectacular toootha chesof backtos EyEBalss of MAURiCe EStoLenBookAndsaintsssgenet and TZarasz bLuevenpurrples

The flourishing of bursts of energy dies beyond us.
delirium is An intimate experience maintains curious specifics
Dscharges are tra[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[[nsmittedynotion
What a difference between our fluctuations and the
brutality of words
a difference between the organism and clthose
Notions what an inherited dictionary. Tarzan learns Tzarathustragleaned
in his father's book to call tigers cats
Naming the Unknown by the Forever.
The translated word does not express Th e rigidity of forms impedes their transmission.
These words are so heavy tha the flow fails to carry
stampeding clamouring clutter in thefield of battle over earth over rammed earth barraged battered [bartered] earth bartered earth countries and counties duchies dukedoms fiefdom and serfdom grumping groan the farming peasant labour grunt and sweat the walking stool manure piled field and farm with river run strewn stream of brooks of spellbound crossing foot paths glades deep dark forests raving roaring tribes of maniacs in Christendom's breast Christendom the crusades the children's crusade led by Peter the 15 year old thousands sold into slavery arriving in Jerusalem the panic pandemonium lineages genealogies families coats of arms feuding war-lines lines lines flight and fight rampage and disarray astonished blood-packing mules bearing gangs of oath-taking them. Temperaments die before arriving at the goal
(firing blanks)
No word is capable of carrying the impulses one
wants to send with it
allow psychic alterations to disappear
resists effervescence.
require expansion to equivalent formulas. e our rhythm by their passassinate sensitivity
mechanism, Thoughtlessly uniform
fossilization , tortured inspiration.
stability Twist tensions
and aging Reveal poetic exaltations as useless
Cre ate politeness.
Promote th e use of analogies
Substitute for true emissions.
If one economizes on the riches of the soul, one dries
up the left-over along with the words.
Prevent the flow from molding itself on the cosmos.
Form species in sentiments
Destroy sinuosities
Result f rom the without knowing how to recei
It is the tyranny of the simple over the long-win
scern too concretely to leave room for the mi
Forget the true measures of expression: suggestions
Let infa city. And her friend Franny or Fanny
uattari. She wasn't sure. It mad e sense, it didn't matter. She was
revolved (resolved) to go through to the endEven if she was lesbian
housewife harlequin romance. S he knew therarealities disappear.
Sift wit
hout restoring.
Pathetic One learns words as one learns good manners. Jill turned Mona saying not h ere U dont' tthatdadts the dFRench things Here s theys cuszzes yas in thedacedf ace and we cUd Use SOme 'ood mammnermandarinss and not tangerusnes and russiansg odtoo ithout words and manners it is impossible to APPPEEEERRRRin
It is by making progress in words that one makes progress

Jill fleeting evocations.
Slow down short< em >-cuts and approximations.
Is always vice-versa for not being identical.
Eliminates solitary individuals who would like to
rejoin society.
Forces men
was not a lesbian. In the meantime she kept who would like to say "Otherwise" to say "Thus"
Introduces stuttering
. And Scuppering And Chain Gangs and Not those winkles like
theee carpentry of the word built to last forever obliges men
to construct according to patterns, like children
her>Mistakes included with p ostage The pennywhistle stamp. Or notions limit opening onto depths by merely standing ajar.
the penny post stamp.e is no appreciation of value in a word
s are the great levellers deomcraprtic

ords are family garments
oets enlarge words every year
Words already
have been mended so much they are in stitches.
People think it isIS called to exist
It is up to theettersm
spoke french when she was sure she
was not a lesbian. In the meantime she kept writing. That is she kept it
at her desk. Mistakes included with p ostage. The pennywhistle stamp. Or
the penny post stamp. Sometimes she was a french philosopher, other times

she was a girl with a life in a city. And her friend Franny or Fanny
. She wasn't sure. It made sense, it didn't matter. She was
(resolved) to go through to the end Even if she was lesbian
housewife harlequin romance. She knew the end was the end. Even if she
spelled her name backwards and heard the words Blanchot and ecrit
Mona called "abruptly" She "answered" and spoke dow n the cadences
of death, leaving me this text, this test as I lay dreaming. And you left
off dreaming some sore story of loneliness. popularized. Feelings without words in the dictionary disappear
Every space.
How remarkable

un texte que s'il cache au premier regard, au
premier venu, la loi de sa composition et la regle de son je. Un texte
reste d'ailleurs un texte imperceptible. La loi et la regles ne
s'abritent pas dans l'inaccessible d'un secret, simplement, elles ne
livrent jamais au pr
esent, a rien qu'on puisses rigoureusment nommer une
perception. Au risque tousjours et par essencetterism is offerin g a impossible to break words.
Unique feelings are so unique that they can not be
popularized. Feelings without words in the dictionary disappear.
Every year thousands of feelings disappear for lack
of a concrete form.
Feelings demand living spa
rema rkable the poet's disheartened absorption in words.
Things and nothings to communicate become daily more imperious.
efforts at destruction witness to the need to rebuild.
How long will people hold out in the shrunken domain of
The poet suffers indirectly
Words remain the work of the poet, his existence, hergob

ISMOanIDO Believes in the potential elevation beyond WORDS; wants
the development of transmissions where nothing is
lost in the process; offers
a verb equal to a shock By
the overload of expansion the forms leap up by themselve
IMOnaRAchOU Begins the destruction of words for letter
MOna MOna
SOU Wants letters to pull in among themselves all desir
ISJIllIDORE SoFewU Fakes people stop using foregone conclusions, words.
ISFranneeRESOU Shows another way out between W
charactersTERS. sHe will create emotions against language, for the
pleasure of the tongue
It consists of teachinthatlettersdestination
than words. Will unmake words into their letters.
sawed the seeds of dissing and recourse not discourse buthe splitting apart of hairs and bifurcations of desires in the small font between

we are warning U dont eff with us Rimbum.Just cause U think u are Genets son it does not make it true or false so dont play Rumbaud games here cause something is sick about that and the same goes gores for what is her name in ENGLAND SCHIZOANALYSISHERE and his Lover girl. Everyone knows they are foolin about. playing frisbeen schizo gamesPaleese Chil. let ye r schizz flow go!!dont be so Molar!!crhist those ondontiads are enufffo Each poet will integrate everything into Everything
Evermust be revealedtters.
Poetry can no longer be remade can be remde redone . Yeah yea tHis was Inti EW VEIN OF LYRICISM. Not another vEin Paleeeeze
Anyone who can not leave words behind can stay back with them!

Anyone and Noune


This does not mean destroying words for other words.
wWor have been menso much they are in stitches.
eoplhinkitiimpossible to break words.
ue feeliarsuniquthathecannotbepopularize;;eelingithorditheictioeryfleeryear hundredsthousands feelingsreedisappear RDS;
If this material existed before, it didn't have a name to recognize it by.
works will be those made entirely out of this element, but with
suitable rules and genres!
Te itself.
theemetrilletterricsvalancesis thereed.

< Nor forging notions to specify their nuances.
Nor mixing terms to make them hold more meaning.
es mean
others which exist, but lacking
a name are unacknowledged.
p to

Metricsrics is a material that can always be demonstrated.
s seeds already existing:
is noEvery year thousands of feelings disappear for lack

appreciation of value in a word.
otions limit opening onto depths by merely standing ajar.
Words are family garments.
ets have been mended so much they are in stitches.
so unique that they can not be
popularized. Feelings without words in the dictionary disappear.
Every year thousands of feelings disappear for lack

of a concrete formNSE WORDS;
S.his material existed before, it didn't have a name to recognize it by.
etterics works will be those made entirely out of this element, but with
to t.

It is theroleothe poet to advance toward subversive sources.
bligation of the poet to advance in the black and
is awaiting his successors in poeo they already exist somewhere, ready to burst forth
in::::::::::::thers which exist, but lacking a name are unacknowledged.::::::idea needs a calling card to make itself known.
Ideas are known by the name of t:::::::::::::::::::::::::::::heir creator.
It i::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::::etterism is offering a
etterics is a material that can always be demonstrated.
etterics seeds already existingEveryfleeryear hundredsthousands feelingsreedisappear ;
NSEThere is no appreciation of value in a word.
Words are the every
ords already have been mended so much they are in stitches.
eople think it is impossible to break words.
nique feelings are so unique that they can not be
popularized. Feelings without words in the dictionary disappear.
Everyfleeryear hundredsthousands feelingsreedisappear RDS;
Ifhisal existed before, it didn't have a name to recognize it by.
letterirkswill behoseadeentirely out of this element, but with
suitable rules and genresewordsexisshasfighttperpetuateherselveself.
theemetrilletterricsvalancesis thereed.

Friday, June 04, 2004

mOnat LeMaitre

Mona le maitre was having a cake and
crying high murder to the seven seas cries hollering mutiny on the spinning ship's deck awash with swash buckling buccaneers & pirates the spinning plates of the savannah view on the passing land lubbers love madno which does not move or budge its stationary halt its

Jill in the and Ooona
stationary journey in the day through the newstrips of history its hammer hammering the news Mona pell mell and her bodies in the sheets of history in the backbones of adam eve history rumour sinking its teeth battleboats ships battle cries

and the buttocks cried hurled

cried steeled hurled

Love you Madno

Wednesday, June 02, 2004

the ILL iad by Mona and Franny

Sing in Us O Goddess the song of you know who in hexameters

to Paris, the first hippy and my lover... so shall the winds at yer teeth hear your coming as your scream breaches the sky

O finger in your mouth is yer song. he said hold it tight and tighter of cambric and tweeze.

Mona had an homage to her farther father Tristan T. approximate man approximately woman

Ah! Becomings Women

Mona always knew a name~~

Mona was always the daughter of Tristan his loves, his mighty nightly desire of the approximate crew and their chaos down, the Chaos crew of the old days in cahoots with the boot of Antiwar and Antioedipus, the nephew and grandniece of Antioedipus Tzarathustra, daughter of Nietzsche and lover, the eternal return of its other names, games across the station of time and her name o love, immanence was her wand and cane. So like this, the others spoke and sang their jewel, the plummet of fall, and the pavilion of wings by the grand water of the preheard saga cage in its rubdown mate. Some time to take the clocks of bridges, and the oil of sediment its single note of clickclack heel and dancer done deal.
heavy sunday of mocking tones and the boiling of the veins that martyred the name and
married the foster weekly boy heavy in the haunches and Kaspar alas our good Kaspar is
gone into inside the me myself refound found again
and again the breath
the bells ring with out reason no reason without us too we
ring bells ring clocks kick no reason yes us too
we ring tingle the sound of chains the noise of shackles link
we'll ring ring we'll do my approximate ones with the bell the bells

what is this language strapping us we vault in the light
our nerves are belts in the hands of time
doubt comes our single sickness raging cholera of collared selves
we ring with the bang of belts and bells
inside fallen

torn up thrown up like packing paper the boxes
unwrapped raging gift of another time
the slick shine of defences armadillo of packaging
hidden inside sliding self fallen
what is the word
why ring bells
reason rings outside your heads my word smoking
is your word

approximate lady like you comme moi reader like her reader Her Reader approximate one
leaning over the lectern gown flowing perched on the edge of the seat of eternity no desires to stare her name

all your actions are seen there is nothing to hide
legendary learner of knowledge

L'hooome apprOximatey AlterED extrait extract of Poesie verse

dimanche lourd couvercle sur le bouillonnement du sang
hebdomadaire poids accroupi sur ses muscles
tombrieur de soi-mme retrouv
les cloches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi
sonnez cloches sans raison et nous aussi
nous nous rouirons au bruit desnes
que nous ferons sonner en nous avec les cloches

quel est ce langage qui nous fouette nous sursautons dans la lumi
nos nerfs sont des fouets entre les mains du temps
et le doute vient avec une seule aile incolore
se vissant se comprimant sasant en nous
comme le papier froiss l'emballage dfait
cadeau d'un autre lissements des poissons d'amertume

les cloches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi
les yeux des fruits nous regardent attentivement
et toutes nos actionslavon lit
elle emporte les doux fils des regards qui ont
aux pieds des murs dans les bars ldes vies
allch les faibles li des tentations tari des extases
creu fond des vieilles variantes
les regards qui prennent avec des mains
le clair produit du jour ou ombrageuse apparition
qui donnent la we ring with the bang of belts and bells
inside fallen
torn up thrown up like packing paper the boxes
unwrapped raging gift of another time
the slick shine of defences armadillo of packaging
hidden inside sliding self>soucieuse richesse du sourire
visse comme une fleur la boutonnire
du matin
ceux qui demandent le repos ou la volupt
les touchers d'lectriques vibrations les sursauts
les aventures le feu la certitude ou l'esclavage
les regards qui ont ramp le long des discrtes tourmentes
uss les pavs dfaces hands noise perfect shine making drums skate pitter patter
snare drum brushes cooly across the surface of its lace and gold
trimmings fancy fretwork metalwork of harbingers
horns horns of tunes out
and about lapel epaulette tight
skirted nyloned legged slips which fall
away slips slave ships pander to my body of darkness through light I seek
darkness shines gleam like an arm a bracelet a gleaming forearm a
glowing bicep the shoulder the
waits the waist with hands around
hand[s] on ass O round ass ofrivire a tant lust and desire let me be and stick it to
you because it doesn't cut mustard when you walk off leaving me and
my high and dry pencils dry barren acrid obtuse shorn of my locks and
talks bugged by the eternal doubt of wllow trees their
braying gurgles of
dusk a husk of shells O and questions for me un-named self survivor its
no use burning your bridges behind es villes et expiÃ
maintes bassesses dans les aumnes se suivent serrs autour des
rubans d'eau
et coulent vers les mers en emportant sur leur passage
les humaines ordures et leurs mirages
la terre humaine mon desire a toi les tourbillons
l'eau de la rivire a tant lav son lit
que mme la lumire glisse sur l'onde lisse
washed its bottom its bottom rinsed
et tombe au fond avec le lourd clat des pierres
clatter of rocks
les cloches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi
les soucis que nous portons avec nous
qui sont nos vtementsintrieurs
clothes we put on in the dawn
que nous mettons tous les matins
singing matins at dawn the patins glow
night gurgles its throat
que la nuit dfait avec des mains de rve
that night undoes
orns d'inutiles rbus mtalliques
landscape traffic the undertunnel there
purifis dans le bain des paysages circulaires
I saw on even insect and the night of hammers the accordians of the mouth
in the cities where death is readied our throng of hellcasters
dans les villes prpares au carnage au sacrifice
prs des mers aux balayements de perspectives
sur les montagnes aux inqui
the melancholy mountains
dans les villages aux douloureuses nonchalances
la main pesante sur la t
les cloches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi
nous partons avec les dparts arrivons avec les arri
partons avec les arrives arrivons quand les autres partent
arrive with the arrivals cut split with the depatures
sans raison un peu secs un peu durs
a dry mouth a little dry hard frightend
folly of bread burdened by its stolen factory
pain nourriture plus de pain qui accompagne
gamin of lover its hurried sweet
la chanson savoureuse sur la gamme de la langue
les couleurs dposent leur poids et pensent
et pensent ou crient et restent et se nourrissent
de fruits lgers comme la fume planent
the mouth undone hooked by the blade
smoked the verb tear

qui pense la chaleur que tisse la parole
autour de son noyau le rve qu'on appelle nous

les cloches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi
nous marchonspour chapper aufomillement des routes
avec un flacoysage une maladie une seule
une seule maladie que nous cultivons la mort
je saisqueje porte la mlodie en moi et n'en ai pas peur
je porte la mort et si je meurs c'est la mort
qui me portera dans ses bras imperceptibles
fins et lgers comme l'odeur inthosedaymaisonflakede l'herbe maigre
fins et lgers commele dpartsans cause
sans amertumeans dettes sans regret
les clonothing nothing no teeth no any notch a touch ches sonnent sans raison et nous aussi pourring bells for no reason reasons qwhy look for the end of the chain quoi chercher le bout de la chane qui nous relie la chane that pulls us this chain of
sonnez cloches sans raison et nous aussi
nous ferons sonner en nous les verres cass
les monnaies d'argent mles aux fausses monnaies
les dris the counterfiet coin the scratch cash des f en rire et en temp
the phony money the fast money trick money no money
aux portes desquelles pourraient s'ouvrir les gouffres
les tombes d'air les moulins broyant les os arctiques
ces ftes qui nous pta that we carry inside our heads a ball of poetry ortent les ttes au ciel
et crachent sur nos muscles la nuit du plomb fondu upside
down walkers of the sun
coffee 15 cents the filligree nun

je parle de qui parle qui parle je suis seul
je ne suis qu'un petit bruit j'ai plusieurs bruit en moi
un bruit glafroissu carrefourjetsur le trottoir humide
aux pieds des hommes presscourant avec leur morts autour
de la mort qui end ses bras
sur lekings be undone and princes be
lovers in tents where royal treaties are signed made in the power of
lust and wealth gree and appetite
cadran de l'heure seule vivante au soleil

le souffle obscur de la nuit s'paissit
et le long des veines chantent les fltes marines
transposes sur les octaves des couches de diverses existences
les vies se rptent vies ctque nous ne voyons pas
l'utltra-violet de tant de voies parallles
the station of time and her name o love, immanence was her wand and cane. So like this, the others spoke and sang their jewel, the plummet of fall, and the pavilion of wings by the grand water of the prla chaleur que tisse la parole
autour the word that shakes the parole
de son noyau le reve eheard saga cage in its rubdown mate. Some time to take the clocks of bridgess qui nous aurions pu prendre
celles par lesquelles nous aurions
pu ne pas venir au monde
ou en tre dparall my words on parole
qui tisse tis depuis longtemps si longtemps
qu'on aurait oubliet lpoque et lsong the earth a terre qui nous aurait sucla chair
sels et maux liquides limpides au fond des puits

je pense a la chaleurqu'on appelle nous