lanx australis

Aug 14

„ in a very real sense

voici ce qu’est devenu -: 
i used to park cars on the rim of earth 
and, where zigzags tipped down from there, 
watched hills and roads ring wreathing towards 
and human kinds on knowing tracks 

and now 
i park cars on the rim of earth 
and, while caravans collide me in 
minimal ways, 
i dream nothing and see pebbles more clearly and 
asphalt and 
pepper of graves that turn to face the earthly sun 
where, a hundred years ago, 
an automobile incident 
crunched the universe to motion

Dec 6

making lines in sand ; adopting strange postures,
   unifying theoretically the various scenaria
   and enacting according to a plan little or nothing
being told by natives of Syrakousi the
   expected or known truths of things
   poisoned by the discourse —

standing in ways that could be seen
and all the while codifying notions,
   hollow on one side;
      — poisoning the discourse

leaving things unproven and then proving them
being told
having the self disturbed or
   having the sand disturbed or
   ultimately the sand embodying, embalming
or, being possessed of so pure a mind
or, being written of, and becoming, even in life

Apr 26


Sep 25

kept gaudy, meredith, you know this
what’s halfway across the galaxy if not you and i?
i spent the best tears of my life on you and split screens took that away from you, I think, I think I forgot how to even face the right direction when the chips hit the fan,
I think I
  1 . produced a grand heiroglyph of impenetrable value, I think
  2 . I was the ideas man or
  3 . maybe I wouldn’t want to be, I think I
  4 . spoke like a smokestack, I think I whistled like coal tracks, at least when anyone was listening, I think I went on for far too long
  5 . believing the wind could turn south or that I’d never be hit by the subway, despite the fact that 
  6 . on the eve of every next day I think I
  7 . heard a little whistle and every day I think I
  8 . waited a little longer and I’ll tell you one thing - 
      that a watched pot never boils, so ask for whom the bell tolls; so ask another hell of prose, believe each of your misfortunes but only one at a time - have a vonnegut phase - read a book that tells you not to stop sticking needles in your heartstrings even when you can’t see anymore, and read another book,
      or read this
      and whatever you do don’t be too kind or too cruel or too abstract around animals and don’t take the advice given to you by someone who asks you not to take their advice unless you suspect that they’ve taken it too

      and remember that there’s nothing deeper than sorrow,
      and that the ocean is mostly dead

      what’s god to avoid? a void.

Jul 28

The untended parley spins on,
caulked with chance and counters;
let us not remember //
& to hell with the sum and our parts

Jun 27

Matted and coughed up and regarded as edgeless
  a spartan mind; darkened (sunspotted)
    a panopticon suppos’d but BOUNDED

500 tips for a seemly monology
  bargain for less than you can afford
    and choose not to die


J was killed by its right hand, published or not
  I saw it speak, I shook [[impudence]]
    and I was equal

Sit at the right hand and choke
  fill with the liquor of human blood and pump it;      
    sit and drink the murk of inference

is not the hand’s-print the mark of sapiensce?
  J was shook [[to simply live apart]]
    and none should mourn a worker ant

Jun 14

crackel your eyelids perily and hear a surreptition
the melt-mellowed globes of windhome wisdom burn, along time a go;;
and tell us this:

    in subservice a Weary Windower creeps hollowed through hallows,
    breathing a sweet unbreath to umbrage, umbrella turned tiltways
    (to older crimes, a twist to unseal, a sealant, a ssailant; and
    back-and-forth comes more than spacely — )
    this unsavored savior, laborer, able ( — as anyone, as no one)
    noon-day, moon-day, lune-day, [;loon-day] finds them just as
    ever, at least until the city falls
among the chirping of chickadees, children, t;heirs

Apr 17


it stayed rainy. sand-soaked waves upon a wave-soaked beach,
every-so-seafoam careening to and fro. beneath a branching birchbark
brightness - krakow, krakow - animation suspended from a whirligig
ceiling. sundall and maxwell furled and twisted up, opposing, knowing

earlier, earth was circus splendor. then pins and needles set scores
on the curling shore, and solely stood stilts against the whorls and
winding whims of static. a foregone conclusion, a forecast not found
wanting: maxwell, eighteen years old, surfing channels, surfing usa.
sun, sun, sun, sun, rain, rain, rain, rain. forty days and forty
nights. pell-mell, gates of hell.

a spontaneity betrays nothing; they believe in each other. maxwell
wraps a covert claw around his glow, his own glow. arcs on the
dartboard, dashboard dark, carnival varnish. sundall eyes the storm.

a tree falls in the forest and a butterfly beats out one last breath
and, halfway across a heartbeat, turbulences turn unheard. earth is

Mar 14

park your car, perchance this purchase
all beauty is -made, all scramble is our own.
things that are not ours nonetheless belong to us
as numerals, as pantheons, as parthenons, \ \
would we have composers if not for arrows?
is there something so remarkable of 1679?
if all these fell in the forest-
and if these were the forest-
so, as the forest, is you

Jan 27

all Halick’s bright and dancing things
this hereby lost forgotten sort of delicate substance strung from room to room
He writes a hollowness in things I recognize, but -
stories all grind grandeur in equal measure, simulət regions
[ to believe in oneself, if only for the lack of ]
[ oneself, a breach of anti-conduct ]
prince’s paupers - a curse - punishable by promotion
but if we could not escape this form ()
Esther caught me once a brief lesson 
along the shores of less grand rivers and
     serial time
// and also in my own collusion, which I disturb
     not as he did, that visitor of iandi
iambs, sparsely f
to be frank, what he said on that bank illgotten - 
that this and all was amber itself
            (gamboge, i interjected,
                            - and honey )
if light needs a medium, on and on,
regardless, that art has no Laplacian clockwork

imbued and unincurious I rəd on 

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