In the loop-like, yet tangled farce's tail, the inmate 82967000, Pentheus Quercitin, aggravated colonist of deep paradox, always begins by descending from the level of the field of wavering red grain. Through the open mouth of the demonic stone Ichthyphallic Herm-carp, he always descends, using black stone skulls for hand-holds, inset in the rocky walls like cold smooth polyps in a silent black esophagus. But one descends into a warmth, a caustic hissing of enclosed contradictory productions, a bulging tunnel (the organisational stomach) where peppers and olives, dried fish and strange crenellated pickles are stored in grey-green amphora stacked like mummified torsos or hyaline locust crysali resembling pyramids of giant ambergris pellets. One's feet are calloused and much loved in the dark, standing on thick hair-braid carpets packed with gangrene spentacle, fine black spices, aromatic dusts, love's young kingly leer, and Egyptian asphaltum. Thus begins the noctambulisme of the submerged matrix, a journey through the bridge-house of the underworld, the oblivion/dwelling. Is this the rhizome of Ailinglapalap, or is it a Chinese variety of milkweed? Is it a nugget of red meat, a rapt scullogue of obvious vistas, or the garnet necklace of the widow? Is it Ouagadougou, Kinshasa, or is it "The Damp Man Again...?" Is it the Shiva senate or is it
I-tolling-how-many? Can I be smeared with Hornet's blood and chase myself N-2 what is known as annihilation, the low  country one enters before ecstatic redemption which is invariably a cascade of ideomorphic tubers spewing grid or pink  radishes bathed in incandescent Buick. Si, Sanchez. This is  oon-unit Zappa-Ta lost in the fabricated east wind, in the motley  hands of a wicker three-spined devil, a garden moloch with a bird-cage chest. Dr. De Grandin and Dr. Trowbridge may save  you with the chronoscopic claw.... may save you with the textual heteroplasm, or the pleonasmic antiredundancy interstring....
You clutch the walkie-talkie, "Come in Einbildungkraft, Come in, OVER" thunder, enthusiasm transtextual, transexual  Promethus with platinum bladed mohawk and toy laser pistol finds its answer in the global market place, in the slave markets of  the Southern Sudan, in the department stores of Tokyo, in the fish market of Tangier.... An image for once, YES, I've found the noumenal unit in question.... (the body as ode to disappearance, as landscape face traversed by catatonic knights, chromium  dolphins, paths and symbolic machines) His tech-gnathic indice is 123, looks like a Heidelberg model. There seems to be a  downloading scarab near the base of its skull.... (Khepera+Tete-A-Tete=Scarred Abacus).... "I don't think its in there, hard to
tell without the proper instruments." 2. Yesterday, we reconstructed in perspective the nest of a European Mole (Talpa  Europaea), surrounded by its cocentric galleries where muse the silent cacogastrophanic plunder, the nuts and berries of  biunivocal consciousness..... Come alive "wandering tendril of becoming-mad," Kudzu-KA, Image without organs, fragrant tracing of a diagram of mists, [AMA AMA AMA AMA] Kill Ixion in the windmill of  ontological relativity, acting as a soliton duct for the liquid of absolute value which flows in the beforeheadground in the radiance of multiplicity...... (S)he whose paranoia becomes a machine, free-standing viral tripod, the ultimate coupling of schitzophrenia and technology, of infinite components seeks union with the critic, Critter-Ich-neuman, Animal ergonaut of Cogitatio Universalis, femtotech-eyes in the stone. Tech-gnathic index of terraplane Hanuman indicates his popular illogical dogma (heavy-jawedness) with a (rise-OM)
bursting like Kwacha (flus) from his side, good money to reopen the case of Raymond Rousel's murder, a mistake over Robert Johnson's guitar. Someone is touching the girls at night, shaving their thighs through the robes of the sandman.... Temporal perpendicularity.... One finds two photographs, presumably of the same era: One, a picture of Lenin writing a letter in invisible
ink, the other, a small dark-skinned woman with a bundle of small wild-flowers hanging from her mouth..... "Eye aim thee connection resurrection fetish in a green mansion of idle banyan... S(he) arose in a swarm of micropavonine beetles, Kasidah wing, gross formation, actual placename, videomorphic textile reiterating the body as a song of nakedness. Technics Haute
replaces the spurting penis hieroglyph as a beggar's placard... Absence is just ice... Come to the end of nihilism to witness the murky trillion-bytes... super-chaotic simulacrum of the semi-eternal and quasi-divine..... Body-lottery enters extropic cascade loop set for twenty year cycles... Infinity is cradled in a landslide of red Imipolex to become a smile on the void, a fugacious
coupling, a bioidic emergence of endless enemies, these psychic reagents: Senor Barbasco has crawled into your womb (that wonderful oud as bonsai n0-place), saying I think therefore I YAM, saying the spiny boat-face shall pass through the waters of being-in-time, Amen, Kharazem....