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The Department of Linguistic Records

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Lanny Quarles (Great Skull Zero)

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NOVA #13

tedrilled vagina squid helmet statue lay squirming on the void palette soft crustaceons of blue fire tend it with their disguised mathematics twist-flexing skeletons of hyperbolic expressions congeal at the mouthparts of the interlocutor whose vast vendian gelatiform holos is a startling thing to wear dangling from your pierced clittoral hood-works jet turrets in the monkey head plastic or clear crystalline sugar skulls like barnacles on the dendritic plain proto-camels pad across a yellow expanse of technogenic sponge-rainbow-afro, monkey man-batornado offering itself to the golden squirming chalice of electricked snakes swimming through glass parthenon replica submerged in crimson gelatin under I ching echinodermoplastic spiked rad-shield cloaked with Medusa's praise. The river of pure squid is forded, crossed in a beatitude reaching from far blue sanded shores, reached revealing one's faces have become uncontrollable and in the caves, the phosphorescent velvet lichens glows growing into words one cannot speak readily, altering its illumination as if it were a pixillized linguistic organic billboard. Sending curses and tribulations, far-fetched stories of quaint disasters, this text may be operated as a polyallegorical crossectional dream recording critical of all human use of space and time, forever creeping into the digression of this very sentence, work, and overall endeavor of the chronos-vista... And over the bright wide sssity, cool with calous circumnavigation, Autopian citizens weave their multivehicular life-plots. Crosses squirting electrified blood onto the naked children dancing around on a huge blue android buddha. Screams and giggles. Screams and giggles. Foppish oriental lads stand in little mumuring groups wearing Fibre-optical suits and hats styled after 18th century aristowear They hold conversations about the new synthwines and the state of the world tissue market or what cosmetic adjustments they'd like to have done to their figures. Flesh words sizzle on outdoor grills tended by the various. There is a hanging nearby and the cheers go up, cruel flags singing at half mast. In a street in the Los Angeles sector, a solipsean soldier riding a black velvet hydra-camel pauses to light his dudeen of opium and think back to his glory days in Holy Zurich. The VTOL traffic over the Mexico city sector is hell at midday. Its like a swarm of buzzards all trying to lite on the same piece of drowned and rotted carrion. Sinis D'eemo was in the thick of it, trying to remember which vector to settle down onto. As he jets along at 2500 feet above the sprawl of highrises and smog, the unfinished business haunts him, yet he determined to complete the new directive issued by the underworld

anachronism is a way of life plus the wait the inevitable return minus the cat evenings in the winter receive the splinter in the elbow a tow. a multitude of men are made one person cartesian world as machine garden polymorphous senses trying to crawl aboard winged speedboat were eight legged fish butlers from the mansion of methexis 0 mine wan about sod roses people need to build helix ladders for my house and our house their cattle to copulate upon genetic fire house crumbles in the x-ray moonlight river silt moving from his sinuses in the receding cartoon afterbirth of weekend merry making nonsense acts like a narcotic or an architechure of momentary wombs hidey holes in a maze of being organism every sentence that occurs is something else a vast cryptography of postponement algebra is heroin laughter is a knife is being thrown at many targets at once all are permutated in virtual intelligence parodying the self at work on a meaningful task losing oneself to the hobby world aspect of all life for there is no true empowerment of the imagination for the atomic garden is closed for all those who seek neither muscles nor a slow death what's left is doctor detroit boogie dance make-up its called glitter choreograph scenaglittle tittle iron hand business speach kitchen and under the broken toes of the soldier child new grass is thrusting some image of encodement of a mosaic at once redundent utopian and of unfocused garbage piling up the factory whose end product is spooge black diorite buffalo surrounded with purple tranquil flower lutes bloom in song rolling through the ashes of the dead eyes shut tightly mouth babbling shkoomarabalalamaboomar trakushkavatrossey ivory tentacles reaching into the abyss for the receding face blue glass mask falling away from the city ivory tentacles caressing the nuptial forms of embodiment the wedding of signified with signifier only in skull behind house of bone and bread revived in the octagonal platinum flakes the new ecospheres the random ecospheres let there be causation let there be conflict the world is our chemistry set the image is set aside in the unjudging continuum to digest the lost moments of the dreamer's torment and ten thousand wasps form

in warts and gaseous hateful phrases burrowing into greedy recesses of cocaine farting cattle with copper nose rings a bell in the church tower perched as a trout parrot in joyful stupor of two dimensional freedom itch on the liver of five dimensional backwards earthling in time for the faded trigonometry slide show sunset soiree... Siegfried soon was able to recapture the best catastrophic effects of W.W.I in his fun-loving popacifist army (275 workers contract all prices on oil futures increase) and proceded to France via leavened bred His first ideas of war were glorified cumming in image battle all (over gaza thursdays she strips $18.76 closing the benchmark chairwoman flies his files bankruptcy) but soon changed sexes when witnessed the destruction of His subject matter (communications systems atop the vehicles will enable commanders to use automated dialing) began to deal not with how chaotic and broken war really is Groping for friendly hands (in the battlefield and transfer data between command posts) and clutched and died is using grotesque (government experts who go split on tax overhaul impact to sell Spectradyne) His vivid use the grotesque shows real war Poetry must (Pepsico buys general cinema unit west texas intermediate crude limits) must have a true information to the reader with ingenuine mannerisms (for more than 400 industrial chemicals ingested congressional budget office fine exhibit) To him poetry had become too complete (of pervasive attitudes towards the new machine powers Japan courtroom irony) and perfect in it's verse The civilian world Dear (B-i laser jet series ruins of spirtual billions rehollow the faithful in video cards) red-faced father God who lit your mind He who is... (plastic princess DIE dolls Ney-Work hard-drive specials unemployment rate) is a God why then is he letting such a catastrophe go (birthrate go blessing R and D pinnacle go go go baby go) approach problems and gave no resolution (of greatness modems AMEX NYSE nice to see you dieing liquidating your divine dividends) all Along his pacifulosophy war device spinal religion which fueled emotions to write (said his city will have trouble absorbing the aliens) savagery nauseated soon

twisting orgies of pregnant toiling wind, winding furfeather assclocks and screwing up in themselves to achieve a quaint agony, rolling through momentary tunnels made from a series of repeated images, numbers like the number eight, and the number six, traveling through the holes, and beginning to beg to be organized in an organic arangement, like a flower, a nucleus with radiating arms. On, on, through a cooing witness of ectstatic mathematics, marrying the dissonant sounds of decay to the civilised diseased movements of atomic history, whose curdling bonnets of adjectives form effortlessly into the mocking songs of half-life escape pleasure, measuring themselves indifferently in front of the vain-formless countenance of molting mirrors, an optical mire of holocaustic maw-slop, slipping on the wetness of rivelled rocks in grinding rivers, abandoned by water, new Niles becoming my never-necklace lifting, becoming, scolding, a vague tournament of spinal apocalypses carried in copper sarcophaguses into the golden light of sleep's dawn, which at the end, is vituperated, livid, a counsel of curslings actuating seven war dances of rapid eye movement, shaking off the night's meta-armor of young metallic remarks, which bloom as the cortex-grey bed-site silently roars...

From this point on, one might say there is only the pluralist clickings of scenarialism confounded with the trans-subjectivity of organic interface. Old hats burn in new flame, dissolving from the frame, wet with the mouths of global conjecture, and fragments, the non-sequitors, non-sequential centaurs, 19th century british pagans, esophageal pipe-organs in a black grassed valley, pink sky, smells of grandmother's rancid-sweet perfume, british pagans strolling mindlessly in burning tophats, and I will paint, they scream against the memory of all criticisms. They are mad, exotic, those useless words, those useless gentlemen, they stroll through valley freckled with living, organic, biological, animal pipe organs that scream... Purple mountains, naked supple mountains of forgotten nausea falling into bliss-bliss of the murderous dreams of cowardly lechers chained in idiot warehouses where black sausages,

CROSS

WINDY

REGIONS-

THE

REMEMB ER

ED TEETH

LIKE SHOT-

this is a long list of good poems. 1. green dogs run naked through the empty hull of a black robot camera skull,(nylon, of course). the dog with a patch on his eye says to the dog who wears a pair of strapped on night goggles, this is a good place to sleep. it will bring our clan a good dream if we sleep here. the tele-optimum relic-like quality of the place brings to mind gus the flabberghastly robot sex-god who said that the biggest telescope always gets the girl with the biggest black hole.

2. i can't get laid in this personality. it fits me like a pair of toughskins genes fum seers and roebucks me off everytime. my idea was to back up my stupidity with enough intellectual firepower to install davy crocket as the closest thing to mark twain this side of the twin metropolises' of can and able. and besides i so lazy in my mouth that i see blood running down

those girlses

ears.

3. this is the stew bone i've been looking for all day. i wish with all my heart i was a big dog on a hot summer day running down colguit street with a three pound catfish head in my mouth. just gonna hide the damn thing somewhere down here its to damn ugly to look at. i mean jesus this is a long stretch i'm doin right now its not the building but where i haven't been thats cramping me up along in here. could be a social adjustment i'm looking for whatever the hell that means.

4. the stupid fish is left to the neighbor's down the street gave them that green bone, what they did with it is no business of mine. solong bobby raindeer, this dogs hoppin with a cracked leg all night long. candy shop mornin' ...yeah right california 1976 with a ford thunderbird and a bb gun painted black by a girl named ed. ed. ed. ed. im through honey you can go have your big private life again. same time same channel. duck slip, fuck

that.

The clean invisible Cleese walks like Spock through the future of an illusion and into your town. You may learn from him. Sheep performing in silence. I however enjoy the occasional Sub-Mariner comic book with my face hangs out the window becoming a bologne and sprout on whole wheat. Shutup bitch I'm a goddamn policeman. Doing photographs of strange bits of plexiglass and plastic emulsion bottles is not alchemy, heavens no. Children now play with the great thoughts of our forefathers. The analytical laboratory, I'm sorry he said, so am I, and I pulled the sabre from his groin. John Lee Hooker plays "Cold Chills" to an audience of hairy ice blue grandfather clocks with paul Goodman's face everyone of 'em. And no fingers to snap with, just hands that tell the time. And Sextus Propertious arrives on a horse brush hovercraft and yells: CHECK INTO THE HOTEL OF TRANSCENDENT ABSURDITY, MOTHERFUCKER! THIS IS A HAT CHECK! Lysol rockets erupt from his crown and spray the crowd of onlookers who sheer meanness is likened unto the beauty Loki felt when dark victory was at hand. Jean Cocteau smoke spirits haul ass from holy boxes trailing dribbling white hoses and spewing narcotic gasses from complex tubular constructions looks like pipe-organ chest-nitre accretions. A big dumb yank steps up and yell: Sally Mae always gonna run round. Check into that hotel, eternal cuckold, 400 years of dripping faucet played over the loudspeaker, house rent boogie. Don't confront me: I'll sautee' your socks and tatoo your eyelids with kisses while struggling to skateboard on the moon. Consciousness, kinda like the buzz that never wore off. Somebody stole my Antonin Artaud book. Four green Sobatino Moscati chickens giggle. Smoking in the musicians fraternity house: Put that thing out you jive ass nicotene freak. Excuse me, I'll chew tobacky instead and still not spit everywhere. I'm a hick gif-surfing dumb wiseman kiss-ass-fuck it all blows sevenths to eleven in my Blue Jungle, Les Baxter, dig it, It starts in mellow saunter goes into absurd post-erotic mystery thriller television theme sounds , the kind of stuff "Cannon" listened to, kind of Las Vegas Strip Teasish now tightening

PRESIDENT

TRADING

WORD

IMMOLATIO

NFOR

TEKNE¹

against the invasion and the assaults of evil doers." Wisdom entereth not into a maliscious mind: Suspect the abuses of the world!
 
 

Edward Steichen...
 
 

Edward Steichen riding stegosaurus, photographing WWII newsreel cannisters atop Mount Saint Elias while suffering from lumpy jaw is struck by the beauty of a natural rock lunette whose rondure instills in him acute sitomania and he skedaddles for the nearest eatery in search of Raja Stabuliforis, his favorite gastronomical delight. On the way down the mountain he is attacked by King Solomon wearing a Sombrero reciting a Hebrew war sonnet.. Son-in-law, he screams you have killed my daughter with poison after photographing her 1000 naked and erotic somniloquys and publishing them in various psychological journals and now you shall perish. Steichen is spell-bound. King Solomon riding a sphinx aims a sphragistic ring at Steichen and turns him into a statue of Sphalerite sublime mortification utter vengeful sphacelation. King Solomon is quite squiffy, and in a blast of thrips he vanishes. From behind a thicket of thickleaf Theseus emerges to secure the Sphalerite Steichen for his museum of photography in the old quarter of New Orleans. Thrasonically, he loads the statue on board his red mandolin zeppelin and laughing, departs for Voudoo city New Orleans...
 
 

Our world is strange.
 
 

Angry Samoans bathe in the river below. Their divine bathing bellows attract luminous soothing lobsters from a cloud of vaporous Vichyssoise floating nearby. Victor Emmanuelle I dressed in synthetic Unijugata enters their minds in a prophetic vision. His unguiculate hands carress a black striped Tarsier. Velvet robes undulating, serene royal blue, black boots, red velvet tarboosh, torso covered in snow white tarantula lace, trousers fashioned of remora skin and a living Boa constrictor belt that

What language wants- language gets! -semantaraybeamgirderconstruction- destruction. The young witch annoints herself for flight. Her jaguar 12 cylinder- the rumble of the engine in the heretical ear- two thousand feet- 45 lbs. 89 me cure chrome certification modality- open black hands on the general's throat- blue glass whale full of red port wine- on which ride the seven somnamballistic acrid aggrobats -telepathetic circus performers with electromagnetic ankle bracelets- the vibratory antennae- on-line telepresence- hallucination amplifiers are in place- recorded in liquid these visions tempt even the most stoic and austere prologomenas- poured into the perceptual nodes they decode the mechanical pons of the train junction sector-pan-infinite goes sorting his- the rose unfolds- white hot polynesian convolution emission omniscience in the subject object foreplay- in the weeks ahead the breast swell with milk- WOMBA! floating mobius of jewell'd snakes cascade round illusion gestures of Kali. THE COPPER SUN COIN WAS FOUND IN THE POISONED POET MOUTH.
 
 

Aubrey beards me.
 
 

In a little grove, a little grove walled in with bricks, glass bricks distort the olive trees to pedestrians who pass on the sidewalk beyond, heading for unknown destinations, destinations foreign odd misshapen orgiastic occultic frenzied sly and gentle. The grove is owned by a little old woman. She was once a great dancer in the Vienna sector. Her legs were broken by the violent rage of her lover. 0 violent rage that breaks legs. 0 ruint dancing career. The olive grove is a bird sanctuary. The old woman is a statue in that grove. Her story was a dream in the mind of a boy who slept there with no shoes. The boy had never owned a pair of shoes. His feet were tough as leather. His toenails, long, unclean. His thoughts, long, unclean. His penis, long, unclean. His mother birthed him in a room of black violins, red roosters, moldy green wine glasses in the flickering

never be wiped clean." It was at this time that Strasser called for the heads of those who signed the Young plan. Noticiero. Boonswaggle give a fuck? Shit-smeared krauts face down in a pick-up truck, ugly bone stupid hicks sodomizing Mozart's blood-line. After a Silence, the King rocks Tech-gnosis, intoning, "OBRIGKEIT, OBRIGKEIT, OBRIGKEIT, OBRIGKEIT, REMEMBER PRINCE KRAPOTKIN, PRINCE BAKUNIN, PRINCE PINERO, PRINCE LEDOUX, PRINCE FULLER, PRINCE PACIOLI, PRINCE NEZ, THE VICTORIA PRINCIPLE, PRINCE OF TIDES, PRINCE OF DARKNESS, PRINCE OF THIEVES, PRINCE KUROSAWA, PRINCE KEN RUSSELL, PRINCE PALE EYE

TEETH." The monarchistic tradition is precisely change and reinvention, each act of the will becoming monarchistically a fragment of eternity in an immortal structure. [AMBER WASPS CRAWL ABOUT THE LIPS OF THE KING AS HE SPEAKS CLINGING SWARMING CLUTCHING HIS MUSTACHE AND C ARD STEAM ~

of solleed golden cowboy boots with oil bubblin out the top. Folly me now, don't soil yer foot cuv-rins', that theres sin-theetick earl but it still stains let mee tell yoo, boy I swear by the hair on my chinny chinny chin chin all and sundry D-turgents will not loose that pernicious gritty scum. Sum say alcohol, but alcohol dont eeeven put a dent mit. The bess thang t'do I would think is to burn em in a fern-ace, in-sin-er-ate-her, campfire or with a blow torch. Now speakin of blowtorches were fixin ta meet this fella, now he's a......
 
 

Gentlemen in silk pyjamas and silk top hats do soft-shoe in luxury prison, tap scuffling to piped in lounge piano. Elegant female guards, all blondes blue eyes saunter by the cells in bleached white tight-fitting deerskin Chamois uniforms with holstered white-haired revolvers and candy-cane billy clubs. With black lipsticked mouths they whisper Shakespearian sonnets, while above in the chandiliered atriums mirrored disko-baals rotate floating free independent revolving like planets around starkrome suns. Tuxedoed trustees languidly sweep the plex-tile vid-floor on electro-rollerskates, smoking Cuban cigars. Guards in Las Vegas showgirl costumes serve Russian caviar to satiated high luxury high security Intelligentsian Inmates, who pause from their memoir writing stupors to relax a bit more. Champagne is served at a birthday party in cellblock A-4. Inmates toast their fellow colleagues, mostly economists and political scientists over a meal of roast duck and brandy cake. Authurian Whale-E polishes his platinum shackles and dreams of translating ancient chinese folklore in English. Aluminum Caponey smokes hashish with Baby-Head Full-Nelson from a green statue of Liberty hubble-bubble hooka-chiecha-pipe. The spikes of her crown are the smoking tubes and her mouth is the bowl. There's a hole in her big toe that serves as a carburator. Laughing, they watch Wonder Woman re-runs on a large screen T.V. that hovers in the air framed in bronzed machine-gun parts. Down the bloc Ed Gem and Henry Lee Lucas play darts dressed as characters from the

diversity through identity, identity through diversity. Species versus individual. Wed to the weasle with a word in a hatbox the storm is full fledged and a cut-rate meat-pox. Torsion is central pylon. Unlimited expansion. Is it possible to estimate an order of magnitude, or limits? "The elders present a certain number of objects to the neophytes. This constitutes a sort of Lexy Lexy con con the con goes down the wise men giggle the dead men frown all around the coffin dancing warlocks dribble reindeer dance ribbity pibble hoppity hoppity gases on fire the trident glistens the oil lamps tire symbols slim bowls dripping red in the clay and the diff-possib-mods the staggering stuttering ogre knows he carries a solemn green monkey on his back winking and farting and yielding no slack the wedding cake shatters the guests go awry the skirts of the women ignite and catch fire skulls plop in the punch bowl the old mare is dead the groom is a mortician escaping by sled dogs run pellmell across the common eider backed loons swooning generals caught like flies in gramma' 5 spider loom. "You sing, them are in dictated, Poro-logos, don't be tryin to cum up wit no clan name logic. IMAGE AND LEXICON. I mage unlex I con. I dios and images gramma and lodge ich. ~ seven questions poised in a line a whispering demon an inkwell's decline ports of call on a cartographer's list I've seen the Captain, he's big and he's pissed...
 
 

Prince Levi-Strausses and Jeff Kelly Viking robots drinking Wu-fan (sweet black wine) discuss the five-aces fallacy and play chess in underwater question-mark balloon houses that float to the surface of an ocean of the rhetorical melted moot-mud of Warlike deeds. Let's all get drunk and discuss Communism. Fen-chiu is good with baked fish of the flounder family or giant Amazonia catfish. Detotalization, retotalization takes place on a diachronic plane. Yellow Shao Hsing resembles a dry sherry and fills up foot-prints leading into outerspace, then sucked back into dismembered foreground. Kan pei! Simultaneity of a

as if there were a swarm of tiny black insects, somewhere between maggots and centipedes.

¶ Inside the room I see the woman drop the sheet and her tentacles flare up and reach for the groin of the man. I hear him scream with grin-wide pain and plop-₂¹squeezey ectstasy+, as the black door slides shiney bright abruptly shut, moving fast with a quick hiss and a whizzy dull click. muffled laughing and insane blur singing commence, I continue on, down the shifty smirk corridor, and into the inky whatcha callit blackness. It smells of eastern blisty seaports. I hear clanging bells and the movement of a grigglin' shoreline. Far in the shock-put distance out on the hprizon I can see a nasal to grip green light, like an old fashioned hush-fucker lantern, from the prow of a slop bobb junk-boat.

¶ Yes, I can see. I have come out of a huge wooden clink-me object, that looks like the wreckage of an ancient viking longhouse or some such thing. I am on a dock that white crosses a narrow channel and enters smoot another undiscernible structure on the far of 'thodical side. Out in the sheen-smart bay, it appear~ there is a huge glowing red junk-ship with an enormous black sail emblazoned with a giant green hand. Suddenly there are fireworks in the sky, and it is as if there were a thousand people all around me. It is a time hundreds of years ago at some celebration.

¶ There are incredible stilted knights who stand in vibrant flexing armor, fifteen foot tall. They wear olden looking tanks on their backs, reminiscent of modern scuba gear, but they are brass, with oddly designed insignia, thin and not altogether perfect in their shaping. They are connected by polished metallic tubing to the bizarre flaming helmets. Utilizing the model of a collander, the flameable gasses are sprayed through hundreds of tiny holes, atomizing the gas. When they are lit, they light up into fabulous walking beacons. There are naked girls falling from the heavens gracefully gliding into the shallow waters off the beach, dangling, and laughing, hanging from giant umbrellas, into the jouncing dancing throng of wild glee which

breathing lithe all wide open breathless lewd breasts spitting dangerous wines and wicked delights for piles of masturbating children let all twisting mirrors unite in parades of unholy grandeur great black balls falling from perilous cliff-top temples ruled by bloody faced baboons wearing neon green fezzes screaming through microphones onto a field afire with human orgy an orgy on the daffodils giant golden poppies lifted with a cackle by the toothless hags of Bahawalpur let the ganges flood dear lord let all the leaping beggars and holy men rally in divine laughter sending chills of jealousy through the affluent mold of all real world contempt whose shadow meal shall not pass here Jauhur let all bewebbed in the golden mean of stark rich beauties of the chocolated soul savoring moment of always NOW! Let the Hakim be welcomed into my home by boys and wine and curly sandals and gifts of wagging tongues and sticky red girl kisses...

city now resembled a holy bedsore fraught with messianic

schitzophreneticivic disembowellment procedures... Example:

giant ziggurat of glowing bones swarming with invisible human gargoyles arose overnight...as well as A giant blue Mosque of molten glass filled with choruses of solar dervishes spinning in fission-zikr-space... In the end a plaque was erected at the city limits that said cryptically: She who was wrought with hands of iron may sit at the throne. He who discovers secrets in painted skulls is made pale by the sun....
 
 

Woven Yak-hair tents are erected in the valley of the

snow-leopards. Prayer flags flapping are erected at the peaks.

There is no incense to chase the demons away only smoldering

Yak-dung.
 
 

Demons dance in the hills, forked tongues, green plumed beebird-centipede-monkeys with electroplated owl-claw necklaces.
 
 

Human skulls are laid out on the fine black phonolite sands in the image of a three-headed dragon balancing on a sphere; a representation of an ancient machine, the original mutation device responsible for the race of demons that roamed the nether regions of the dead fucked-up planet.
 
 

Mazzini watered his revolution rose, the blue black convoluted brain bloom of his gypsy mother's dream of world domination. The clear liquid soaked the peat, the necessary nutrient of it visual speach, the root medium, the base, the transparent earth-egg-eye of birth. Mazzini' 5 cancer was gone. He had now become Paul Bunyan, Pecos Bill, Prince Peter of Croatia, a wereboar. He became a bluebearded icelandic Saint with sandals of ice, and a voice like bull-wolves.
 
 

Blue wolves gather at the empty river throne of Paul Bunyan Bill Mazzini to howl at the lotus fiber replicas of man that guard the sphere of transformation lost in the red river, the

arabic words, french words, german, words formed of dead sea languages, turkish, greek, spanish, words of warm thick air, words smelling of tangerine, mango, kiwi, chirps, giggles and farts, undersea cicadas clicking, words floating to the surface over underwater Paris, modulated dolphin broadcasts, whale radio, mermen sonnets squirming in living books written with inks of sticky microbes, straining to leave their patterns, anchored down in sentences too long to read in an hour or a night. One mustn't miss the merhunchback of Notre Dame, his bells making slow sounds under the sea, too slow to hear.

I'll have a James Dean Martini, he said as he peeled the styicky red plastic package from around the fragrant pipe-shaped aromatic programmable mouth deodorizer and hung it in his mouth like a resplendent article of station, a totemic Epopterator of bull-dada symposiarch-fuschia-wisdom (wisdom is always fus9hia). As the synth-smoke incense poured from his equestrian nostrils in a whinnying blast of psycho-farmacological mystery he swilled the pink gelatinous medium in which the pin-head pink-boy's brain swam in, that feeble little brain experiencing more in a martini glass full of Bob's techno-jump-start mind-jelly than in his own soft-shell pinkoskull. If you look carefully inside his jacket one might see dozens of the lost souls clinging like scavengers to the belly of a whaleshark, and that's what Bob is, he's our whaleshark and we must clean the parasites and pink-boy food particles from the unholy rows of craggy vibrating teeth and the divine slackifexcess that leaks continually from multiple ululating neo-anal vulvalves, the endpoints of interrogative ridiculophagic physiology, unguiculate tube-worms, tongue-foot teleprompter antennae. I am the Rama noodle, I am

the swami 0' swanky the noh-yawniferous gamma-mammu-RA

yaya-yameister of twisting amoebic sarcastrophic ocean of living BB's. Slowly, one realizes that the African continent is becoming a very large T-bone steak dancing in the center of a ring of white-skinned flapper girls wearing mushmouth cartoon masks over grinning epicene colonial faces, slinky sequined dresses, linked hand in hand forming a daisy chain of absurdity and anachronism merging in an orgy of transformative disco-neurosis. Once again, It is the era of the white hunter: there are numb dumb nations to be conquered and poisons and secret curses to be shipped clandestinely into the rotting plot analog of the growth pattern of the collective "west". Voodoo has never been more marketable, and "apocalypse" itself is the fastest growing hobby of the young male-noir-nair-doo-well intellectual. The rest of this inspirational outgrowth was lost due to computer complications. I believe this section relates method of

this in absolute human only the (King Solipsis, the tyrant-monster has transformed) is forlorness evolved has evolution where is strife but, (his characteristic emotions become a tool) evolve to struggle human the fuels that dream (a power of fortitude) pipe the is this. Earth whole thee (for the heroic will of the redeemer) four contentment organic Utopia, (The cultural boon bringer must gorge again to clarify the dificulties) Earth on Paradise? Question simple a too (and then retreat into the womb of sleep to achieve VIVEKA discrimination and arise with the mythic solution) answer simple A. Strife and turmoil to addiction(directly valid for all mankind) the by obfuscated mysteries simple (Identify and research specific perceptions) and ancient the reveal to (and associations of intuitive mythic process of development to dispell difficulties)science pleasure A. Technology and Ecstasy.(Simplification of influence) Revelry AAAAAAAAAAA. ARE WE THINK WE WHAT THAN MORE BE TO. more design to. more discover to.(HE IS LAUGH) less believe to. more know to. more say to. more do to. more see to. Hunger for thirst unquenchable insatiable our sustains comfort trembling black thy vice beloved

0. Awareness (He is laugh) feeble and vast our of stains generative the ruin human our resemble to designed unfinished novel satyr bleeding culture crumbling of analysis vulgar fragmentary solipsis epic pseudo 0. Petronious American handed whiskey headed tobacco thee from spit Satyr bleeding thee, whipmarks thousand A with Hero Thee....
 
 
 
 

Dream On; carbolic drive-in movie bikini islanders, hula adventure to become loss of (goin' gettin' snippin' slappin' flappin' flippin' sippin' suppin' groomin' boomin' loonin' tunin' tannin' fannin' blowin' sewin' bemoanin' and groanin' to boot. With a one course ear-jolly dirty mytho-folly danglin' dice on the rearveiw mirror of the parthenon with Cairo's temple lights tinklin' glidin' sphinxes with Fezes and double pyramid shock treatment behind me.. Be the Insan al Kamel full of

Setting: A theatre, a mirrored bust-building in the

three-dimensional likeness of the culturally stylized Shakespeare, a smiling, balding bard, fiber-cable "hair" catching the wind a bit, Orangutans swinging gleefully from his beard, birds nesting in his ears, legions of spectral snails leaving phosphorescent trails across the wide expanse of his brow. The eyes blink. There is a subtle smile. He watches the crowd arrive in their funky little decorative skiffs, their riverboats and speeders, their biologic skim-craft. They approach his island and he welcomes them all. Inside, a new Tech-gnosian production is beginning. The liquid curtain is pulled closed and a barrage of slide projections translate around over and through one another while Kurt Weill's Alabama Song plays awhile. A light drizzle whips through the auditorium, raining quietly on the umbrella equipped audience. Birds fly out from the orchestra pit. Dogs begin barking behind the curtains, backstage. Loud recorded thunder. Soldiers of many eras walk around in the aisles, ghostly holograms firing blanks at the audience members. Five minutes this goes on, then silence-blackness. Muffled dog squeals. The liquid curtains turn transparent then slowly turn to steam and go up. Two great white horses are fucking on stage and ancient Celluloid type films are being projected onto their bodies, animated Aubrey Beardsley cartoons, Little Egypt doing the Hoochie koochie, trains and old timey road race scenes, Mexican chicken fights, and blurry half-melted stills of Goya-esque war scenes, old video footage of the Sex Pistols transferred back to film, fluttering book pages, home movies of the Capones, a risque wild west show with nude cowgirls jumping through spinning lariats, and hundreds of eyes. Behind the sexual miasma of the copulating horses is a wall of caged dogs, all-barking, and back-lit. Soon, every audience member will receive an exquisite hors d'oeuvre (every single one is different) from naked men and women painted white wearing white horse heads with crowns of live snakes that sometimes fall off onto the audience members exploding into confetti. The horses

charlie--demand that the Aeon-- visualization techniques-- have failed to learn the secrets--war with the planet--Nationalist people prurient protean priestess---PoloHuxley coelocanths of the Will-mind the nameless aeon coophaunt us in the Nile water delta--Yeheshuah-- in the Toilet onwards of drizzling flesh the quiet wards paper Nightmare collage to the EnochiCannes film removed to Aeon named warpj-- visit our temple--any name of any body alive or dead can or will knot be told to rotten below the equatorial-Hod-- tolerate my desire to formicatto the underwear band radiating to the clitoris defined the spherical Mohammed swords drawn in the scoptic ill Allah Killers disembar DO LOVE WILL LAW malkuth-- S'kufic wave frequency unknown--Assiah Tv veiwing parade the Austin massacre--John Philip Sousa-Netzachary to you bly be--new form Susan B. Anthony Burgess creepy face novels for the Aldous Huxley coelocanths of the Will-mind the nameless aeon Hodulate delta cave in to afterburn birth coop to Briah Mama darrel Gates left the shimmering approach field teeth in the misery toad bush shivering to death scatter negatives in approach to a definitive account of horny velvet caped boys arriving to boring in unison said power structure alls awesome the mirror odd self choate sem ne hed moss vampires to the rad pike stilleto staven of injections came crawling to the sound source--must inevitably be--new form of society crawling for your---N'aton has a purpose in communication with the bereaved first wrought in the lab made fish -coop to Briah Mama--union actuate caviar Dick--potential futures are here arrived at Aqui-- is --- Bueno onwards of drizzling flesh the quiet wards of Solemn

-men---reversal pun- wruned me over the-- current Ma'at Touloose--anything world of action. No-stick firing action.

scars of paranoid-ape-mg the cutoff word Ithe cypress was sacred to hercules, yet still we have overrun the world, Mr. Quatrefoges./ suture rape the fare horsed minions decode /"Like owls serious unto eternity" Khafaje's bards secrete their wisdom in hollow steel bullheads frosted with cesiumi decode maximize lose deface understate inside /white angelic monkeys each bearing the twisted angry mask of Lautreamont alite next to said bull bowls and excrete beetle filled toads in oozing riddling piles that resemble tortured human facesi return to fields of youth open filthy rotten doors open ading grass of death intern

poisoned delight, the vidtim's~Ya'st~~ii~ befor ~ is passed af(take the terrible ~ to the head, the point of departure in a(jump through the weeds at the end of the alley and into your new body logic) schematic desire to enpolyp the body of the afortiori affusion of biologic directives. Cast affray the son(drink forward in time)nnets of wisdom while drinking books and breathing law. A canalization plan in the canard region, canal rays, canaliculus architechure of mind Mind MInd MIN mi MIND IS CRIMPED OFF UNLEASH MY MIND bone bagatelle of political heresy and balalaika playing Avesta scribes.... relious AWOL

fingers over the braillic glyphs of an ancient civilisation of blind cave dwellers whose final epitaph leaves a bitter taste of sweet mourning those crazy ancient days of eternal darkness and damp quickening distrust a crust of nostalgia gnawing feverishly away on my stomach lining pulleys block tackle wenchmen henchmen heaving ho on the great white whale painting triple ringed emblems in a rugged delirium of toil and violent lust upon its vast aquatic canvas plunging frictionless approximations of destiny's astrolabe into the vagina dentata of the new world political platforms lifted high on the backs of technological Shedus while the intricate details of every world's simple tragedy seems as a quotidian reminder of continual rotation the spark gap deciphered is a giver of the momentary bridge the temporal window a blinking joiner the beyonder lives in a magnetic egg lisping in its cosmic wobble distance conceived as guilt Gillel lay upon a slab of frozen blood admiring the slithering ceiling of confused reptilian abandon world so smooth world so rough syllabic propulsion through inner/outer space I live in a mighty letter R a colonial polyp a free swimming medusae with robotic grappling devices wresting broken down female wart hogs spirits of forgotten crowns worn by gorillabuzzards sad concoctions of the Shit King floppy lights in the arctic sky feasting on Tech-Gnosian gargling in the sun-warmed garbage of truth there is no flow in the baffled glow worm wilderness rats in rusted buckets recounting the secret geography of cyclopean crack marriages no dis Das Him friBt Staub Master Dub mix and there I was dancing an afflicted funk waltz with Mamie Van Doren to "Melancholy Serenade" by Hugo Winterhalter. Eddie and the Witch doctor were applauding me from leathern galleries whence came all mesomorphic ballerinas of the O.S.S. of leathern japanese dildoes. There were cabbages lined up in vast diagrams under the streets of Paris and life was a gay city a constabulary of fabulous bewitchings. Free Jazz reigned supreme as a cranky parody of the non-existent DADA culture whose brave moment on film had been lost at sea when the Kaiser's first metal sea demons reared their heads

idealists flail their arms in yuppie discotheques ravishing themselves in a solemn rage worshipping Wagner and their Scotch bottle monkey girls intoning: off to Crete, off to Crete. The young train engineer digs for the roots of heavy metal in the roundhouse, but finds accordion grease, Socrates and the destruction of the Dionysian chorus.
 
 

Silly miniatures in the fat fucking wilderness.
 
 

Happy ever after in the market place the children dance in the streets carrying lizards and musical instruments, their faces grimacing with joy, sweating ink, their footprints create pontificating musical perplexities, actual written music. Lucy Lucy, where are your sailors? They put the little boy in the corner. The teacher pulled his pants down and spanked his little heiney. Secretly he enjoyed it. He thought of the movement of stars. He thought of the bottomless lakes, the blackness, the fat fucking wilderness, grisly crushing inviting voluptuous indifferent. He thought: her paddle comforts me. The pain makes me real. The pain gives me the comfort the sun has, whatever that means. HAPPINESS IS A WARM GUN. The grim reaper carries a rubber clock in a tow sack. Buddhas in floral pattern taxicabs. Bridges covered in red praying mantises. A lake of barbie dolls, Let's ride across on a snow mobile singing: GO GO WHIPPY DOODLE ROY MAK TONE TWELVE WIGGLE ROOGIE GUSH SLUSH BIGGY WOO WOO LI LEE WU LI WOO LEE LEE WU BOO BOO SOLID SHIT.
 
 

Beyond the Darwinian Plaza.
 
 

The water floats up in the shapes of distorted animals from a pond surrounding the chrome bust of Darwin. Mechanically he blinks, his eyes, tiny screens, video monitors displaying vistas being gobbled up in the forward motion of the original camera, the accidental camera of time. A tree of neon grows from the top of his head glowing with electrified argon. Children gather round the pond to wonder at the magnificent liquid animals that
 
 
 
 

Have dream of the California floods. In the dream a teenage boy has been kept locked up in a dingy room actually filthy with a crazy old woman chained together with "dog" chain. The old moldy woman has a fine opalescent blue green patina and her face is a horrid tribal mask affair with a long blue nose that juts harshly to one side, deep lines, exaggerated like a tiki head, tiki head evil Kwakiutl grandma with black stringy hair, she speaks in a whispering chant a crazy rhythmic dream creole that is hypnotizing because it is the only voice the boy has ever heard. The boy is sleeping on a pile of old blankets like a dog when all of a sudden the wall of the house breaks open and water starts pouring in. the boy in a wild frenzy begins to whimper and cry and jumps up pulling the frail stiff wooden grandma-fetish thing through the hole in the wall out into a hurricane night full of wetness and police sirens and strange 1930's Grapes of wrath disaster refugees. There is an image of a young strong boy with dirty saggy-bottomed diapers pulling the horrid wooden grandma thing through the muddy mahem. he's screaming at the people pointing at the burden and trying to wrench the chain from around his neck. He keeps hearing her whispering talk, but it is prerecorded and the water fouls the mechanism. he breaks the chain and goes running screaming into the chaos of the flood scene barking like a dog at the moon ripping off his soiled diapers in the moonlight and police sirens.... later after a strange drinking party peopled with people from my remote wichita falls junior high days the flood has been domesticated and turned into some kind of amusement ride where you ride down an indoor mountain on a river flume which then beomes a sort of triathalon with roller bladers doing indoor downhill skiing on a soft rubberized motocross type terrain... at the end I am waiting in a line to leave waiting for my wife but looking at all the girls in bathing suits in line, their mouths seem incredibly sexy, full pouting lips, tight bathing suits dripping on the floor, rollerblades,

philosophers, male and female had agreed to unify in this experiment, originally, the male and female quotients of experience, culturally, and biologically. After a trial period, the insanity began. [Here he chooses to employ an axiom to give the shapeless material a sort of plot twist, one might say unsuccessfully.] The hermaphroditic world nexus-matrix, or congress, was placed in the moon. The population began to revolt, and call for two matrix beings, male and female. Thus the shopping mine was constructed to house the entire female being of earth (Techgnosis). [He does not really give us any details about how this grand architechural? development was to be realized. One can also sense his "fascist" axiomatic expressed, when he talks of "the whole of female being" being housed, he says, essentially, in one place, but he is saved by another concept, that of this development being a scientific-political experiment, raised up democratically in a world ruled by philosophers, interesting.] Thus, the archetypical masks of the 20th century man and woman began to show themselves. The king became a king, and the shopping mine, a perpetually pregnant "whore", satisfying every dream as capacities dictate. [His language here has lapsed completely into a sexist format. One cannot tell if this is the result from the experiential gestalt, or if it is an attempt to express something more basic in the culture at large. This is certainly not scientific language. It may be instructive to determine the edges of his neurotic nomenclature, and discription.] The King, a multiplicitous poet warrior, lover, and increasingly, an addict of the all, and the potentiality of pleasures, and energy, locked within. He began to calculate the amount of available matter in the solar system, so that he might build a body out of the cosmos, and give earth to the women to make this a proper marriage, a marriage of two worlds, male matrix being, female matrix being, floating naked in eternity, separated from culture and all simple languages. No more plays about the "ridiculous man", the Oedipus complex, the decline of the west, the class struggle, the origin of the specie. Down with disunified multiplicity! Long live