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Tuesday, July 12, 2011

Therefore

on the bright side of the bus
she was alone and cold
worried and stoned
laid bare to public transport
though i only understand her exposure months later
when the narrative closed unceremoniously,
as will the pool in autumn. she died
and i was alive-
a reader with a username

i knew i recognized her dimples and sweaty black bangs-
our buses used to go to the same summer camp, back where
the secret power of affected naivete was yet undiscovered
and every morning was filled with thrilling discipline
and bandy-legged intrigue

the girls from morning round-up who once held so much mystique
are now married, or pregnant, or both
running into them in random places of commerce
there is confusion, and i feel like i am trying to bridge a large distance,
speaking about the events and circumstances of life
with rock patterns and smoke signals
while all around, in The Cloud, web handles and networks collide and co-mingle,
and handheld devices and the all-too human multi-task one another into orgasm and sleep
the past is a question of pixels and storage capacity and instantly loaded rationalizations
and with this thought I got off the bus

now these thoughts float darkly in bubbles above former selves
before sleep she reappears on an PPT slideshow beyond closed eyelids
and is absorbed in the facile warp and weave of
memory's cheap embroidery

was this a foregone conclusion?
must we bring a cold 'therefore' to every small town newspaper death?
burning silent judgment and a thousand dead words of sympathy?
it seems a shameful and cheap ritual

maybe there was a time when
i would have believed in a
mathematical proof for virtue
or in the verities of other people
but growing older can make you suspicious
and possibly republican
certain things sound suspicious
‘good intentions’ ring hollow and ominous
and so one turns inward
while salesman and cult leaders
get a platform for talking coherent systems
full ranges and completions for things incomplete

for everyone else, it's no secret
new planets will appear in the sky
new dinosaurs will be pulled from the ground
wholeness longs for absence,
voice demands no voice,
stagecraft helps itself
and progress, Stalin-esque, steps forward
safely above the droppings of our samsara drift

history eats itself, hero by hero
with the reader in charge, complicit to plot
who now sits in the yard on a wicker settee, under a clear moon,
and memory a killing field of poignant, static victims

and with them we are vicariously alive
and with them we get stoned
and time after time
run out to catch the bus
without a warm coat


--bo knutson

Fear of Shiva






2 fɑ$t t0 think 0ncE ɑnd f0r ɑll,,

my Enterprize 0ut$tripped thE limitz 0f itz mɑnɑgement.

I hɑve ɑ pr0blem hɑz n0 $0luti0n,,

bur$ting like ɑlwɑy$ but thE w0rd$ ɑrE ju$t 

₪™Ѿɑ&$Ԅ drt2..ؕ.. …….. 


Let mE $educe U like ɑ newzcɑ$ter w/XXX0tic ɑxidentz ɑnd nɑturɑl dizɑ$terz:

1 fɑce 1 m0rning ɑnd thE wh0le cɑrnivɑl i$ g0ing ɑpe$hit ɑt y0ur d00r.

Wɑr breɑk$ di$hez ɑnd thE vi0let lightz g0 d0wn$trEɑm.


ɑfricɑn$ in di$tre$$. T0uri$t$ p0$ing with Mickey ɑgɑin ɑnd thE Hɑmburger mɑn
under ɑ mu$hr00m m00n.
 
Denni$ LEɑry iz tɑlkin t0ugh ɑb0ut m0t0r 0il.

Trɑde i$$uez d0minɑte di$cu$$i0nz.

ThE TrEE 0f Liberty dr0pz phɑt fruit$ tɑ$ting 0f leɑther ɑnd bl00d. 

Blinded by thE hind$ight 0r 4th0ught f0lly,,

fruit in thE vɑ$e pre$$ed t0
putre$cence by grɑvityz bruize 

($hE mɑle tɑking 0ff drE$$),,     
                                                                                                                              

 

I cɑn fEEl the dezert rEgi0n$ 0f the 
hipp0cɑmpu$ 
$prEɑding 0ut like ɑlzheimerz hɑnd$ 
0n ɑ ph0t0 ɑlbum 0f f0rg0tten fɑcEz,,

and wonder what rules am I following?
 
$et t0 nɑvigɑte ill-fɑted blɑ$t0ff$ 
D$igned t0 $m0ke$crEEn the nɑti0nɑl bɑt$hit 
inked 0ut in thE ledgerz 0f w000rldwiiide 
c0rpirɑtE 
bɑ$ebɑll;
W0rldc0m t0 thE left 0f mE, Αlc0α t0 thE right. 
Put thE inju$ti$$ in ju$ti$$ αnd rEnɑme thE $edɑtivEz 1 × 1 in thE Ferrɑri-red hi$tɑminE hɑze.

C0ngrɑt$. I hαve ɑchiEvEd thE prEc0nditi0n$ f0r m0bility.



Whαt αn XXXi$tence!! Impαlα bαrc0dE. Mαgnu$ D0llαr. 
I w0n’t wɑke up t0 thE 
                                           xfɑf!@$(0)T 
0f Vict0ry with0ut prE$cribing ɑ different kind 0f 
                                           T)0($@!fɑfx; 
ɑ fEtɑl g0b tɑking f0rm right n0w; 
incubɑting in thE 0viduct 
0f mid-July, 
plɑ$tic $hEEt$,, 37° C,, 8 pm G$T,, 
dem0crɑtic in$tinct$ 0pti0nɑl,, 
αn0ther bEing in thE hilαri0u$ pαin 0f cαmpαign EtErnitiE$,, 


fruitful α$ fl0wer$ peddling $ex in thE mEdiαn $trαnd.


But I ɑm ɑlrEɑdy upp t0 my EyE$ in p0$tErity

ɑnd tired 0f ɑgrEEing w/αn Enemy 
I mu$t c0mpr0mizE w/bαckwαrdz.

I givE my$elf t0 thin blu $unz 
w/ ɑ glɑncing under$tɑnding 
0f whɑt it mEɑnz.

T0 grEEt thE dɑwn w/Humminghɑrt, 
thE city hɑlf empty 0f RiE$ling,, 
bɑked by thE $cαthing ????$ 0f thE vitαmin D/$kin cαncer mαchinE

αnd privvvy t0 thE brɑnd-new di$ɑpp0intmntz:

W0mɑn-fukking-Cɑdillɑc
Lα Pαlmα$ 0ut there wɑiting I Dny
Blɑckne$$ blαck ɑ$ thE $teɑlth fightEr. Blɑck ɑ$ thE $eɑrz T0wer. Blɑck ɑ$ thE dαy wαntz t0 bE.


There$ 1 wɑy in ɑnd w0n wɑy 0ut$mɑrt thE pɑrɑmeter$.

Rec0gnize thE pil0tz f0r thE pirαtzE αnd tαke yur $ympt0m$ α$ α $ign 0f hEαlth,,

c0nfu$Ed ɑz 0ld mEn in fr0nt 0f fɑbric r0lEz ɑnd writing in thE $ky,,

thE W0rld α $erengeti Plαin 

αmbigu0u$ α$ t0ngue$ 0f wind,, α$ thE $pring i$ hαrdly $ilEnt $till hα$ n0thing t0 $αy.

I didn’t cαpitulαte. I ju$t g0t cru$hed.

By whαt we tαke be$t gue$$e$ αt 
t0gether to t0$$ hither. 



ThE $un turn$ pink, in E$tru$ f0r it$ αntihEr0e$.  
Thu$ thE My$tEry pαrcel$ Αll t0gether 
α$ a jig$ɑw filed unt0 $0lvɑti0n'$ in$ignificɑnce.  

(0h $hit, fig lEɑf cɑn’t c0ntɑin ElEphɑntiɑ$i$!). 

Li$ten y0u cɑn hEɑr thE $wEɑt$h0p$ 0rgɑnizE
Li$ten y0u cαn hEαr thE P0wEr c0untEr:

WE hɑvE A pr0blEm hɑz n0 $0luti0n.


I αm whαt I αm αnd n0t.
LikE l0verz twined int0 ɑl0hɑ$
while b0th EdEn$ burn.

T0m0rr0w. Ye$terdɑy.
MɑybE j0y iz in 0rder—wE’vE mɑdE it thi$ fɑr.  Fαrther thαn m0$t 0n thE du$t in thi$ $pace.


BLEEd big bEf0rE y0u g0.
Put 0n thE ɑir c0nditi0nEr ɑnd ɑ light $weɑter. Ye$ g0d, 0, 
ɑ 1000 timE$.

D0nE but w/Err0rz 0n pɑgE.


DECKED



File Download: http://armacost5.opendrive.com/files/54262156_7Ma7U_c641/Bureaucrat__-_11_-_Fear_of_Shiva(1).mp3

STRIPPED



File Download: http://armacost5.opendrive.com/files/54262123_Gl4z7_154e/fear%20of%20shiva%20stripped_12.mp3

Saturday, July 2, 2011

A Brief Relation of the Copier Room

--for st. exupery and dante

One day I heard the word Mozambique and the copier room dissolved around me, and there I was on a steamy beach in Africa. Tyrannosaurs, enormous bipedal caricatures of men, stalked mindlessly across the sites of future cities and went their slow way down into the dark of geologic time.

With what honour these gentlemen entreated me and how cheerfully they received me together with their ladies, it were a long story to tell. They seemed to belong to a loftier race, and might well have been regarded as the offspring of some divine adultery. They told themselves that history was calling to them for help and that somehow they must prepare a great crusade to liberate the past; swore they’d been imbued with molten matter, and were made of gold and descended straight from the sun.

That night they took me far, far away to the planet of the flowers: 

We come thy guides to the garden of bliss, thy seat prepared.  Let’s cruise.We make a great beauty devastated of everything but form and gait.

You know you want to ride my rocket ship baby, but first you gotta light the fuse. 

I can’t even claim I knew where I was headed when I climbed on board. But from my cradle upwards it has been my business, and almost my pastime, to deal with serpents and dragons.

As indomitable energy flawlessly directed into consummate stagecraft begets complete fruition, prismatic irises crossed and shattered each other in the air.

The magic of their craft opened for me a world in which I would confront, within two hours, the black dragons and the crowned crests of a coma of blue lightnings, and when the night had fallen I, delivered, read my course in the stars.
Astonishingly beautiful, technically advanced, and unbelievably rapid, it was a dream come true. I couldn't perceive, I couldn't plan, and I couldn't remember nothing. 


Below us the refinery was jeweled with lights like a Texas oil town. A unicorn, a rainbow-spitting zebra and what looked to be a horse sprouting a third eye were engaged in group sex. Settled on the slope of a mountain, they watched like lighthouse keepers beneath the stars, ever on the lookout to succor men. When they saw our sails, they cried out Aha, ha!  The sails of this travelling island are like clouds in the sky! What power could now prevent the fertility, the insensibility of nature?

This shocked me and completely destroyed my spiritual beliefs. Tell me master, tell me Sir, I asked, did ever any, by his own merit or by others' go out from hence that afterwards was blessed? 

And he to me as one experienced: You're some kind of weird gold that wants to stay melted so you won't have to become coins. As one who sits ashore and longs perchance to visit dolphin coral in deep seas. Here must all distrust be left; all cowardice must here be dead. There's nothing more than this: opal towers and battlements adorned with living sapphire. 

These may seem to the Reader but Golden Dreams, but we all have known flights when of a sudden each for himself, it has seemed to us that we have crossed the border of the world of reality--a revelation of a moment, a solitary note heard in a symphony thundering through debatable existences of time. 

Once it is raised, not only is it difficult to subdue such a world again, but anything that follows it is apt to prove an anticlimax.We both had a fatal power to multiply, the thought flashed on me, and the planet was not large. This is the wounded outcry of the human ego as it fails to discover its dominance among the beasts of the past.

 Their like had never been seen before--and until great starships take colonists by the thousands into the fathomless seas of space, we shall not see their like again. Farewell, I bid. There is an isle of rest for thee. And I am blown along a wandering wind.

 They found in the grog shops and whorehouses of Port Royal reward enough for the dangers of their trade.


They saluted to no one and were gone.

Elm's Beach


The beauty is making me sick

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

Sand and bay as they ever were
The graveyards, white crosses, erosion, the swans

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

Reeds in the rivulet, upturned oyster,
sulfur springs, blonde grain to the marsh
always returning not as it was

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

In a little nest a bird is gaping for the worm
A dead fish loafs upon the bank
a banquet on sea glass and weeds
fired with maggots the gulls must invade

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

When I want to be there I see grass
laced with pennies and shells,
the holly bush's basketry of roots
exposed where the sand abandoned it
to keel toward the tide

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

When I want to leave
I see the welt upon my wrist
and a bee now scrambling the sand,
listing from my swelling hand

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

In a little brook a frozen crab wastes away
In a little car I stop and pray
Let the bee find basil where he dies

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

For what it did, it had its reasons
For what I did I had my own

River run ● Rising sun ● Light turn ● Bee stun ● Day done

The symmetry is making me sick

Now the symmetry is making me run