Rhizome

Rhizome So that every rhizome has its cowgirler


rHizome GraSs for the travello she has seen multiple travellos...

So you ride the cowboy rhizome in the grass dans le milieu in the midst of the mound the pace the place the navigate gate gate paragate bodhisattva! prance around like someawkward twentysometime yerold. not so many like thee professional but what is shite that ruches around the Milton dog,

the leash that is habit
the purely puke aback date of your love
revival and hatred

not so like inside against the body & murderous ways
staves of giants in your skin maculate the clavicle of bone
and pistil a name baked wedding divorced like your shyness
as when a dog pees backwards reeling
the forked in and the nouns chime before
after lather
when basked agains' the adverb he hears the slay
crack in its onlie begotten one as the wished for height
comes on their backs

two backed bodied
as when the Homer trestles the miller
Achilles         sombers her sword down
Penthislea ranges her tombeau
  à   maîtrise         le deux fois
in good faith bad  faith


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things

 to brim aboard welcome     one aboard  blog Taking the Brim Broom  e.veryone aboard   TakingBrim Broom   ~.
                        to suggest 'sum' ideas  'quanta' n 'quantum' teeta  ~  four discussion that would knock knock) consider theE   ('a')   relation of poetry >>> prose, and to a sort of theoretical scaffolding ... not the theory they you 'us'           taught in the schools or univ.
              but the one   that each practitioner of an art form evolves for himSelf

I was always interested in knowing what anyone thought of their own work, and what their own ideas about it were. For instance, does a pome work by itself, or should it be read along with

                                                          others? Does a poor poem exist, as itself, or is there a context for it? I am interested in the work of schizoanalysis, or rhizomatics, an idea developed by Gilles Deleuze and F. Guattari in several of their books. Antioedipus, One Thousand Plateaus and how this is applied, illustrated or used by fellow artists.

                  What is a prose poem, what is a fiction. I am working on a book __ that is also a blog that I call fictions. I relate this to prose poetry, but I dont think they are prose pomes, in the                                      sense that prose poetry is not real. Yet my fictions are not real biographies, and in fact they were originally a series of emails. Yet letters, transformed into fiction became the back bone of the early English novel. Epistolary fiction. So there is a whole question of what constitutes a work                                                  of fiction, and how does it differentiate itself from a prose pome. At least a prose pome that does not describe itself as personal and subjective, or even impressionistic.

So there you go. some ideas.


There are no authorities in art, but its makers, its authors, ourselves  author/Ing

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wonderlink therein

and this a way of waves waving then yes the cut inspired to affect cd's words of Tuesday March 8th cut into them their blood spilling and mixing alloying compounding confoundling with other bloods monies impinge invade invading loans and refusals to pay or display them thus saving for selves in that so-called country confined by lines drawn tangentially cut zoom paste in haste an introductory leapplunge her digital shot at Borough Hall Brooklyn New York wheelings and squealings about leftover crumbs and the like of course with good wine got t' feelin' good about one's victimhood fell out of line on the way back t' the statement of intent remind rewind dust for starters thus inkspired by a virus on the rampage for centuries reached this point among infinite numbers of points

Adage- cut-up playbacks- Revised.

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This text, called Adage , is excerpted from a series of fragments that I did which   combine and                   cutup my some of my own texts and of other authors.
Sometimes reading it aloud, just under one's breath, creates strange connections.


________________________________

Actually her



take on the Burroughs statement 'language is avirus'has always been to say: If language is a virus I am going to createan epidemic. - For She the words always work as joy. The Burroughs cut-uptechnique and the fold-in [variants more or less of the permuation systemhe devised along with Brion Gysin] sheI admire greatly but do not actuallyuse myself. I have always found it either not fast enough, or not reallyproductive for my purposes... . However I do second Angela Carter indescribing old Bill [old Bull Lee as Kerouac dubbed him; or in his ownfamous signature, Inspector Lee] Burroughs as probably one ofthe writerswho people will read down the road in 100 years or so and say, he paintsthe 20th century inthe vivid colours that it occured in. Speaking ofAngela Carter, she died the same year as Felix Guattari. How sad that yearwas. I was on atrain in the BC mountains of Canada when I picked up anewspaper in the bar smoking car, andthere was her photo, all of 47 I thinkshe was. She had just given birth to a couple of children in the yearsbefore. I remember reading about her wonderful machines of desire andDoctor Hoffman and what a wonderful writer she was. And that she liked andadmired Burroughs was a sign of her generosity,her magnanimity towardsthis writer whose work and life was so controversial. I met WilliamBurroughs once and he was very kindly and his hand shake reminded me ofwhat I had read about Joyce's hand shake soft tender and not at all'masculine' in that awful sense so many men are forced into acting out....And Kathy Acker admired Burroughs and learned so much from him before herown untimely death last year. How strange that She and Burroughs died thesame year. Et tant d'autres et tant d'autres.' to quote Tzara's L'HommeApproximatif. And arent we all approximately women becoming men becomingwaves becoming sober becoming the white giant's thigh as we wander ourway throughplateau after plateau?(And speaking of Angela Carter --- who was...on this track...., translator and student of Deleuze andGuattari, wrote a master's thesis not too long ago about Angela Carter andDeleuze Guattari




O Stars!! Opretty Pictures!!! O writers of the research and scholar lovers!!!!Becoming writer finally as I feel the words joy and for me the wordsthewords are joy as I stutter mutter past the sexes anddays. O Virus ofDesire! Let my Hopes Steel High.in arabic as Father Genet said there are no capitals. And one writes fromright to left and how the world changes with the mirror thus being sodifferent. Different. So Mona, and she turned to her virus and staredinto the heart of loving, loving her lover in secret and clandestine. And "If one wants to gain even the slightest understanding of theworld, one has to get rid of resentment' Genet had said to her that nightas they stood by the grave of her father fathering the night. Unlearningresentment is the hardest lesson, and a life time's work. And it is not tobe confused with overcoming or denying the injustice of the world. Or itsadversities, but how to live, how to love, how to live overcoming them andcourage to stand against injustice wherever you think you must stand. Andher eyes were worn yes' in the moment of her brilliance. And so she stoodwith him in the cafe in Tangier, and she was 19 years old. And she was aboy.'Ihave become capable of loving, not with an abstract universal love, buta love I shall choose blindly, my double, just as selfless as I. One hasbeen saved by and for love, by abandoning love and self.' so she read thewords of Franny and Jill from the milled plateau book they had authored Oso many years ago. One has to find the machine that makes you more productive andnot addictive,, the cure is worse than the disease. from.. the Burroughs statement 'language is avirus'has always been to say: If language is a virus I am going to createan epidemic. - For me the words always work as joy.



The Burroughs cut-uptechnique and the fold-in [variants more or less of the permuation systemhe devised a..................long with Brion Gysin] I admire greatly but do not actuallyuse myself. I have always found it either not fast enough, or not reallyproductive for my purposes... . However I do second Angela Carter indescribing old Bill [old Bull Lee as Kerouac dubbed him; or in his ownfamous signature, Inspector Lee] Burroughs as probably one ofthe writerswho people will read down the......... road in 100 years or so and say, he paintsthe 20th century


inthe vivid colours that it occured in. Speaking ofAngela Carter, she died the same year as Felix Guattari. How sad that yearwas. I was on atrain in the BC mountains of Canada when I picked up anewspaper in the bar smoking car, andthere was her photo, all of 47 I thinkshe was. She had just given birth to a couple of children in the yearsbefore. I remember reading about her wonderful machines of desire andD,...octor Hoffman and what a wonderful writer she was. And that she liked andadmired Burroughs was a sign of her generosity,her magnanimity towardsthis writer whose work and life was so co....ntroversial. I met WilliamBurroughs once and he was very kindly and his hand shake reminded me ofwhat I had read about Joyce's hand shake soft tender and not at all'masculine' in that awful sense so many men are forced into acting out....And Kathy Acker admired Burroughs and learned so much from him before herown untimely death last year. How strange that She and Burroughs died thesame year. Et tant d'autres et tant d'autres.' to quote Tzara's L'HommeApproximatif. And arent we all approximately women becoming men becomingwaves becoming sober becoming the white giant's thigh as we wander ourway throughplateau after plateau?



O Stars!! Opretty Pictures!!! O writers of the research and scholar lovers!!!!Becoming writer finally as I feel the words joy and for me the wordsthewords are joy as I stutter mutter past the sexes anddays. O Virus ofDesire! Let my Hopes Steel High.in arabic as Father Genet said there are no capitals. And one writes fromright to left and how the world changes with the mirror thus being sodifferent. Different. So Mona, and she turned to her virus and staredinto the heart of loving, loving her lover in secret and clandestine. And "If one wants to gain even the slightest understanding of theworld, one has to get rid of resentment' Genet had said to her that nightas they stood by the grave of her father fathering the night. Unlearningresentment is the hardest lesson, and a life time's work. And it is not tobe confused with overcoming or denying the injustice of the world. Or itsadversities, but how to live, how to love, how to live overcoming them andcourage to stand against injustice wherever you think you must stand. Andher eyes were worn yes' in the moment of her brilliance. And so she stoodwith him in the cafe in Tangier, and she was 19 years old. And she was aboy.'Ihave become capable of loving, not with an abstract universal love, buta love I shall choose blindly, my double, just as selfless as I. One hasbeen saved by and for love, by abandoning love and self.' so she read thewords of Franny and Jill from the milled plateau book they had authored Oso many years ago. One has to find the machine that makes you more productive andnot addictive,, the production machine is the creative one. So Mona read her notes backwards.
Adage 1: Sometimes the cure is worse than the disease.

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In the link section I have included the connection the Grazulis website where you can try out the cut up machine fer yerself. this text, which Iw say wascut up was not actually run through the machine.

74~

Your question of meaning and mine don't mean    the same

 each night

we speak and glean the effort

borrow brocades 

lend the day

its permanent place among peers the game

we play a hockey
 game a game

gesture of night day river among avenues

we stay like that move pitcher and cup

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Here you go

I'll be your long-time correspondent
If not your mirror, or partner, or sweetheart
The time is past when you called me girlfriend
Well you never called me girlfriend
Though we dreamed a collective dream
Of office buildings in downtown L.A.
Of detectives and dentists down on their luck
How we love them
Now, discovering my nature without the pleasure of your company
I'll place that bet
I'll be faithful
And of course correspondence brings out the best in you, dear
No fuss no muss no mess
Just the facts, ma'am, and the sound of your voice
Been hearing it in my head anyway
So deciding just seals things
With a byte, as it were
There! I've just been bolder
Than when we lay together
And will be again, for a long time
God willing

Salt On My Tongue

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after a wallow across to my dwelling place / spray on the wind shield / a careless sprinkle / of bad verse, tangy salt, sea lion / to Waiheke I go, homebound / wilting roses from weddings past / behind me, and I don't know / how I came to be on / taking the brim...


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moving together

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 I am moving and together with me moves 5000 books. I must throw some of them, I go slowly shelve efter shelve and I make cruel decisions: Laforgue and Lautreamont, ok, they stay, as Marcel Schowb and Claude Simon. But I throw Pirandello and Kierkegaard and I keep only a few Cioran.
I give them to friends, new discoveries to make...
Ana
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