Things She Kept

a quail's egg
and a dead man's finger
her father's glass eye
threaded with sweat
and whiskey

20061206

vulgarité effarante
de ces livres aux bas rouge
affichant leur prix
pour d'aucuns leurs prix
comme une bande de putes
dans ces maisons de passes
littéraires aux maquerelles
et maquereaux à coups de coeur

Pop Tart Poem

the blue from the sky distinguishes towns from losing all centre. a place as happy as clearing stays with us, colder but in a mild convulsion we let this touch our hands, together. we stop and then, tender, doesn't that mean we live? little things and smaller too. Pop Tarts sit in heaven toasty warm. we live n grass growing brown and the apples fell. fell with pure old times, that makes the best Pop Tart if not forever. forever becomes a definite impulse. loss is not as static as we once believed. the delicious crusty pleasure of going far for breakfast treat means something. something like Pop Tarts as bridge to a new word without prior meaning. we can have a poetry today, life still. another day, another blue or grey imitates sky. then when I say these structures abide, then I let a moon beam fill a poem. no, no poem lives like that, I just let myself think.

Throw Nups On My Penis Muffler

Laocoön ribbed his fellow Trojans against
the wooden horse presented to the city by
the Greek merchants, now the damn thing
is throwing up Hoplites and Baklava like
a beehive!

SHO NUP!

throw nups! THROW NUPS!
grown ups with nubs are nuptial arrangements
smoking limbs mean lightning, Charles
Boyar V omits red lightning.

SHO NUP!

sampling Tuscaloosa Treepod people
amidst the blush and humerous, we've
said there's a hush in the hummus pit,
little frogmen made of carrots
speared with a chinese umbrella toothpick.

"I found this big old Arabian masturbating
under my hammock while I slept."

Then Lon Chaney said:

"Love Egypt and Egypt will love you"
these ameteurs lungs were coated full of sea
water, vomitting back into Clerics of the
Mystery Cults, Thank Goddess he isn’t
defending Bush. This is sort of suck.

SHO NUP!

when vomitting and the vomit exits the nostrils
take hold of your doggies dewlaps, or you
may plummett endless fathoms to the floor
of the poem. It is a life giving force
which has it's roots in the Underworld and death
of jocular rotund salesmen of Science Laboratories.

I just had my dog sign a nuptial arrangement.
Sho Nup I did! Bleak in the tidal E-foff-vellure,
Hugo in his ANTEDILUVIAN HAT-PANTS, Basset
hound wearing a special Sherlock Homeric
double bill. SHERLOCK-ACID / WATSON-BASSET

SHO NUP!

Why, goddess, why? This is the second year
in a row I've gotten stomachy-vomitting
issues on the playa. Tampon mummy dogs
are pouring from the ears of the Sphinx,
I need to pay golden tribute to the
porcelian goddess. That's not nice,
its porcupine porno.

yacketayakking screaming vomitting whispering
Purple Goddess in Frog Pyjamas
What is essential is invisible to the eye.
Half Asleep in Frog Pyjamas. Half Asleep
in Frog Pyjamas: Tom Robbins Chemical analysis
of raw, dry-roasted, and honey-roasted licorice.

Anyway, for all you Fraudian, Post-Freudian types,
If you think I'm kidding, Here's the khaki play-doh
Mushmouth Laocoön I made wrestling a giant
Dachsun snake. It's where I hang my penis muffler.

SHO NUP!

I can't find any evidence we are vomitted
by the GODDESS into the WESTERN LANDS...

new as of now

Ommadawn it's Hallelujah
time for the Zoo reception
go to step with orangutan
        (he'll dance anywhere he lazy
        but wise and drinks box-wine)
fall asleep in army boot of captain
lovingly into the passion 
a praise of lord in semaphore
        into grace but no one believes
        except the swarming multitudes

Nude Black & White :Laura Barletta

Laura Barletta of Zaftig

is a newer member of Brim blog and has asked me to post this collage of hers here. i am happy to  do it,

Her blog is a beta blog and there seems to be some problems posting from one type of blog to another __ Brimmers and anyone else, beware of Beta blog.

Thank you Laura .

Where is the sun?

Carlo, "Birds and People" (art brut) I like the spirit of this very much

I anchor the moon.

I anchor the moon
with balzac and pub
essence of dreams
capes and lo lit
a scribing to love
I rolls down a hill
where buzz
aws are slicing
each quarter an inch
'til the soda pop jerks
the painting with flavors
from the art house of nature
a suicide drink
to wake up and come
hang me in windows
on your bedroom tonight.

Pride

Pride is like a chicken sitting on a heat lamp, or like a cue ball in your underwear. You don't even care, do you?

a length of time

continuance become length
become continuance again
by slanted means
of someONE writing
of someONE reading
redelivering an instant
captured in an uncertain
duration

14 Nights in Carnac

14 Nights in Carnac

mixed media - book and oak leaves

14 Nights in Carnac - a piece made by UK artist Paul Conneally (Little Onion) in July 2006. The artist spent 14 nights in Carnac famous for its megoliths its standing stones. He lived and slept below two oak trees. Each night reading sections of Haruki Murakami's The Wind-up Bird Chronicle plucking an oak leaf from the trees and placing it inside the book as a bookmark.

The finished piece is the book with the leaves pressed inside it.

GuyotaT , PierrE

"Guyotat. Sa voix grave, extrême, rauque, qui porte les stigmates de l’extrême, de l’outre – tombe, du spectre désirant. L’éraillement de la vie outrancière. Comme un souffle qui transgresse et qui s’insurge."

for sampleS of voice Guyotat  go to  Ubusound and you can hear him
reading a short excerpt from Eden, Eden Eden.

« J'ai seulement, peu à peu, refusé la littérature, c'est-à-dire l'ornementation par les mots de la réalité, qu'elle soit externe ou interne. J'ai souvent dit que je ne pouvais pas mettre en place ce monde qui est le mien, un tel monde, dans la langue de tous les jours comme dans la langue littéraire conventionnelle. De même que par ce monde qui est le mien (putain, charogne, misère, menace du massacre, etc.) je retourne à l'élémentaire, à la faim, au désir, à la défense du territoire, à l'animalité et à ce qui, dans l'homme, ne peut se résoudre à la seule animalité ou à la seule humanité, à la souffrance métaphysique en somme, de même s'est imposée à moi, musicalement, et logiquement, cette langue rapide (élision du e muet, disparition de prépositions de lieu, de temps inutiles, etc.), expressive (accentuation renforcée, désaccentuation, etc.), essentielle (contraction des mouvements, du temps, de l'espace, etc.). En quelque sorte, j'efface de la langue tout ce qui m'y paraît inutile, tout ce qui n'est pas expressif. Mais il s'agit d'une langue que je connais bien depuis l'enfance, que depuis l'enfance je pratique poétiquement; il ne s'agit donc pas d'une fantaisie sonore (pour le plaisir du son). Je connais cette langue et ses ruades internes, ces mouvements presque de fœtus dans le ventre de la mère patrie. Mais je connais aussi, du moins dans leurs sons ou dans leurs structures, les langues européennes et elles interviennent toutes dans cette transformation que je fais: rien de tel aussi que l'écoute de la musique vocale ou du cinéma parlant de tous les pays pour comprendre une langue et pour se transformer soi-même en langue, en instrument; drôle de vie, drôle d'avenir! »

===================================



for Anyone who is  interested in more of Pierre Guyotat writing Eden, Eden, Eden, has been translated into English,  and there is also another that I know of. but, as you can see, the name,escapes moi.

In Another essay/view Guyotat states: I refuse the literature of neurois and choose

that what I name the literature psychosis_ psychoseature i.e. schizo

analysis.

His books were many times banned seriously in France in the 1970s.

-----------------------------------------------------

Montreal_ " A" sexiest naked walking city

For everyone Pour touS... ~~~~~~~~~~

'A group (of 2000 or so) who gathered on a Sunday morning (starting around 5am) for one of Spencer Tunick's famous performance art photographs in Montreal Canada.'

photo at





other More here

a series of specified steps

gabreil pomerand--from saint ghetto of the loans

pour clifford

gabriel pomerand-lettriste---pour clifford

a poem about nothing

Our desires have no language.  It is only the thud of this upon that.  Themes come to us easy as rain, but evaporate with the coming light.  Our manger scene resembles the Manhattan Project.  We give birth to the light of the world.  See it rising blooming a more perfect shade.

T / TTP ~M~ TTS / NDO

®- pan-ther / root@grotesque 'transcendent materiality'

readspace delimit:
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'a dream of future lovers....

Julie Night takes on two yellow roses
with her talented spine.
If you have never understood Julie before
you are in for an eternity.
Even Gia acknowledges that Julie
is a master of sunsets, and that
should mean a galaxy. After some serious
carefully considered withdrawing action
both guys let their horizons drool
all over her six foreheads.

Jayna Oso has a sleepy wisdom about her
that makes you want to paint her clock.
The skinny Latina has no limits coming to life
when two poets appear.
Jayna has an extremely peaceful scene
that is bound to satisfy
even the hungriest of the downtrodden.

Naudia Del Rio has legs that go on for light-years
and she can't wait to extend them further
into the empty space behind all walls!
The twenty-year-old gets baptised after talking
about how much she loves burning money.
Brittany soars with Gia at the start
and tells her that she's a blessing like water.
Brittany has a one-on-one cleansing
that explodes quickly into silent blossoms;
you really have to walk into it.

Gia brings the movie to a homeless man.
Boy does she bring the movie (and your ego)
to a grand cinema. Any fan of Gia's knows
that she excels with multiple mouths.
Two guys immediately spider down upon her
and don't stop discussing her virtues the entire time.
Gia is literally filled with large green leaves
from the first minute to the last.
Gia's fern is taken on a wild ride
and both guys worship her until she nearly breaks.
As she gets time-travelled you can see in her eyes
that there is no place she would rather be
than between two simmering horses.


_____________________________

I don't know a thing about staring

I don’t know anything about staring.
I don’t know anything about looking.
I don’t look any more than you do.
I don’t want any more than you look.

Look out of the window. Stare out at something.

I don’t know anything about Staring.
Staring doesn’t know anything about me.
But who I am is about the same as anything
you could say, in English, about Staring.

Suddenly I realized SHE was bringing back some colors in my life ...

intimate share, one morning

I wrote some writing in the time it takes to breathe auspicious breaths. grey was the morning, the same morning that provides current in the darkening stream. each morning differs with a colour or light. sometimes the writing needs a day of plain rocks tossed into the coming concentric circles. sometimes the circles precede the very rock that will be embraced. in our intimate swimming the rings seem marvelous and conjoined to our rush of perspective. we are challenged to embrace thru the normative particles of recent events. this is the love we sought. and if I wrote some breath, it becomes me to stay back from the movements that follow. the circles will widen, as anyone can see. grey mornings will suffice. something terrific gives us our time. we share and trend toward delight. not everyday gives such evidence, and sadly, the trees have disowned the latest year of leaves. the circle settles in its growing and we hold hands. there sits the gesture, rounding out nicely.

28

A solid insistence (something like pushy furniture) furtively
fails the riddle of
false haze.

A fog that doesn’t quite subsist,
sprawls out a costly
swerve (Dear Turn,) brandishing absence
as a forerunner to scream,

uprooting a greasy shared divulgence (the sort that slips throats)
swilled down like tranquillisers to perish memories.

Whipping detection into shape
with a tipple that teeters on ripe
gentleness, sluggish yet blatant

to grapple
and grin

as surplus hindsight chronicles the charm that chips.

Isou blogesqueBretonblogesque

------------------------------------

pour David-Baptiste Chirot

found ing typepadding 

bloggette

'Le blog du lettrisme'

its been a whiile since the letter phone was considdering as

deterritorialzing metaphonics as dress codes breaking back

the doddering folds re-reading Isou's reflections on Andre BreTon[e]

situation 68_ switched to paris 2005_ multitude of mass

overhelming as wordfatters

_______________________________________________________________

signed unsigneted

______________________________________

the Burroughs File -City Lights Books San Francisco
Tzara Grains et Issues
THe Pelican History of Medieval Europe
Metamorphoes Ovid _
The Odyssey _ A modern Sequel Nikos Kazantzakis _trans KIMON FRiar
Macbeth
Macbeth _James Thurber's version (hilariously funny, crack yer ass up
yer spine busting up and down stairs of cutups by zany Burroughs, Uncle
Bill _) Museum Without Walls _ tatterd partially collage copy
Terra Nostra _first copy 1976 _contains anecdote about the origins
of the book missing from second edition. Book is in half

_
where did you purchase that one? with living with Gail Maurice mathematician
working at D. Milne shipper_ gowns and motorboards _ Critique of Dialectical
Reason first edition first (only) English trans. 37 bucks 1976_ was a lot of
money_ bread! had bread? dig. Levine's bakery, 34 cents for kimmel. fresh
as goget it. got one at CotesdesNeiges Plaza bakery stale as baker's beans!
f_ that man! no swearing allowed! what is a fragment? is it cursing to the
bold TEXT.? Is love allowed, a word repeated ad infinitum division
di-Vision. members of the common reader. signed v. woolf. unsigned
copy of guattari cooper letter. first contract for Fictions signed /unsigned
letters from france. love soap. condoms. ? WHAT?

word finds place repeating vesself. has Andre Breton let home.
comes to love with a foolhardy plate. gackles geese, gargoyles
evil as Eye to scare off the ghastly. monstrous. A la Bosche
my Celine. Oh oui on va plue loins. A l'ecarte.
Once if you remember well albatross kicked over yer trail.
a pelf for Bruce, and his death warrants. kissy coo love letters
from lover in high school Cardinal Newman High School for boys.
Dig, no girls. was water to lend facts, to drifting drames. Mister
Monsieur Archie, French teacher, very hars.h. Warner, for
math. drove a corvette. was prissy. huh, Prissy. Insouciant
my girlfriend said she heard told tales stories about him
played pool after highscool. won never played . after.
cadets.lance corporal D. get yer ass . here. walk Sharon
home. Big boobs. rubbed me. tortured winter silken soldier.
was my lover. catography cartography . map making . dig.
was love'r 's spent weir.
I love you. heard to play busted trombone. needs to fristing quick.
sex is fustled numerous path.

Come to your O Canada land of love and haste immanence
degree fire first of many plateaus to yer dgism.
lovergisms.
gizmo.
see snow.
thy lips are snow bowed to creature.

___________________________
poste restante:
carte de
Androcles and the Lion
George Bernard Shaw (an ld Fable Renovated)
marked tatter copy hardly read him this
of expression punctuations
penguin Plays
sticker inside
50 cents
60

great irish writer
his own preface is longe than play
a man before his time

Fun Fact

.



To this very day, Ohio remains the only state in the union where Charles Manson was born.



.

a may 68 memory in a milwaukee '06 momemt

fog 2

.


you contradicted yourself in that
there okay you did and you so what know
its stem was steel cut the breaking day
care package repent

love's loose ally content 

hmmm shake it to you baby
 (i held rivers of hate)
keep the cold frost coming
its front rear back  cold cold

see  repeat cold coiled incold
incolding we 're incolding our contract'd
invoices dear my near sear one
sane  love's defeat  proximity at death
breath's behovely ganglion leg
tussed its truant self




.



.

'A fog came

A fog came down    over Montreal
with your name on it
your name all over it
over its feet its tail

you were sitting there watching tv
but you couldn't see
you couldn't see
but hear you could hear you
could
I know cause I said __
and you could hear that
and waved my hand in front of your flat screen tv
watching as you did unknowingly I was there
the Illiad or some human literary interest show
I waved my hand in front of your tv screen
to you it was not hearable you couldn't hear
and I was singing singing
a thrush I was a thrush
singing love for you
and you sort of saw a blink a blank for a moment a moment
in front of your tv screen your gray and black tv screen
you wondered for a moment wondering what it was
then went back to what you then went back to what you were doing
sewing or something or sitting watching your human interest story
and your bloglines were rolling rolling they were like any other
human rollings does it does it does it does it does
I was standing there with my unscrolling victrola knowing it was you
in my guts in my stomach

Knowing the fog come down over Montreal
was you was you you you you
it was you it's you you tailing over the city
the early morning fog
hulking skulking
obviously over the city
over the city
obviously you
You

navy boat notes

Mona clocks a navy boat
round fennel to heart skip
herald the catatonic pieced
penned off the wall
not getting the machinery of love's take
its giddy-up gue she kick ice flummery & acidnine pens
cambers a shirt decks a cloth


entering the fiction what Eye bend
ing a personae eye-glid
elide thing?




if'd inside the flictionher affliction
affects deadening-eyelid the maelid
over the subway under the subway
by grand trunk pale scar she wined
her finesome fay come comes to too two

a step on the stoop of the infinite in time

Black Dog Yelping Yes (2)

Scrod: I think I might have the impetigo…

Paddy: Starts in the legs, you know…deep in the bone.

Scrod: My legs are fine.

Paddy: Dogs’ legs…that’s what you’ve got…

Scrod: It’s a shame.

Paddy: Your legs?

Scrod: No…that you think I have dogs’ legs…with all we’ve been through, the itching and…

Paddy: That’ll get you nowhere…thinking like that all backwards…like a fool, I’d say…no?

Scrod: Water…I’m thirsty.

Paddy: Helps with the legs…?

Scrod: Impetigo, cuts the slake in the bone.

Paddy: Eats away like a cancer, so I’ve been told…festering and boiling up…

Scrod: And the itching…I can’t stand the itching…

Paddy: Like rats eating away at the legs, at the bone…

Scrod: With all we’ve been through…

Paddy: And what’s yet to come…yes…

Scrod: Yes…that too, the waiting…

Paddy: For it to come…yes, there’s always the waiting, never a moment’s rest…

Scrod: Never…

Paddy: Never a moment’s rest…

Scrod: And the festering and boil…in the bone.

Paddy: Always in the bone…like a cancer, so I’ve been told.

eltsuhg ibal lasiti, maenadism,
exceptionally crude and heartless,
porteous, glorified radio,
trinfinity habichatters, grachnik,
whizgender, chaulkers hats if
hobbyhorse, an anarchy of light,
listmembership, disaster time,
old australian felt hat, the
economic health of a city,
harness the creative energy,
consider employment in hair,
the appearance of concrete
identities, abide by the terms,
touch each letter and say its
name, ready to go now here,

[thanks to david dellafiora for "storage and retrieval" via his ReSite assembly 'zine (#5)]

you will find

'mon affaire, c'est le pourtour'

d'après J.Brolaski

J'ai rêvé ta jumeauté.
Il y a une sphère
absolue d'où tu tombas.
Foulée ample, émeraude, fixé
en un point
je t'ai vu.
Fais confiance à ma Curiosité
de ne tolérer aucun autre Argument
et de fortifier mes entrailles au Paradis
le plus proche. Et bien que l'Imposant
Traité tienne,
Je ne le détruirai point.
Même si l'Amour voyou
est une force à laquelle nous nous risquons.

Traduit par Tomas Sidoli.

wreck control (for roy acuff)

belong.

I just want to belong


anywhere.

anywhom.