METHODS COUNTERACTED

you who seek the prophet

need only seek the books

that speak of the prophet

they will tell you

how many pages and words

it takes

to create a mirror

*

radiant

saturday

springtime

there are words more real

than the words you peruse

they are covered

or forgotten

not even by you

but by a source

in a source

the most brilliant of sentences

ask of nothing more

than to never be formulated

look at your hand

the word hand

can easily be hidden there

like sun

look at the sun

the old testament was written there

other books too

expressing the sun

expressing nothing

clocks ticking on a saturday night

bars emptying

streets and alleys emptying

cars and houses emptying

conflict

rejuvenation

and endlessness

given another go

before the apex

murmurs

and pillows

buds

on fingertips

if you are looking

TRIPLEFT

he was having visions

the visions were never the same

he would change

the visions would change

he existed without visions

the visions did not exist without him

the visions would have to begin with him

would he begin with visions

in a vision he was alone

would he begin without visions

those eyes are not eyes

only sleep

-

his poetry was dying

he blamed it on life

life had more power than poetry

the women there are not muses

they are a reason to not commit suicide

before they become the only reason to commit suicide

then they give you the poetry you crave

when you are wild enough to miss its meaning

the open umbrellas

at your wake

are held by them

-

his real violence

was never experienced

but it had language

far beyond the means of violence

it grew

like teeth grow

before you remember them

then rot

or become very expensive

NEWSANCE

she would become the forbidden messiah     her passing impertinent to countries that matter

her sacrifice irrelevant to newspushers     her crucifixion unnoticed in the UN 

her sainthood caught up in paranoia and menial diligence     miracles

would get lost in boredom     or shrouds of drugged witchcraft performed by goons

all of russia's rivers sucked dry

by tarkovsky's horses

before shedding their brutal hides     in unapproved cellars of conceptual poetry

her tears     wanting to represent the entirety of grief     would fall incomprehensibly

unwanted meteorites tearing through wanton atmospheres

like before     her resurrection would be ascertained by resisting her absence

COMESOFORT

her first undressing wouldn't take     she pretended a second nudity

masqueraded the discomfort of knowing what would not come next

her laughter had been real to a point

but the riddled impetus of doom    even when facing a carefully chosen 

europe

provided no rhythm to which her nakedness could swing

                                          repetitions

entangled her in hope      he spoke of beginnings

it is easy

for those whose beginnings take place in the pre-experienced

her eyes     would not pay for the next round

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BLACKOUT AT THE BREAK OF DAWN

your stolen shoe horn broken

you watch wheelchairs congregate

you would be found on a somalian speed boat / in the hands of someone to whom your body was valuable / or in a hospital you cannot afford / expiring while pretending to suffer for someone pretending to care /

you think neither

you think nosedive onto the most expensive car in the hotel parking lot, broken shoe horn lodged inbetween upper lip and front teeth / the overconfidence brought on by sangria, that your action will start a class war /

you will charge the shell of immortality / it's amateur night at the suicide palladium / ambulances will be running through every page you have written / picking up bodies with gusto, and calm / playing jockamo fee nané / loudspeakers on your chest /

you have one wound, the only one that exists

you are healed / the amoeba rises to shout

CORPORATUS

a parliament was planned for saarbrücken, to ensure the city would hold much the same position as strasbourg, which, in effect, would be holding any position at all / it was not accepted with the same avid acknowledgment as hitler's theatre / its main scene almost avoiding the total destruction brought on by the bombs that followed as announced in the second act / whereas the iron works he traded for would be employed as stubborn ruins in a much demanded da capo / for several miles in every direction the burning barn owls, nightingales and wild boars would be resonating for the greater part of a decade inbetween the jilted slopes and disfigured trees / not as thunderous applause, but as forced pillow talk perhaps / the eiderdown would have to be imagined by forces not yet lured into submission / these are the new maginot lines: / cotton strings running from you to a point in me defined by you / in between a variety of bell towers, whorehouses, it was all very fancy / nobody believed you anymore when you spoke of longing as that of which you speak is no longer known as longing at all / hard to see at first, then: nothing at all / trees no longer forcing their nature on you / local politicians drowned in suburban spirits / remembering the heydays as they were, now gently moving on / and what happened with the riverbeds? / gnawed at with thunderous reproach by a pack of ill-tempered boars at dawn, before eventually blacking out from hunger / settling again for teary-eyed chestnuts and holy water springing out from the ground / they would come a long way going nowhere / like you, determined that life must be about more than baumarkt, merguez and cheap or cheaper petrol from luxembourg / coffee and cigarettes too, upheld as a birthright by the lifers / sacrificed before the wreckage of wasted youth / do you remember the eyes of that girl you let go before you down the waterslide in calypso? / they spoke nothing of the feigned sorrow of prostitutes, or the certainty that the sun, even in calypso, would lay waste to your most golden of aspirations / for a moment we could have the smells of childhood / count marbles and skip rope with the other kids never growing old / plunge into the waters in wadgassen parkbad, make a queue of beautiful neverdieolds by blocking the passage in the waterslide at totobad / eating all those chips gone soggy in the sun / how sad then, that the first norwegian journalists to arrive here will only have whorehouses to write about / megabordellos and the lustful french underclass / the menial corruption of the already corrupt / or better, the deification of what was already godly / your erect penis will meet no judgment here / we have undressed in the sauna of history, had our worries surrender to a succession of pulsating hot air / that could be my soul, drifting up the chimney to mix with the breath of the forest / this foundation of trees that always seem to return from wherever it came, perpetually displaying its potential for growth / now this i envy: a tree withstanding its natural condition without ever claiming a name / never doubting its rightful origin, leaving a legacy as ambitious as any: to quietly take part in something eternal / then let these be wings: branches stripped naked year after year / or old men smelling of eucalyptus and crystals stepping into the cold basin of their happiness / let these be stones onto which we inscribe our heinous trespassings, the nights in which we never needed to know love or know of it / let this mark the beginning: the dumb cry of a neanderthal finding itself in a picture book / and was there not that river somewhere, to transport the entirety of our knowing through the disinterested centuries? / here be the cornerstone to solve our political disambiguities: a bomb dug into the core of your follies / the hammer that will set the courthouse ablaze, the indifference with which knowledge stares back at you with / what is most tainted by shame: your unwillingness to add your days to the crumpled clockwork of history, or your inability to do so? / end the search / you are found in being lost / 

ONLY DO BUMPS NOW

failing originality (claiming cliché of already written words and fearing the weight of the internet, misreading information cornucopia trajectory as leading towards deconstruction then reconstruction, rather than para or diaconstructs or all lit ablaze) prominent artist space was reappropriated as baby laxative outlet store / brain canvassed for kicks / body outsourced for skeleton carnivals / heels clacked in every fassbinder movie never watched / shoulders shrugged in a sentence by faulkner still being read / his fingernails weighted down a breath of air in the last museum / finally, in his love, the abomination had stability /

WAR OF THE MUSEUMS

he returned to beauty to find it destroyed / defaced and discredited / subjected to ten thousand hours of shameless interrogation and never believed / resented by those who were to spearhead its adoration and never accepted / always the subject of forced change / where we had her beauty, in the shade of her charms, we have flood lights / and music being pumped out of statuesque installations / this is your deleted scene: / man falls into grave dug deep enough to not be found / cell phone battery expires / grave is covered / some flowers / 

JUMP CAULDRONS

i know parts of my body that do not exist before you make them come true / limbs tingling with phantom joy or phantoms tingling with limbic joy, awaiting that touch / that must have existed before / as that expectation must have existed before / as it happened, that i became aware of parts of my body that were not real until you made them come true / so that i should not know and remember and expect and long all at once / but know before it happens; that i am being made / that i have bones that swivel before you and name you the creator / that beckon you to ask, say / "you who are the creator, how will i know that my lust is real / that i lust not merely for lust itself, your lust / to undo myself in the moment of your creation?" / 

FACE MADE POEM MADE FACE # 2

grow out the membranes are useless conditions for incorporating unknown

FIELDS

/FIELDS/

100

AUDIO

retrieve

A U X

here      gruesome misunder

comes   standing concerning

skin       all (facetious) and s

from      oon horribly impatie

the past  nt who knows all yo

u know

F I E L D S

SOAP

100

holistic 100

FATWA MAJEURE

YAHYA HASSAN LISTEN UP / I HAVE FOUND YOUR FORESKIN / DEEP IN THE DESERT IN AN OLD CAVE / IT WAS LODGED IN BETWEEN TWO Q`URANS / THE MOUTH PIECE OF SOME ANCIENT BALLOON / A PRETTY LITTLE FLOWER, KEPT FOREVER / YOU CAN PICK IT UP IN MY NEXT POEM / IF YOU DO NOT MIND HOW IT LOOKS ALL METAPHORICAL AND ALL / AND LET`S CHILL IN MJØLNERPARKEN AND DISCUSS PRISONS / MINE ARE MADE UP, HOW ARE YOURS? / DEN IK MIN DEN ANGST OVER AL TING DE ER IKKE RIKTIG / DET... BARE ROLIG / CAN YOU SEE THE POETS COMING? / CAN YOU HEAR THE COWBELLS? / THE LITTLE CARS GO LICHTERLO / DUMPSTERS STAND ABLAZE SO DOES MY FAKE FRO / DID I TELL YOU THAT MY PRISON IS NOT REAL? / IT IS MADE FROM THE WORD "YES" /

THIS WEEK IN FILM: FÊTE DE LA FILM AUX SAAR FRANCISCO

FACE MADE POEM MADE FACE # 3

keep flames and majestic forgiveness, consider upcoming evaluations as already evaluated, ways to interact not the interaction, use the body that won't give up, but is extending the need for participation constantly, maybe even afterwards when it no longer knows if it is invited, can be invited again

Hair <> Do

bigger head

thick

and glasses

and glasses

n r

i i

c n

e g

C O M B (handarbeit)

H E R E

ship

typewriter

HIDEOUSLY BEAUTIFUL always ever better than worst

exclamation of grief and lack of banking details exclude

what can still count still hang on to the head until the

body falls

HOLD ON TO SOMEONE YOU SHOVE

the importance of having hair in your face / and bladder laughing, overjoyed / tumble uphill, romanticising pet funerals / and laugh those teeth out / some olympic meetings under our nation's sheets / have a rebellion, now another / write off sweat + death any time / this face or the next / only slightly betrayed, by muscles and spider eggs /

wonderful toilets hidden on mountain ridge /

you killing monkey to feed me / 

this must be life + elephant tusk /

virtuosity disguised as charm / hens upholding the voracity of lovers / must trickle down, they think, upon servants of the tower / 99 % cowardice expecting to play role of love / pepper-sprayed into servitude, long lasting, yet still bored / expecting to transcend / some old book / unanswered, like all those childhood prayers of jesus, napoleon, hitler and the rest / 

ORINOCO BLOWS

he took the animal running to the edge / saw it start again / and had nostalgia turn into parameter recordable for eyes / all those bugs to eat / never inquire who else had eyes and glanced back / drifting to cross over / humdrum characters reinvented, pretty figurines on skeletal fireplace / heads, half belonging to bodies lugged or lugging / breaks, chewing gum / remembering books during conversation, reestablishing need of words so as to welcome the death of the medium, me-to-you kinda thing / what else: density of unspoken bodies, this guy or the next travelling your (mine) borderless plains / headhunters of the real, the verisimilarity [UFO to shameless past leaving in 8 minutes, teeth] of left chicken houses, right? / this plane or the next, when will you finally touch me, and have touch in return, like guarantee / hand me down the instruments of a cleaner chaos, like birds making love in this one, or the next one of someones ultimately best or worst poem? crime, they must write, because they think of laws. 

HEAD ON NORTH OF THE COMPASS

trending the obvious, bow and arrow

odysseus' ship hashtagged, tornadoes of meaning

comfy, this television set where everything is

said, and belongs to reality too, my

opinions; sad waffles

hurried

through the afterlife

so that i could share with you the comfortable nothing of which i know

new hemispheres now

and all them jesuses

still chewing on umbilical chords

MEMWARS

that monstrosity of a gameshow: hidden prizes, jewels - geometrically flawed - in inner television terrariums

jet streams of blood upsetting your cranky fuselage

hedonism, no actors: "here be normality"

onslaught of sweets and cuddly cozy, your back against a piece of bread, smear

liquify the experience, holy tombstone, lucretia borgia smörgåsbord

give phantom head just

as poussin senses bacon's longing for the best cry in the history of painting

and paints the best cry in the history of painting

and eisenstein too

then bacon

continuing the development of that already perfectly ornate carnage

by painting the best cry in the history of painting

and then the photographs, and some more holy onlooking, and your parapet gaze, valet parked in the unread book of surprise

hoodlumed into submission, keys rattling in your very large pocket

before astonishment

and that thing opposite of oblivion 

TREATHES

who kills nightmares

god kills nightmares

god is alcohol

who lives by the river

god lives by the river

god is destruction

who inherits the mountains

god inherits the mountains

god is taxation

god takes care of you

who wrote the bible

god is l ron hubbard

god smells fear

who eats chicken

god is the makeshift avantgarde

god provides those services

god is the fixer

who knows not of himself

god is continuous peace

god is emblazoned as both snake and city

god is history's total lack of irony

CAGE ANIMALS

i can spot your jungle

see through branch 

move like something recently liberated 

catch prey where it falls

move into secondary flat

ornaments

and velcro

chequer this chequer that for you

tree tops

eucalypt the driveway

sandal wood bed

sit

rattle

HELLO LUBRICATED CELLS

undo unnecessary welcome

whole country coronary

remember bus nowhere

that menial godliness

hello bush animal

ridicule bull saying

worship even temperature

that forest boogie

apply unkempt everything

cute cops laughing

tell boss nothing

weirdness when normal

hold grave wholesome

little buggy crying

let thing grow

saw green fruit

make make count

hold atlas high

look here her 

lastness then significance 

skin those teeth

flesh is yours

-

AT CAVE

so the dialectics were changing 

the beasts approached the adventurers with silver tongued flamboyancy to carve out a smile

discarded their fear, spoke soft words, full of telephone numbers and promises

"we must leave, relatively unharmed"

he woke up or fell asleep in or to the DVD-menu's insisting jingle

had legs

armour too

a little girl ran across the floor, throwing silver coins at a fat Himalayan on the window sill

her legs caught fire, 

- visitors brought cake and ale -

dawn

lamp posts giggling

trespassers on the heath

edible solutions, big head of dreams

you can't spell compromise without "hemingway"..

so it goes

cat like

purrs

and was decidedly political, the face and the ballot mattered, felt good

engage in conversation: "hey      you      death      like"

never got elected by the bored, so

it was reasonable to move to Poland

"have you even heard how big dreams can grow?" 

never harvested: plutonium date

handshake

VOYAGE TO ASTANA

do not ask me to summarise all the signs / that stand out of the trivial and transitory / proposing to make a leap from the trivial and transitory / into the industrious and frantically mystical / two o clock in the morning at Tbilisi International Airport / just let me quickly mention the perturbing sight of two men / eyes closed / spinning heaps of luggage into cling film cocoons / with trained gusto / likely learned from teosophic books on the art of dance / cocoons / that will later fill the gap between check-in desk 21 and 23 / and disappear into a pit / to return as disagreeable moths / forever drawn towards the ecstatic light coming from your love wound / towards the scar that is healed by a kiss / or reversely / towards the kiss that is healed by a scar / 

PAST LEVITATION

tired of using titanics / for the non-commercial purpose of approaching you / cracked hulls and busted propellers / I turn icebergs upside down / and sail them like galleons / shipwrecking proper / into south poles unnoticed / to extradite my love for you / a fine powder / made of hardened northern lights / crushed on living-room tables by stewards / to take one connection and snort it / and never have to juggle the other / the undressed tip of an iceberg / a body in full / for making atlantic babies 

WEARY EYES

just because I am trendy / it does not mean I have to uphold all these feelings of insecurity that you continuously maintain I am responsible for / look at the cave: / one of us came out of it / deemed it uninhabitable and moved out / you know, and became that news vendor on Times Square / that doorman at [POLISH NIGHTCLUB] / that salesman of hard facts / soft spittoons / firm believer of all those religions that were spewed out of some hell-hole on 14th street / or somewhere that was not even Manhattan / Barcelona? / Calle Fortunados / guns / here be useful daydreams / a life washing ashore where another dwindles away / the parakeets of Rua Augusta / the new and improved notebooks of Sao Paulo / 1500 worker bees humming, unnoticed / in those forced daydreams /of plentiful yesterdays probably / nostalgia asleep in hotel rooms, the skin that deceives you / the trees that you thought spirited reminds you of nothing at all / several phone cards bought for far too many reais, blown immediately on calling weather services in countries not yet visited / eternal lie of magical alley where uncle Jim or John lives with one or several families / the blessing of being fruitful / like the French or the Dutch would know once a year, and thereby plummet onto the streets like murdered chameleons / ripe for change and observation / and all the other fruitful deaths wherein massive chandeliers are swinging in relaxed unison / songs / gleefully performed by an orchestra of ants / trampling down the carpet of eternity / the singular entirety of space / another reverberating cave: endless chatter of next level insects / misunderstood kisses / because the bus stop was just "so us", held all the keys to unlocking the chambers of our boredom / shouts: / written simultaneously on every chinese typewriter ever produced / patiently / avoiding any outburst that fall upon the category of water / and air / poison, too / 900 characters left behind / separate beehives / words upon effect: / the trade union guillotine agreement / perfume for the beheaded / gasoline for the queen buzz / something now, before the dawn /  

•

WHENEVER SUMMER COMES AND GOES

we rarely talk of the dreariness of junebugs      the severed cadavers split in half      at the might of my hand      at the thrust of a shovel      legs bent in faltering prayer          like those of crustaceans      flapping at the base of a cream-coloured shell      the see-through cocoon      never meant to be unearthed       never meant for the direct terror of sunlight      see; there's a challenge:      do not shrimp      all day i have thrown ant hives into bushes      you see: this land is my land      god will not make any more out of it than me      yet: cities need compassion      insects too then      insects too  

IZTAPALAPA

head just swollen

content

suggesting

that nothing

comes

out

of violence

but

wrong

look

at who you became / the snow thawed again / and meaningful love / spurted out / hung on to you and me you and me / none of our babies were flawed / happens to be / that all of us / will move in and out and in and out / of our antique apartments 

together

and never have different pasts again/