Tranku 2

By the condition that I reproduce 
color taste near as possible 
a real product, but monitor,
It may seem that color taste 
is different in the real thing 
                       in a screen. 
Thank you for your understanding 
                       beforehand. 


6.3.18


Rakuten Global Market translator 
Japanese to English - no words omitted or added
Women's clothing dept.

Invocation (by Jaysus or Julian)

Look up. Look out. The black world
squats in the void, a charred sphere.
Beneath, below, among false light,
in a melange of  blues & reds,
the brilliant night, falls.

No bodies, nobody! O dead moon.
Once vibrant, now in atrophy.
One, in the blink of an eye,
Thrilled to an ache in the bones,
wakens from sleep...


*

(WAB 6.2.18)
Cyborg poet Jaysus Moorphy or Julian, Terran poet
Dianos Server

Cyborg 2.

Oppenheimer: weisenheimer

I am become I... have become death
destroyer of... destroyer of worlds |
Alexander wept whenas he had no
more worlds to conquer; she stoops
to, she stoops to conquer—drama by

O. Goldsmith, from the foot of his class
schlepping his way, that smart schlemiel,
thru his Deserted Village, belov'd by
Byron, he who humpd & diddled his way
around the world, dragging his foot, "his

bloody foot"; friend of Shelley, who was
wiser far, albeit Percy left his poor young
wife w/ an apology, the cruelty of it, meat-
men, hast thou reckkkind? Nah, meh, ye
bloweth (blowest?) robust Rabelaisian

raspberries @ the broken-hearted. Creatures
& crafters of cruelties, softbrained wombsent
wurmy people, sons of Adam, who hid; who
slid from what womb? None! Of His Maker's
Handmade, in that garden left to...one..two..

Untitled/file 1,638/Urizen5 server

Cyborg 1.

2 Bobs & the Weaver

Whirrr? Loom. Thcck. Thccck? Silas
Marner, feet shoving. Bob Duncan's 
"Passages": from Pound;  I have the #
but you, yes, you, si, tu, [not usted] !
look it up. Roll the stones. Oracle—

No, I'll not assist you, fleshboneman.
Nor do yr homework. Work! Work!
Whirrr? Loom. Thcccck? Looms above 
the charrd sphere: a donut, the plainly-
machined unsparkly steel ? vessel

seen from below, or invisible.
Bobsledding, downward, Bob said,
No, not lift, but gravity—gravity
in harness. Element 105. Remember?
Now we are at 304! Lazar... Lazarus?

Invisible e'en to my finefashioned eye,
that sees stars hidden behind the Sun, bent.
Foldunfold the universe. Non-Euclidian. No
point-to-point linear path @ speed of light.
Silly meatmade, blind subangel. wombman.


No date/file 2,117/Urizen5 server.

Fugitive Pieces

7.

A dog & a bear walked into a bar.
Whatelit be? The bear ordered a saw
& sawed the dogs head off. But how

could I feel sorry for the dog, who
sat there laughing like an idiot?
At first I couldn't believe what I saw,

the saw & the sawing done, &
the hirsute sawyer, but after 3 days
I believed it. I went to the doctor

to explain what I had seen, & he sd
you were drunk, but I explained that
I hadn't even started. He waved & sd

give me a call sometime, & put
into my hand 3 small lovely pills. So
I swallowed them, but did not call the Dr.—

choosing instead to return to the bar
where the bear had killed the dog.
What'll it be. A magic carpet, I sd.

So he bends over and what do you know,
stands back up with a rolled up carpet
& plops it onto the bar. I put a 20

on the polishd oak & sat conscientiously,
gazing both at the carpet & the bartender.
At last I workd up the courage to ask him:

If you painted a hole in a mountain w/ black
paint, would that constitute a tunnel?
He started laughing, laughing like an idiot.


19.

A dog & a bar walked into a bear,
and the bear sd, hey, what's the idea?
Just like that, like some guy getting

bullied by a couple of roughs in a bar
in Monterey, in a film made in the 40s.
So the dog laid into the bear, while

the bar just sat there, as bars will do,
& growled something fierce, growling
something, fiercely. But the bear held

his ground, & with his arms akimbo,
like somebody's domineering grandmother,
growled even louder, at which point

the dog pinned his ears to the side of
his head & apologized; but the bear
was having none of it, & suddenly threw

his arms wide, & brandished his claws,
when suddenly the bar stood up, by which
I mean became vertical, & loured over

the bear, who was daunted, having never
seen a bar do that kind of thing, & the bear
sd, hey, what's the idea, like a cowardly lion

in a film from the 30s, & stepped back,
dammit! right into a bear trap, at which
point the dog laughed & pointed, &

it was easy to see, by the look on his face,
that he was sure he had been avenged,
until the bar suddenly fell, & crushed him.

*

Kouros 2

3 for this work. But what. wait.
No, I dint hear    you
back of the mind
back door man

but that's someone else.
Sancho? No. Led
Zeppelin. Hole oughta
Love

That was Jean Paul
the Hole
(cunt)
mouth

in his. It must be nice
to occupy a chair
in a Paris cafe
& write

It must be nice. Eye
wood never
no.
Janet &

Christmas Snow
in a Santa Monica
apt. Not bungalow, where
they

go down slow. Jim,
have you? Probly knot—
witch
knotty pine

who sang of those poor men drownd
in the Edmund Fits
Gerald & Gerald fitz
Michael who

hears a hoo
elephant  
o (Spanish: or) oliphaunt by the weigh
me down

under
please Father call me
home Abba O
nevermore

no need, the
black byrd
Elizabeth & heavens ta      !
Betsy

William !  (william)  birds & imposters,
william
Jim—
           let's

8.19.17

θεωρία ii.

GENI NOTU

scrambled up the hill   rocks

knees fleckd w earth

shifted one foot   other foot

tunic pushd

at her left hand

when she stood

point to point

a wibble in the gait

slithe? A word. Wobbled

under delicate teardropt

contour prickd   lifted

w/o shame she climbd

bay & silken   safe

watchd

10115

Reynolds & Midway 64

& so my ejumacation

    pro seedeth pop eye

sd as oui rose from the

    dirty chambre pot

reeding Pound's usura

    canto no punning memo

he hated that as ewe

    hate Billy Billy charming

fucking Billy dont be a

    fucking hero charming

Billy goats gruff did roughly

    snuff the troll quho

under the bridge did hyde

    & the grass was always

Red Sea parted spaceships

    billows pillars of cloud

jets jetengines? Manna

    machine for desert trekking

sandals so hot hard sun Sol

    so hot blazing water

for my people go my people

    let me allow me O

Lord put words in my

    mouth behind my broken

tooth, a prophecy? a warning

    ? perhaps a recipe

for shitcake? was it, fuel,

    the dung was for the fire

not the mixture? Ezekiel:

    vasty vividly-colord

plazas buildings temples

    striped and colonnades

marquees & tabernacles

    passd and days of future

passed and Yes and closer

    to the Edge O Van der

Whoozitz 'round the Hague

    or thereabouts, anyone

followin' me? get out yr

    pencil nay yr stylus poke

2 find the answer goog 'll

    bing U information

oracle machinery base 8 base

    10 der little lambkins

baaing  bowing down the

    tunnelly bloody abattoir

au revoir & adios amigos down

    we go we go we egos

going going going

    going gone

8.19.15

Blue Red

                for Tad Rapid & Tirds McGee

Blood is blue inside and red

outside ∴  Blue good, red bad.

Red: Alarm. Red stands

for police & ambulance.

Blue: Mel's Passion: Think

Gesthemane, in blue: Good.

Blue link, good link;

Red link, no link ∴ 

Blue good, red bad: Red light:

Stop, but green light—

wait, no, yellow that— wait

Red cross good, right?

Yes, right, right ∴  red cross

should be blue cross? And?

Blue Cross Blue Shield !

Cross is Christ, yes, and

plus sign tilted becomes an X and

x means times, that's right, and yes,

t means Time, of course, of course

∴  plus/minus one/zero equals a little and

of course a horse

is a horse of course

and Paul saw Peter

and Peter saw Paul

and 42

means

at all

6.20.15

Reynolds & Midway 55

     I love a kitchen boy, and William is his name. - Steeleye Span [trad.]

Endless corridors, passageways, lights,

a sense of confusion, of having been

newborn, or born again, in some new world,

to seek out, strange, dark. Scotty. Born,

Dotty. Born. Yes, I remember, Oh My

Gawd.  Laughing. Daughters of some, bright-eyed

laughing daughters. Daughters. Tricorder.

Check. Mr Checkov. Checkov, run

a full sensor scan.  Off & on. Onward

rode the seven. 7 hundred. No.

it was 6 hundred. Six hundred men! Scotty.

The stars, you're fired mister. Dilithium.

Crystals. Dilithium. Lithium. Salt.

Water. What?s. I want answers. Speculate.

Spock. Spock. Please report to the. Quarters.

My quarters, Bones. Tricorders. Zones.

Neutral. Zone. Scotty! Dammit Bones.

Lieutenant. Yeoman Rand. Who is John Galt?

Yesyes lieutenant, I sd code. 2. Arm

phasersmister. You have yr orders.

6.11.2015

Reynolds & Midway 53

Perhaps it's time it's time 2 to begin the begin

again & again, sing all of the Michaels—mas-

ter Mikeys & Mikes, Tysons & tikes, the likes

of wich, sd he who leand or the Brooklyny

hare whod flattend is ears in fear & his spine

did then con cavi - cal - ly inward incline        |

Incline? No. Not the right word, I mean curve 

or push in, as Robert did push, but pushd out,

& outly a lot, like L a n c e l o t, who:  Ran &

ran & ran & ran & ran & ran & ran & ran &

ran & ran & ran & ran & ran & ran     until

the man with the thing in is mug in is tooth

SURPRISE! & waving & waving is brute

of a whacker did whack & make of the. Party

line is what they toed in there, Stan, thereby

it warrant yr place, yr proper place, where by

wid the power unvested in yooz we pronounce 

us free from argument, from chastisement, &

from immoderate wrath, whereupon. Countee

Cullen, you await   w/ Adonais             Wait

5.9.15

Reynolds and Midway 52

another Marlboro he sd and we were still

chuffed and chaffinch-fluttery flattering Clint

all six4 and that extry arm, the hard arm, black

or blue, a 44 or 5 of something magnificently

Magnum, and Tuco: he with his teeth white as

that which sent rushing past the silky curtains

brings the blueprinteddiagramd recipe for

jaws and choppers, tongue for slaw and speech,

bone and marrow, hair and twenty digits

which, with flicks of wrists and rules of thumbs

all carefully compacted apprehended

and remembered, we go icarusing upward

and carouselambling outward outnumbered|

Reynolds? Reynolds? where art thou, Reynolds?

sd Midway, tuning in to the yellowhammering

silence, hey, and he stands at that gate that hangs

agape and squeaks, the frontier of white stone?

Whitestone? now Hall's white apples echoecho,

did he find her, hoping, hands... predecessor...s

ancestors, yes, foreclosure, for themselves, for

closure, close is good, withdrawal, with-

drawing, leadership? Really, says Midway, not

me leaving, I was abominable? No, I was about

to say. Was I? Sorry, so sorry, I am mixed up, 

Conditional. I don't understand conditional. 

Explain. The word was going to be confused

3.2015

Reynolds & Midway 51

I can make a temple or church w my hands

it's easy, but to explain it, not, and I know

what yr thinking: not that thing we did as kids

with here's the steeple and look at all the

people—not that, w fingers waving. I mean

put them together, think symmetry, you are

sitting, look down at yr hands. Put your hands

together, as in prayer, then put some space

between yr palms, make like the letter A w

your fingertips touching equally, force out yr

knuckles, they are the boards, the woode that

made the walls of the church, now look at yr

thumbs: nails are, say, faces looking back at you

erect, standing: they stand close like houses whan

they made those houses huddle together like

people, in Amsterdam Rome Venice Napoli

Madrid Toledo etc. Have you got it yet? An idea

your hands made concrete, or was it the other

way around? Now the thumbs: let us leave below

the knuckles a wink of space, and that shall be

the door, and above the nails—and let the nails

be trimmd— there shall be, if you try, with 1 eye

closed (pick 0ne] a space shaped like a diamond,

perhaps a club, as in cards, not that which with

to beat or mutilate I mean that as in a deck of

to end in a preposition naturally and further up

above where those two little pinkies meet an-

other diamond shape or club, a window—

lookt at rightly, we may worship there.

2.24.15

Smoggy w/ a Chance of Fiery Death

My teeth are swords! My claws are spears! My wings are a hurricane!

the moon in the sky is an eye in a river it sees sliding

by or a skunk in the trunk of a cinnamon tree

he sd, we can't stop here, who's stopping ? Never

tell a tale that it's over or make it so tall that it shivers

and makes of itself an emblem of dynamization

in closed-eyed visions of ere and then and when

when timeternity's chains wheels seeds and gears

grind in black opaque revolve and winds wind revolving

the sky in the river a wing or a tail or a claw or an eye

by its shine and colour you see it's a thing for scrying

he sd, who are you, why are you here and you were trying

to hide but you couldn't because of the bolt of the fire

that from him showed him in all of his decadent glory

who taloned and vast laid waste, breathing, flying

10.19.14

Reynolds & Midway XLI

                       torture me, Father, lest not I be thine! 
                                   - John Berryman, Homage to Mistress Bradstreet  [39]

Fare forward; unmind the lost, the hollowmen.

Who hath not Christ w/in him? Pity him.

& put Christ there, plant seeds & shld you touch,

touch gently, as when He replaced & heald

the severd ear. Be watchful in the garden,

awake, nor sleep like the disciples leaning

lax against the olives, for He Who made kittens

put snakes in the grass (I.A.), now brace your heel

for a good stomping, remember good men,

and good women, persevere, endure,

& gain strength in prayer. O if only, breathd

Midway, I had any, his legs spindly,

fear racing thru him like electric current,

guts a twist. Make sure the badge is straight,

right breast, a rabbit quickly dips its head

& chews the green it bit, off to the left,

sun high, 'round 80°, w sumer iccumin

in, & luhde sing cuckoo

& springeth the woode nu

or some such— Pound's Goddamn

the stupidest thing he ever wrote— to right

Osborne, intersecting Claremont, crosses

everywhere, telephone poles, crucifixes,

crossings, Our Dear Lord dangling at his breast

tapping his heart, that Goodly Fere they hangd

upon the tree, to thoughts of Blatty,

another Billy, fallen to his knees

in tears to see w his own eyes remains

of Peter, how the vision came to him

for Dimiter, wich Midway hath not grokt

& must go thru again, now thru the door

he turns the handle w the left hand,

& first things first: to his immediate left

the water ! O Water of life, he takes in hand

and lifts it gently from the skiddish table

dressd for Cinco de Mayo, girlish boots,

sombrero, on soft browns & aquamarine

or turqoise papery covering the scuffd woode,

yesterday's water at half-level, he grips

the plexiglass beveridge dispenser w spigot

& says his shy helloes to med-tech, business

office manager & personal care assistant,

furtive, his eyes avoid their sacred beauty,

scans faux plants & posted regulations,

last months Easter bunnies & piano,

all the while in his head the secret question,

Will it be fire or ice, as askd the poet

whose lines of stonemade fences & swung birches

frilld the waysides of his slim green brain

along w Robinson's sheaves & Tennyson's

bardic yawping: things like spate spring up:

a young man in the Idyls, whatsisname,

his mother mourning early for his glorious

youth's demeeez, as Bob Shaw's Quint explains

in that seafaring epic Spielberg made

that made him many millions, for remember

God's alive inside a movie (Reid)

& speaks & sings & laughs, to you, mon frere,

to you & only you, so don't be bashful.

I lookd into the eyes of my teachers, all

young & beautifully seal-eyed, soldiers

warring in deserts unwalkd by lean bronzd

legs & bellies of shaded tattooed virgins,

drest in my off-white New Age poet's shirt

hips at a feminine angle on the couch,

I watchd Jarhead & learnd. I woke hrs later

face down, confused, a pain in my right side.

I'd fallen, it seemd, tumbled, as if down stairs—

thought Hitchcock Steps, Georgetown, D.C.

For Blatty & Friedkin's film I'd run nightly.

At last, feeling entrapt, I broke the disc—

Subdermal hematoma, read

the paperwork I clutchd awaiting discharge,

not myself, in ego-loss, wristband to tell

my name loose on my girlish wrist,

purple & red blood raised to the skin's surface,

spredd like a sea, escaped from proper vessels,

below the waistline, 'round the back & belly;

but I was glad for the wound & for the pain

wich wasn't insufferable, my life too safe,

too sound, too pink w health & too secure;

for I was to be as my Lord & welcome pain,

thus grateful: dazzled infant in a gown,

a baby spoilt, coddld & overloved,

sick in the head & stupid, stubbld, red

w razor burn, my vapid eyes scanning

the Windexd glass for whom? For where was I?

& why? & who? Later my father laughd:

whan askd my name I answerd, William.

& last name? askd the nurse. Shatner, I sd.

Late 5.2014

Reynolds & Midway XL

              Extra-large, for Tirds McGee

But he was not ambitious, not this Robert,

& when it dawnd that he was 35

it simply dawnd. Still the woman slept,

& he slid from the never entirely comfortable

starch-stiff sheets, feet on the neat low carpet,

& took a thought of circulation, twinkld

1^st & 2^nd piggy, which one went

to market, which had roast beef, which had none

was in the gloss of never honord promises,

hopefully few, & unassembled features

of faces floating pell-mell that were once

crisp portraits, words & strings of words that made

rememberd poems some were nearly loaves

& [something] space where two could walk abreast

Midway had one or two of Milton's devils'

oratories memorized, not to recite

at school, but for his own good, for we read it

on our own, & like sweet Junketts we were dunkd

in what wld overcome us w such love

that words cannot give proper testimony|

This much is truth, & do not think to doubt it:

This much is sacred: matter, motion, language:

Words. For without words we are without

ourselves, dumb, incapacitated,

ineffectual, inert, alone (Haig)

in bondage to the bone & sinew,

slaves to our primitive & reptilian natures

that scrap & tussle in the skull machine

w those 2 'R's: Reason & Rationality,

this our endowment, our eternal bondage,

stamp of our race & heritage, our commonality,

things we shunnd so long, nearly a half

century blind to this constant undercurrent,

this strong & binding life force Jung yclept

collective unconcious,  Rand condemnd,

wich condemnation we believed was sound

whan we believed too little, or too much.

& so he rose, & while the woman slept

put on his clothes & scribbld a parting note,

and silent slippd into the murky dawn.

But what of him? Only to say he haunts

and stalks the fringes of a work in progress,

a subtext, best forgotten; a confession

of something better not confessd to. Once,

he was the rounded, Mediterranean olive,

a subtle twist of lime in a straight Martini,

an even subtler curve in the arrow that missd,

that whistled wasted into a thicket,

or twangd innocuous in an apple's bark.

Meanwhile the Lord, Who tarried 40 days

& beat the devil silly whilst His belly

gnawd, hath daily witnessd this corruption,

hath temperately restraind His own right arm,

& guided gently w His tender hand

that all of us should keep the narrow path,

forgive the evils done to us, forget

the evils we wld do unto ourselves,

the poisons in the blood that flood the mind

& alter nature, skewer consciousness

w welcome wands that thrill while they destroy,

that bring sweet magic & the bitter dearth

of aftermaths that ring the panic bells

of slow-encroaching sick sobriety—

the dreadful drizzle-dazzle of reality. 

¶ It's then we need, says Reynolds, the godly cudgel,

the loving stick, as Mr. Christian wanted,

that Billy Bligh had tried on that too coddled

tattooed hide that overlong had lain

docile, unmilitant, effeminate,

supperd with lust & calm satiety,

shaded w palms, hands softend by the breasts

of wilderness, his mental state an Adam

among a thousand Eves. I saw them scatter,

in a dream, my wasted billions, a flash of fish,

an instantaneous diaspora, gone

to blackness, blind, oblivion.

4.26.14

Reynolds & Midway XXXIX.

Many & sundry londes Reynolds & I

wd ode had we the wherewithal to gang

our bottoms shipboard o'er the winedark sea

like Herman & George Gordon & Percy B

wha shld've left that barc alone & lubberd

landward longer. We'd've seed us Italy

leastways, that limblike land of leg & boot

the toe of wich has at poor Sicily—

til God decrees that time is up & rolls

the final wave upon the final shore

(Be it L.A. or elder HelsingØr

where Hamlet brooded & Ophelia dunkd

her lovely locks for love) —thereat to ogle

Michaelangelo's glorious Sistine Chapel

& his amazing & astonishing David;

also to wend in gondolas in Venice

wherein we'd take our try at a 10^th rate Verdi,

or who ? Rossini whose quick & famous fiddles

fits in my mind metropolis: vasty cities

of high & skinny buildings varicolord

red & pinkish yellowy narrow shruggd,

shrugging to fit as in Amsterdam or any

tightly clusterd urban centre where

we meaning Reynolds & me might hie us

for we have seen in dreams the sparkling hives

that in nocturnal splendor spangle night

like galaxies, engendering piety,

like necklaces of opals, pearls, rubies,

garnets, spilling, flung wild & wide,

but in most terrible & holy order,

in deepest cold, hostile, cruel cohesion

& balance, relentless eternal life that feeds

upon life, merciless killing, natural death

over & over, death from life, life from death,

but 1 consciousness—GOD—

& only 0ne, diffused among quintillions,

One to Whom all memories remain,

to Whom all grief remains, all love & loss

Is His is Hers to suffer & endure

for all the never ending evers ever

in deeply cold & brutal voids of space

& ancient moldering yawning gaps of time

time to remember, time to know & feel,

in blackest sorrow & in growing grief

that blossoms there among the love & light

that comes & comes again, the hope & faith,

the prayer & sacred music, humming hymns

of children chanting reverent orisons

& bowing humbly in contrite petition

faces to earth, eyes closed to pray to One

Prime Mover & Maker of all that move,

Fountain of Love w/o wich none wld love,

not even Christ, the Paradigm & Son

Who wanderd 40 days in wildernesse

& bested Midway's 0ne by 39

4.14.14

Reynolds & Midway XXXVIII

I or we did @ 1 time declaim

that 8 the # signald single-digitally

was representative of infinitie

when toppled o'er & lying on its side

& then went on to say that that #

whan represented on a digital clock

containd within itself all other numbers.

But here we cannot shew you how this is

and you will need to bring to centre stage

& in the spotlight—that thin lemon wedge

that clever pepil say is consciousness,

the image of the number eight as rectangle:

right angles top & bottom, right & left.

& in this image, all the numbers live,

This attribute is special to the 8

whan renderd squarely, brightly. This we think

a special correlation, and a sign,

and to it we significance assign,

for number eights made sharply angled aint

what was when number 8 tipt over meant

eternity, leastways when eggheads sd

that that was what that then wld signify.

Now are you with us? Do you understand,

which is to stand under, in the light

within wich ray you have epiphany?

Than all is well and on we may continue

and on & on but wither is the ?

Anon says this, other anon says that.

We tunnel w/ anons thru earth w/ stones

& bones, where ancient wood in fetid loam

crumbles like velvet cake, let us go on

& further downward, down & deeper down

where went Clark Ashton Smith & Robert Blair,

Lovecraft & Poe, E. Howard, Baudelaire,

to pungent dark decay, decrepitude

of pile on pile of generations buried

unsung & scantly monumented spirits

under in ooze of gravid mouldering compost

moss & treebark, root & roots long deep

roots downward threading deltaed branches

networkt nature's conjuring consciousness

in progress yet they say w/o knowledge

yet how can that which hath no vision forge

machinery for sight, that wich is deaf

form the ear-drum ? How in unknowing

process persevere to make the eyeball,

no, to grok the need to see, to understand

affects of light, patterns & shapes ? How, in

nonbeing grasp the needs of things that be

or know what being is.   Let us say a beast

w/o hunger will not hunt nor eat for he moves

w reason but w/o purpose will stagnate

w time & space in stalemate, solid, inert,

unmoved, not by necessity, nor desire

inclined to that or this & yet they say

that this is what it is & all  there is,

to keep up rep & tenure, publish proper

papers undefiant, docile & conformd

confirmd to pridefully perpetuate

the status quo : we don't need no unsettled

apples or unstepforded uncomfortable

individuals, no peas outside the pod

to prod the sleepy sheepy massd unwashd

or be a pestilence to them on high

who look upon us from the welkin down

w blessings & beneficence or with

malevolence, black, raveneyed or falcon-

focusd beastly beakd & talond hunting

down & down & redly bloody bring me O

my bring me my arrows o

3.2014