Thursday 8 April 2010

10. Du Rhinocerot


Each time he was seen

The strange man

It was with his circle

He had moved the circle from the plane of the ideal

Into the world

Where buses were late

And teenagers asked directions to Tib Street

No mere circular shaped object for he

The strange man

Always folded his arms across his circle

Never dreaming to roll it

Or kick it along the street with his foot

Each new thing he encountered

Would be bent in an effort to make it fit the circle

Which was how the strange man understood history

And the letter ‘O’



It is glorious

I don’t want to go running and jumping though

In all that gloriousness

Ah ***cough, cough, cough***

I am ill

I shall stay here / Feigning illness

Continuing to pretend to be ill

To avoid the glory of that weather

Out there

So as to be able to remain indoors

These glorious holidays

Reading this book

It is an interesting book



And he will wake up and he will think about the mistakes he has made

He will know that there have been many

He will wonder what is wrong with him that he seems to keep making the same mistakes again and again

He would like to kick the letters

Kick them far. Kick them to the feet of a teammate

The ineffectiveness of the letters at conveying anything that is really important will, at some point in the future, make him very angry

He will recognise the feeling as being one he has felt before

And he will be angry at having done nothing those previous times

He will write letters down and they will make words which will be linked to other words which will make sentences and those sentences will store ideas

And he will do nothing this time either

Remembering that kiss

Thinking that it could have happened yesterday ...

... the blonde detective agency ablaze
at th’arc of lightnings
veronika says
“starfish nor legions” joe cuts his ribbons
short eyelashes long together live
they an island northsouthwesteast
dusk as an oxygen cylinder over
warehouses & pubs kids will kick a
football about & burrow me alien workings graded
husk derive from simultaneous lovers freaking out

Over Time.

speak to Veronika confOerence cttallingo. Hgorgeousélène left Düsseldorf & the sickly antelope evening rush & sets her clock by wash of perfume
s s
ettling down from Mount Olympos. hi you hie

biting into a cake
tanned legs sorrowingly.
i’m never going to be
free

From pain, escapology. silent cinema enzymes

talkative eyes. rancid flames. the kind of mouth that brings failure up its throat anna mendelssohn
a poem of objects that live by magic a.m.
le charme discret de la bourgeoisie
by then i wasnt seeing things i was inside them its got a silver inside & guts remove stretch halfway round the glob
e i didnt love anything more it crazes with extraneous mauve curlicues whipping round circlets braids of applehair

curfew. Theyll disappear.
beauty. sharpening

somnolence the family carries its desired desire in green bags deep down green in deep green & the dogs snore

ottosgottawounddeepdown
h
e
b
l
i
s
t
e
r
shrugs off his pretty ankles. veronika holds them for him & then gets curious ugh they are crawled over with crawling lice she puts ice on them he shoots dice the clocks on the wall flutter & breakup stealthily she puts his pretty ankles into her mouth & shes naked & he closes the curtains & she says dont & in full view of the building work on the roof across from their room they go to sleep
an illusion of worlds
ordnance fuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuuury
how neat the arithmetic of
capitalist exploitation
crush me
i dont dare leave the house for fear of fear ill never be painfree
The song is an example of a parastrophic structure//enharmonic
leopards drinking soup at marble tables with velvet spoons>terroristism.

veronika & susan make love. its it is a wonderful evening. the sky is imaginary yes but its is there & they look out at it from their cathedral. they make love susan holds veronikas veronika’s ugly ankles they are awash with birdsong. reverently she returns them to veronika. the police ambulance crashes from the bridge into psychogeography. if anywhere there to be cease ...

... the interconnectedness of all things. The interconnectedness of café and train. The symmetry of sandwich meats. I am sick of trying to be happy. Eventually the train will take me to the city, an inelegant bee hive and one that is on its way out.

Actually I am not unhappy but am trying to be bitter in print. I would just like to be interesting, that’s all. I am happy because I am doing nothing and I don’t like to admit it. I am doing nothing and nobody is even filming it. I just like sitting and having waiters bring me sandwiches and tea. The only problem is I would like an endless supply brought. I have to make do with such a small amount; snacks the size of playing cards brought in sad little boxes. They go so quickly despite my careful nibbling. The problem is that I would like to be in this point in time for a long time and I have to keep reordering in order to start the clock again. The waiters start to look at me with wary looks. But I am interested in staying here, in the moment before the train comes for as long as I can, perhaps permanently. Of course the train does keep coming and that is a violent disruption with the way they shout the hours down. But I am not fooled. The train goes down a straight line and then disappears in single point perspective. This means we don’t really know what happens at all. We don’t know if they’ve really come or gone, visually speaking.

Then again, there is noise to tell us and the tiny tremors in the metal of the tables. These are things that signify come and go. What I really need is to be on the train itself and then I need another train to pull up so that it is no longer apparent or necessary to know which train is moving when. I need this in the same way that I need to confuse which window belongs to which set of passengers and to confuse which reflection belongs to which window. Let me correct myself -I don’t need to confuse these things. .I need to be in that moment when the confusion ends. The trumpet shall sound…in a minute.

The only issue, of course, is that I’m pregnant. There would appear to be an undeniable progression happening there as my body gains more and more periphery. I see this as no reason to abandon my plan. The trumpet shall sound and the waiter shall bring me jam incorruptible. And the beehive corruptible shall blow up! And we shall be changed. Whee!

the man in the street with a plank
the house with the very tall aerial
the aeroplane coming into land across the sky

it’s very very tired for it’s flown a long way

today these things make me think of you.

where you might be
who you are talking to.
we see your lips slip across your teeth you smile say yes and laugh. it will be spring. over your shoulder the buds filling with green
in another week it will all burst open.

the lighter nights will help

and the women all stroked her hair and cried over her

not like us who also live on islands

your eyebrows graceful as herons coming in

a strange equation.

I am on the aeroplane coming to visit

all the other voices were in his head.

a gentle discourse. one of babbling polluted brooks
a brilliant orange that frothed
about the caught branch.

he knew you would wear the acrobat outfit at the airport
complete with Quetzalcoatl necklace and matching Joan of Arc wig

he only knew you

and that

the game of chess is played between two people.
one person uses the light pieces, and the other person uses the dark pieces.
light moves first, and then each player takes a turn moving.

the Knight is the only piece that can jump over other pieces.
all other pieces can only move along unblocked lines.

The tide has gone out. I am sad for no reason.
I think I miss Düsseldorf the most. The music and the moving lights.
In the damp dank wood yellow daffodils grow
some are just beautiful for the light or scent
others for a feeling of youth or sadness

I love hang gliding over those fields
in a way it tries to capture movement in an image

it sounds like a xylophone and then doesn’t

She has an alibi.
It is 1804 and her grandfather is born one of twins.His brother will die before his fifth birthday.
John Wedgwood founds The Royal Horticultural Society.
German astronomer K. L. Harding discovers the asteroid Juno.
Mikhail Ivanovich Glinka is born

Spain declares war on Britain.

Simply remove the enemy piece from the board and put your own piece in its place. We are still on the terrace.The Tour is not yet over.

Good night love. look I blow the candle out.

You will sing again before long.

No I don’t have an umbrella.

The voice of Richard Barrett is here (& here http://abandonyourtimidnotion.blogspot.com/)

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