Friday, April 27, 2007

A Nonsite

~ with Dave Nolan & Harpers

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César Vallejo (Remix)*

His desire for desire ever
To help the killer kill a
Whole wailing cathedral on
The edge of no desire

In the presence of a mile
Thick spirit dealing with
A helmet/skull/shard/scalp
If I had used the word
Stench revealing all of his
Choices in English with
-out being able to dodge

Any one the never we fail
To penetrate by a self I have
Created to mime life not only
As it is but psyche as it is not
Forgive us Lord how little
We have died if you're missing
Something here it is an even

Better Jesus from a great yolk
Man suffers you God is he
That I am alive that I am bad
With what ability does one stay
Dead they always died of life

And yet I arrive I reach myself
An exuberant political will to
Desire to mend the children and
The genuses the celebrated edge
Of violence that you were living
On nothing and dying from everything.

*all text transcribed and ordered after The Poetry Project's tribute to César Vallejo, trans. Clayton Eshelman.

Monday, April 23, 2007

The Unsalvageable*

~ for Beth Beer Cuddy, Terry Cuddy and Eliza Newman-Saul

Visions come to everyone a voice made “soft white blue”
In the mineral light over water the place your body shone
A finger lake certain ways of place in our talk if we would

Keep talking what would we do if there is a God it comes
Down here for a little while into the head hit with a shovel
Where force wasn’t before speaks to the body out-of-body

--unexperiencing this

A nonsite above our head yours the place where you led
Yourself the families to freedom history is this head float-
ing in the CNN aether made distant by effects we can see

The outlines but not the letters more radiant for themselves
More than anything we can make them say a weariness of
Every monument a wreck of eyes for history mantles us

--seeing the beyond in

Your own devotions in this Terry older effects of print affect
Us substances it is not what words say that was interesting
But what saying does appearing as such with us so constitutive.


On the road for you
And us this water
Gap crossing our shared

Name a country between
Voices honing place
A pit stop forever

Yours when we were
Slower modes you
Started to tell a story

Our lips were a nipple
Around a similar sound
I’ll write though this

Instead you’ll talk to
A stutter what words
Can’t come between.


This highway today
America I feel

We feel so
Far away what

Was refused the
News of it

Wasn’t even enough
Nothing to point

To but to
Feel it happening

This country in
The trees framed

Falser for what
We can see

The first cherry
Or magnolia lining

Nothing what does
That water sparkling

Green say about
The water elsewhere.


Like sound. the bees
Disappeared. two thirds of
Them. the. real hum. of
Their honey. we want
The body to. point to

Parse the body. even. if the
Body is. still. a corpse
We can’t. even find
The corpses. their stench
So should. the. real suffice.


Nostalgia is not a groundwork
For this video no face will be

Healed by lines color hovers
For her eyes like a grief of names

Never given so unsalvagable
Did they open to this distance.


What man’s guts given out
Into the diegesis we go
Social within what is shared

And not shared apart as one
Is all occurrence was out-
side his random death a cit-

izen spilling being's mere
fact “All is lost. What’s
the use”--loss *is* the use.

*the above image is from Terry Cuddy's *The Harriet Complex*