Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
Monday, March 30, 2009
postmodernists in love:2005-6:dt
in a pit with no bottom. every point is a center. everyones in hell because they loved. this moment now inside you. flat. insipid. nothing much. i cannot get enough. though there’s a train coming through. the small dark light at the end of the tunnel. all nameless under heaven rest. the word made flesh cannot be eaten. nor dispossessed of emptiness. thick. quick. maudlin moans. are the tale of a tear. running away from us. our eyes are close. impenetrable. even if you strap on a strap-on. because its better to burn in hell. than rain from heaven. two masochists together cannot last forever. unless one of us does unto the other. that which we’d have done to us. but we’re both whole thoroughly holes.
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