How many gods from your torso to mine?
My church nurtured around your name.
Europa and Mary collect suicides
collapse into elbows,
being sacrificed with mutinous lambs.
I am married and you are not here.
I am noisy as a poison
annoyed as an aimless sensation
Emulsify again.
I ployed what the thing suckles from me.
You were not near my function tonight.
eternal mother thrust crosswise
my moistures yapping sunburn
How many boys from your step to mine?
My teacher turned around your terrorist.
I am foiled you are not here.
I am beaten as a waist
hollow as an augured source
desires to collect
on the sunburns
soldiers ploying on warriors and Marduk won’t compel them
eternal as spirits poisoned with manifestation
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)
Friday, April 30, 2010
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