by your pity i disgust you. your eyes hang low in shame. and i can't tame the savage circles tossed about the ancient countenances that blame. your eyes debase me and my words in turn debase you. remember a day while we were waiting for the worms like strange attractors encircling a reflection.
i started smoking poetry. anything i could get my hands on. anything to shut my brain up. a tiny book of butterflies. unsettling. like satre's nausea. i am an ontology of food and vomit. a sepia of terms i cannot come to terms with.
mother, your vision rots me, neither love nor hate. but mere control. they think i'm a transvestite, a man trapped inside a woman's body. i don't need a sex change. i need to cut your chord.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1ENMnG2BaTA
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)
Sunday, December 5, 2010
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