necessity is not perceptible. even at its inception it dissolves into everywhere. it returns to the source of its conception and indicates its derivatives in an endless chain of causation itself derived from the super-imposition of the source upon the echo.
what the echo reveals is the necessity of an origin and the desire to remain hidden from it.
the child is a runaway. seeking to design itself. an autonomous significance revealed by a signifier it itself assigns. disguised to operate on the logic of deception. conceiving a reflection which redirects attention from its inception. what it produces it also erases. the act of production is itself an erasure. the erasure itself is also a disguise. which reveals what it erases.
not viceral. but visual. because noise would stretch time. an arduous smile. genetic eggs polish the mirror. the shock of a fatalist's creation. constituted by the power of an egregious machine. impalpable and ever-present. we are spoken by our own tombs. (circular internal). the name encloses meaning. (quadrilateral circular). a sudden wake which drives. (quadrilateral box within a box). surveillance to correct degrees. (internal circular). vibrating with involuntary reflexes. (quadrilateral internal circular soap smell penetrating person). a profane heaven from within a dream.
the tendency for all systems. to decay. in time. erode into nature. swallowed by the earth. and dug out of time. we are a memory of art and facts and clock plates flooded dusk and we might have been one piece. but nature abhors a vacuum.
it is a religion you'll never know (globe modeled) how badly i care (man made mottled global perfume) about not caring (even when) parellelogram diagnal imitating madamoiselle is dead.
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, January 31, 2011
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