Part III: Worms
my myth book is a bite dictate
my resurrection advance
is nearly in the black.
nobody saves
to get out of the pit,
nobody believes in the confusion curse
nor questions the dissection of the echo
even my watching mother competes
banging from the threat of fleeing
predicting like a predatory panic
tingling along a wire of spines
the minimum silence
this ice, sliding and dancing
in a body carrier
of blood like lava
from a poisoning victim.
there are echoes on either side
and you are standing in an elongating line
you are standing inside an esophagus
you can smell gastric juice
the walls are oozing with slime
martyr martyr.
sin like an epiphany fiction.
my fiction lied.
my fiction is now lying.
rewritables pile up.
tell a fiction enough times
it will evaporate into thin air
it will hush like noise in a whisper voice
it will cradle over and over.
it will turn on itself.
it will begin with itself.
it will end with itself.
here is my sphinx riddle:
my name is this.
my name is this.
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, March 4, 2011
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
Dave: Look at you. You're sitting at your desk staring at several books. None of which you feel like reading. Dave: Yeah, I know. I need...
-
all is vanity so said the LORD (praise me) men put bitter justified rejections over sunshine flaming sword upon a dove the only shade is a r...
-
you can tell an ideologue by the uneven distibution of their rage
-
when logic and proportion. collapse into your chaos. i will bleed a new math. from the voice of suffering. in crimson patches. the word made...
-
[1] Daedicarus the attacks will be psycholigical. the inverted apex of a predator's index. & when the storm comes the walls wil...
No comments:
Post a Comment