(a bad habit)
(is an instant in the future. ear)
(habit perceiving four parts.)
perfection against perfection.
a perfect Virtue. the slightest
soon. perfect powers. contend
toward an imperfection.
AFTER sleep, we'll see our own reflection. in this ghostly mirror. any one man can turn into his negation. staring at his reflection in the glass. a spirit inside a body or a body inside a spirit. to balance God's scourging the lines of demarcation. between her free forbidden spaces. & the confessions of a cross.
Vespers understood in their vain honor are truly begging a goddess for their soul's extraction. that centre is accustomed to falling on all fours and howling. giving consolation to those fit to indulge such sins.
in my heart, I cannot forgive this abnegation. nor confess the dirt on my soul to a man whose envy has become a punishment. confession after confession infecting bodies tried in a heavenly court.
up the road from grace, men have reverence in skies, heavens, and far off things beyond their understanding. one repetition of laughter commits this sin in order. omitting control for one moment is true sincerity.
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)
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
Popular Posts
-
[1] Daedicarus the attacks will be psycholigical. the inverted apex of a predator's index. & when the storm comes the walls wil...
-
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...
-
you can tell an ideologue by the uneven distibution of their rage
-
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...
No comments:
Post a Comment