there would be a docket. & prisons to protect us from ourselves. & the prisons would overgrow their fences and become the immediacy of bees. whose woes render a cadence of screams. translated into a history. trying to forget itself. one personality remains. an automatic intercourse: the techniques of a deaf ear & an insatiable heart. the only kind that rises from nature's egos.
this perfection of shame. is a red spiral.
a song made by minstrels
who rotate & revolve
against a white background
that traces its origin
to some deity's disturbed perfection
or else an impulse
void of reason.
a circling.
a manufactured predictability.
reason creates nothing. circular John implies heathens: THE GRACE that ovens the Gibean Mischina. bifurcated lapidosus. mirror logick on symmetry slates. Pius the despised. Pius the exalted. Speechless portions of Magog reflect the GOD whose mythological crying. is the water of this world.
Jezreel ellipses out of existing copies. where the forgery of an oracle's divination creates histories. the CANDYMAN's fields where minor deductions define lawful measures. Dionysus Logick. laborious victorias. infolding imputations. every value.
Pockels identities dwelt in mutual punishment. prion anxieties existing in sustained debts. your MAJESTY'S will is working infinities into minstrels & cryogenic laws make intercourse with men.
PUBLIC organic
median idiom
loyal emulation simians
last in the pecking order
of a PRIVATE Government
whose pride writes dictates
out of fits of transactions.
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
-
xxxxxxxxhis enraptured final hush and multiply itxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx xxxxxxxxxxxxxxand ruin the fruit of his mother's laborxxxxxxxxxxx ...
-
the syndrome of a pendulum fashioned by a bad reputation. praying like an angel to a bomb urinated from a strangled star. love is pain. and ...
-
Fork Tongued in loops of wire he nods&nods&nods which was a pity since he should have shook with rage at ...
-
all gone out to hide since I relished aesthetically pleasing sandpit with being reminded of wine this mixture eventually led me to...
-
What do you get when you cross a cross, with a spiral, with a 3d starfield? A gyre! (If my thoughts on the subject are to be believed) DOWNL...
No comments:
Post a Comment