mona was discovering

Mona was discovering and discoveringthe collage of face and the sentiment of shared spaces ofMontreal deterritorialized and fished in the moorings of desire, and her nights were down with him, and Satan and the other desire-machines of miracles and love bodies.

Dis_vocalizing? discovering/ run of fate?
come again
disvocalizing. Sheep on the herder bend brige. A sliny to mete out her fates and winds. Cabbage road, sour grapes, discorder notes on the old ovarian flute. Trained by gods and sealing the fast past of its capture.


Jill is hired

In her stead, Jill gets hired. She writes
a text of prostitintuition bearing her gifts
of three wise whores. the whores of Paris,
marriage and shake a leg toe. So some day
she 's meandering around the 5th (
arrondissement for those of ya who dont get
the slang) wagging her arse, when along comes
some hobo looking for sexual. Jill shows
her sex part, this time its male to a male!
what is this mail of armour and sidekick?
was she the sidereal bitch of her own self
shimmy shimmy shake? was she the
imitator of her ass?

Antigone in the audience laughs
watching this silly whore flay herself.

M_ 'get's fired

M gets fired. shock therapy. no hands. no face.without a body he can.not .breath. her taste. shes thousands of. seconds. with seconds is jazz. et dea th. the slang. of usual everyday absence. in q.c. lesbiennes d'acid the lake of leeches where they lived. in preten'd. first time. farce. second time tragic farce!

Jill came by in her skirt wearing my calendar down. Writing was the blessed becoming there only was.

I listen to t.v. much of the winter. heading for drouth. offf. her bodies. capable cripple to my own. unable to come at a distance. near must be far. what speckled non status Indians are these. yer teeth flooded the dark.

Glow'd at Anti. Anti and Mona

were becoming blessed boots!

Remember the Almout! Remember Mona has a future! What sickly delire recals such sloganzing song slave.s. But fun's gotta be had! remember the Alamona!

Hail blithe servant!

Mona gives us a come-hither look! at last we are free.


de lire lire de

it was a racist delire the first time
it was the energy flows she imagined as she
arrived to him imaginin a prophet's status when it was
only the paranoia of compulsion not the strains of

and the racist delire flew around them

she was thinking she was a prophet doing

the Lord's own working Mona was shuttering the shake
over the alcoholic path the schizerno dub of her bother
and pate her hang down glance at him she sUcKed HiM Up
her SoOtee eyes in her sexy paved laden mouth
a flute peerd ouf lalling his tongue to her neck
like a ny vixen he is her wolf and tongue to her lover
is his

Something like this sketch drafter, a shrunking thing
on the studio floor where betimes between her legs
although now middle aged he'd found her and her bliss
glad ready made at the touch of his lip, his kiss
not this cleft cliche ridden forest hes's been jammed
in so long he dont know to get to split to scram
vamoose hit the road, bust a toe etc. etc. a machine
desire made to

O come her and jamboree my body
Come to Mama he cant find her breasts
what Oedipus this of love between them again?

turn on the radio my lover and come with me
mingle our bodies breathing over the air-waves're sacred

racist delire

when she came to him the first
time a racist delire surrounded their daily dialogue the
unkempt night its one hundred book of revery &
calm when desultory as a lamp

she reared up
hitting him across the face
where shadows sobbed

she was a black princess of voodoo and charm

he was a pincer of pieces a double sexed king
in his double wound body a thousand tiny
fearless sexes heaping his

when the pilgrim swore he'd had have no more of it
the waves took away the delire the
reposed part free at last

but Mona 'knew' as any harlequin picaroon
knows racist readings dont spoil that quick
quick and dead of their folly were rising
again on the last day their day

loving both and many


a happy 'ending' was not the best
policy in the city of doubloons
and polity was not something that worried him
endings were starts in the machine of fits
and mismatched cases

mood and number gawked

in heaven
their twisted selves matched very good,
very well.


queries the hour

Franny Jill:

sculpture still

stammer stinger the

finger mouthed word
its side slope bent
trilled around its
nape socking wet

a hole filled with places
queries the hour

as two frames per second
love's matter
crushing debate
dorm and dale
the weekend alcoholic

gaunt as prayer with its easy arms down
she wends a careful plate of spaghetti
down to her knees laughing at the
awful power of her super-ego
knowing she's trapped by lace boudoir and the guilt making machines of underwear and feet, not wanting
not able

her I

buried 'deep' in her cortex
s left of it defeated by her something to hang
on her Opera hat
a staggering amount of fruit over the
arms on shoulder she looks over
the fort wall high above her
looking down into the plenty of abyss

Clan of breath bares
the window

clerk of high brow
& low
silent gram idea of


Clerk of carry
a hand
weaving in dark

Jill looks that over with Mona's disapproval
a found object on her route of finder's weepers
near bus and boat she finds her lover.

happy ending end happy


Jill indeed

Jill's wife writes to her self __ And Other

.. its part of the between and the line
part for whole
whole for part
head for feet
feet for heading down 'south' ideas it's to head
North to your head
upside down


Trembles in the earth the wring of thought.
Velvet champagne glass of its
hand to your tousled hair
in the yard
of thousand year century.

Echoes the blast of

Felix Guattari the Second with your navel
heart to blank your thoughts.

Some twisted briar
the sign inside out and then

be fore the d

your hand.

Funny, eh?

Jill was mouthed with funny.

If you can't take a sky
take a boat .


is not reduction
but a seduction that's lost its head
face forward falling licking the street
kissing dirt hair crashing over the
gleaming demeanor of possession

a captive without a glance
a rear ward look caught in the crippled
cavities of its fingertips
So on learning this,
Jill wires her thesis kick arse that
she was, (a tumbles down dame in
a stumble down bum lane)
about love and its navigators
and sometime summer aviators
or other racket backers and safe crackers
with her alcoholic schizogenic blues .

but what hermeneutic pool of delight
adds to the dish of her taste,
a mouth swallowing an apple
an apellate at the court
or rods and words that dont work no more

what burst of benison? what burlesque of
benign bs?

a con artist she was. swindler to the
highways of her laughing.
never writing an original toast
but always dragging in her wake
an ancient misery.

blather of bother causes her calendar to

Antioedipus in the meantime
washes his clothes of the sour gown
of her remains the baby breasted milk
of her tits taste not his crepe sole boots
but the dainty left of her remains.

Remainders. Or memes on sale. Pitched the yard.
hurried the fork. cut the mustard. worked the pulse.
staggered the wheat the forward belt of her name.

You know what I mean?


the Return of Marconi

The return of Marconi and the ham radio operator!
what? blink is this spry between the eye
of its offensive tame weird awesome
boy oh man amazing charged bitching good
terrible two's thunder and god shes whatis
that ?

the cables thrust arming underward
the water its gavel dust of the ocean floor

Hmmm? we 're not sure of that Mister M.
What says her ears plugged to the machine
its missing.

Not more later.
Later not more.


Keep it light sonny boy
camber the height from between your legs
hunger will always come to be your name .

just see this


Just see this

and be over the air a helicopter

brilliantly shivering over the bay

atop the sky not brilliant

like the 'gem'd' blue of shivering

diamonds .



the displaced spy of her hands offers air

or sudden softenesses
her hands possess
around her hips

other navigations
spheres of taste to clear
the heart piece
its repose in his face


of this & that
she makes shapes


out of her elbows
her cockamammy self


narcotic narrowness
her moist meadow's
the place for him to follow



Other wept spaces merge in Mona's pillow,

her dear self down



from presenting future to past

plateau 2006 forward the past 2005 .



how do you catch up with the past? she asked. was the
asking the past already caught to the future's folding
becoming her face mouth eyes that peered near
the thing?

was it that which sorrow'd the thing

her body called to his again


unnamed parts saying his

his saying his future was her song definite
in the air

(Mona having no control over the space
of the text let it go
its own desiring blossoms


closing time

Substitute forgetting for anamnesis Mona perched
her head over the side
of its hang

glidin' to the start of the bend

caverns & coups were all she knew

Dang! shouted she ,a real southern belle
desire's only cloud her fussing make-up
her mascara teared by runnels of
her kissed powder puff.

a Huff and a hoof were near the scent she knew, a language
clocking outta her mouth, a Brooklyn accent and
a cheese grinder, no, a cheese spider? no
a cheese flavour in the middle in the way of her
and I. Mona knew it was something
like lettuce, or beans, or fava beans,
or even avocado. Sometimes her hair
shone like the sun does when it's about
to run grey sheets across the rain.

Closing time was she worried her desire buttons
along hurrying the hour of song.

Was that it, Anti? Antigone was her other
summer name and her body sang his song.
Her lover. Her son, he would be lover of long.



yer love is a desirE -machine . what is this?
asks Jil to her father signifier the silencer
of death Silenus to mouths open
trailing loves drag open wheels
to marry the thought. prose works better over the screen its
the medium who speaks to the seance spooky lovers
clutterin' the air . Signifer father woos
the nagging wheel its pear a shape of
buttocks and sloping bodies
flank to flank _ our hearts are humdrum
hearting _ her glance out twinkles
the careful night. Leans over
she bites into a page of strawberries
a woman's body bumps into hers
briefly. She is lesbian poetry nights.
hearts to heart funnel to funnel
becoming babies body .
O tear of love
O tear of lust!

two bodies bound
two wove


Dance the naked lovers

wheel over the state of its



captured plane heart

captured plane
once upon a time was a heart that stalked yours
as a worker leaves his job saunters
home easy going
happy the day is done and
sun shines over the road
glances off his head thoughts of love
and care're far & he ambles like
any other night worker would

when the earth its kind self
scatters the words of letters
showering on his body
the whoring night

desire purgers his soul
ends the simile worked up
its trek over hill and fail
of noun and heart
has no place for the jacked up sex
the dunged down heart
wished over worked over
each perpspectiv e
not one preposition frees
his face but remains a frescoe
of desperation & disappear


when the

when the queen of parlay when to parliment
mente was not found
nor cunning drapes of total

so it was the day was night
over the hem of skirt deceit

was easy for slap ass
fair weather one
to hail fellow friend
in the slopping boat of isms
defeat & repeat

to betray the one who has loved
not to kiss ass
hence the vain and useless

aint rocket sincere science to
figure that one out is it,
her buggered eyes bugled
hysterical dreaming
easy outs three plus one left none
not even hips to
chop chop chop
the body
long's day

Incest and the clannish
clutter of them

was not Mona's opera hat style

and so



not your guattari complex but
your inferority hypocrite
plexiglass deate with death

O Jill willit wear out

at last?

its suffering brought on by



can di date

you were the candidate of desire your soul a parliment
a Queen in the throne of your part
constitutional monarchy of the body without organs
the congress of penury your thighs my mouths
a thousand organs to your hurting cells
the rough stem of its treat the held back
need for our hopes and body
you were the prime minister of this decree
a church of cardinals and lady bishops bore
my body across the crucifix of your long
martrydom the body of your disease
cutting your heart in half a thousand weaving
bodies open from your need

an M.P. was wearing her body
on her sleeve feeling sorry for herself and love'
s songits rough belong O weird prophet
A priestess of congress a Repulican desire
to your matching sex to mine a maniac pole
swung from hate to hate love to love

U see it was capitalism that decided you
had to be a prisoner and put me in debt for it
wearing the cufflinks and handcuffs
the debtor's gaol of its head hang around my noose
of its teeth to end my song choke my throat
jailed by the jerk of love
again like my book of old and new
old and new ode and blue as the blue
which care takes your heart
my darling of rights and territories not a force
for loving but a bane of bearing


Not deluded into thinking this metaphor was complete
a n artist was murdered by Capital. And fuck off. Fuck off
was nursing its plot to assassinate the . writer. of words
freedom to compose and unmake . its beauty. not mad cow
delire of media broadcasting of sculpture to the
heart of cowboy's and girls shared bed. here it's here
the bed you want.

Wanton girl . be a silence of open. of

Moan at the night's heart. not the news
.but bliss. Capital objected lineing up
the police to arrest the desire . a priest the male
kind running the boxes of molarity charged the rent
gang busted the clear free ones, the allegories
of. the professors clamped off the poetries ordering w
words words
how to work
. to work . to work. slave map camp .f. obey the
rules. of your capstone of clap death.
What? shall be the meaning of Mona's hearth
her open hat

Mona's Open opera hat .

against the thousands of droves of death


After we'll add more to this machine
the china of grasses grace and


deletE this boDee

delete this body repress its sense her ass in the high flung
his legs spread to the cheeks (cheeky bold brat) of its destiny
the body stinky the pee peeof capitalisms pee pee in your dangle down
stairs the rotten pureility of oral not aural's afraid of the flow
which gushes to her mouth a thousand covered cemeteries the others
manic teeth has never enuff the ontology(ongology gargoyle)
(head sticking out shit of capital death stretch o
f gargoyles base hate) of capital's arse gone
mad. mad's too mild a word to press the shit that hit the fan
of organized dead, or organized bodies control
wee capitalists grips grapple the hand
shes reached to his sex into space ofher haunt

SuPer EGo __ You SHall Have No Other Gods Or Capitalis
before ME I am yer Boss
you little SHit
you Ow yer Being to I.

Owing the debt of endless gratitude of
guilt the machinery smashes the bodies
in the cities over the way away
here the endocolonized lives her guilt
a shame of love's economy the disasster of hate
jealoulsy's other name
she wishes her teeth were dead

some salamander of. a preposition exscapign
a spaghetti vendetta of duel. not deux
or exmachina or sex machina normacly's her pay
she sarcasitic is hip positive the duke of
darking dares and boring as the toe between her
feet she chases his seek

delet this finger of capital the shit's fan
waxes the death of its feet the measure
its hate
the somber silly of itsword made gasp
the endless tone of drain
the abscess of shite and other pairing doves the erection of
the god was sitting in the cloud the eye gawks out of the dollar
holding her back hostage to her fear
hostage Mama to her lament
she waits for her heroine lesbian song to end
his homosexual freedom a domain of restless belles-lettres
and song. O song of bong the broad bored repeat &
broad band retreat

Shiver me limbers the legs of your sex are clipped
with the key . COme to me free m.e Love.r.
free me of . your money's capital. I. eye.
and nintend the powder.

Mother are you not my loveR?
ellipssis was Oedipus in mater dolorosa
jesus song was bate to the prick
in hand the ass taken cunt kissed
valley of bliss and blossoms of her sex lips she shadowed with no words
t'explaint this his body of her body her hand a mouth to Oh the breaht the Ah impossible Sky.
So there then.
Kiss me Mother. for I have sinned your thighs. Oh come me mother. For I have. Oedipus. recondite sigh


Fourteen is the ray

Fourteen is the ray of life the tumbling jazz
the squeaks percolating over the side of
the calendar falling into space
the reach of rule and

Jill was the savior of mankind. Mankind,
was womankind man kind in her heart
tiger clawed stacking holding off his incident
and paring knives was the toothsome
little the dream of conversation
ticked by hearts and rubbing rides the old man
the sky cloud the train station’s barbarian
pushes the near to far wearing its crofted gown
senseing the wires of tents taut as the bare
skin of lovers

On city spaces on top of a roof she waved she fed
her gown he could see her so he could see could see
her body her sex worn to him in the night


across the eyes grown hazy with the blather .

let the words find their own place.


wld. wish

Hears this in the timber __ the word call

wld wish to harm and hurt, deny the lying cover the rubber sound its
phoneme garnered by waste hurting him the whacking inflicted pressed by envy into force against the vital lover of your hate the body of his beauty knocked against your death you spilled like a tart made of capital's crumbly pie, you called it

not to suppose it was the murder of your tawdry self the simple economics of your flick, what said Jona, was this? Jona? Mona? Mona Jona Mona was the harp of ugliness bodied in the geek of her.what? was some harmonica playing the back toes of this date? detach your hate, your recorder figured into the sun of the fifties and more its secure in the fastness of then to photograph its truth

we're not in the business of criticism but the real economics of desire the power of pain the body guttering at its last hour, breath stifled in each emergency lake . I wld.not call it dread apocalypse but reality.
and suffering the little children to come to me the little libidos

Whoosh Wave
whoosh Wave
Whoosh Wave

hear it water hear it water hear it water gurgling waves plash up and

forth not the preen of leather but the flicker of lungs breath wave

she lost his sunset in her head, when saying bye-bye the clicking fun was past its tense for her sunset was a by the lake death knell. was this the joy of ringring ring he'd hoped for in his rope climb to planet to day the world as it spurns the dust to dust life

Ooh hear its candle

quavers the grass

the yellow


the across fields gaze

over loft and death


Afterwards hearts

this was the assault of your body on his pain

after all this

and after all that

Don't scroll back, scroll forward, the unconscious's
turned to thee

f ut ur e .


Jill tearing her hair out. Guest text, ghost house. Mouth house,
matlet chum, the callous brain.

why shld. yer body hurt when there is pain,
so much yer not able to breath nor see its shit
walking down the stairs of death?

was this the oomba of blabla? or the spine of
use? was the chair a link in the brain
caught in the pants of her sex,
sex with him she wanted day night and her mouth

some other place an escaped stamp helder
held the concentration camp list
when the fence blitzed back the death

otherwise bible was hatred of night gulls
hovering over the stinking yard of the factory
yer factory spitting out cold heat
tits and cuff by death

Jill's killing fire
kiln of its mouth
spat clay to back
her only orient sense
was its sweeping dress across the floor

Concentration Camp guard

You what?
you shit poetry
you bleed verse
you fuck words
fucked over by their ass and cock
their cunt and breast
the tit of its word in yer mouth
like a child
oh yes like a child kidded by the prelude of sense
the wordsworth of sense not the
moneyed down american sense of language
but the free spit of its shit

will then yer repressssssssssedd pepsi please sin
the shit of its peers?

was grant the immance of canada the death?

get yer ass over here you
little bastard its time to shoot your ass
dog you to death
line yer head and guts up line up their asses
for the death the spot dead in the head
the bullet head

No, guard. I wont.
Come to my face
kill me I am death
kill me
I am sentence
I am sentence

Come to my kill guard
I am death
its mouth breath



to my head horn.

Its death .



seven pm the body dies severn the ghost walker the
phantom wanker pah faphantom fucker escape the body
knees crushed not by the dead but the living
shaped into death's spitting god the bombers come
droppingtanks fire over head shit flies in the
tits exploded asses all bursted busted
war time kick ass dead zone try and find a verb for that
atomic explosion of language broke as busted
pipes cuts across the ass in the book head of yer face
John the Cousin resides in death's alley up yer arse
of withered penile canals starved stone one on the street
shes strafing the death of her sex
but we wont say love is like that love is torture
not the paralyzed mute of your song
rip it out Mr. President the death chants come
to the bodies of outer space the Ism heros
and Isms controllin the planet of death rays
and squad hatreds the goons come from outer space
inner death devade the
pain of its spiting word shit in yer face
to awful the terrible night of its body
as it hates yours

theres no body here no bawdy
but the pain of repeate frustrate killer lonesome in the street
its death box the death of your addiction some May summer night
alone the raped body sounded, it christed the addicted body of its
space not the cheap laments of prestige or I want to be yer ass
can I be your fuck what shit is this? what shit of assleak
comes to the space of shit death
and sperm face the wasted dog the wastrel of pees peeves and piss
its shit song of no breast to shape the mouth of
lover and fear
body blanked blinked fear to death
must lost pronouns
its shift cut shit as Guattari sits down to supper
hate spilling from her plate
she cuts the nose off the staring Eye in space
her rare skirt adead end song the knees stiff
as dead cockroache

then the cock goes into nothing nothing
grabs the weight and Opnes mouth wide
five dollars dilly dally fifty cents
her wide legs spreading
not a lyric tune but death melodies
threnodies like a concentration camp
its the piss of repression
the fake tawdry phony song it wont relieve

this body of jurors is yours

what does it mean

Orpheus crossed examined by three judges

Judge What do you do?

I am a poet

Judge(puzzled) what does that mean?

It means to write and not be a a writer

Cocteau's Orphee replies to __ Judges .


in the afternoon

Saw all this Mona with a bone in her __ thigh to thought she was stipple grace of breeze in rod dragging the post of her names the box of rolls, and the amber of her inside heart . and her outside pump. her groin to her theatre house. does the guest house breath the popinjay _

fluttering down to the margin .

Each hour was a postcard
when tumbling for the afternoon air was Jill's clandestine
body . And to his too.


guest | 1865

Jill stared sideway ||yes sideway, not sideways not quite three quarter profile but twisted stuck not quite a head, turned __

A ghost house (ghost whore,bordello of fantasm) where the hooligan of a guitar strayed troubled pressing the narrative of its invite.
A breath wooed the lingering of its touch or
scented the awesome major of its tonic.
Ironic, a king's life repriev'd by petitions to heaven long gone,
worked. The kingo commands a last midday.
Massacre & slaughter day bloodied trunks will have their hour
of doom and foiled foal a mourning, but not now.
A whisper trunk to deaths.


Night hawks tucked in coign and frieze the
hour of sorcery its best sober ambition
sombered by the iron rungs
unsexed heart throat cutting up the
arms and limbs the heart spewed
out kidneys liver
not lover's gloves wear these things
her hands that did this also
played lover. In a forest a den, now she'
s a prison hen, strutting and slutting .

Double-dogged warlock demon.frog faced, rat's arse,
carries the bloody in her brain. oozes its
head.her busy hubby's soul crashes wall to wall in a white cell.
the candle they burn the dust they eat.

Hear the hour they did in. Cackles the end.

Clang clang brazen unhinged its door
come at last the fast past slices the
skin off its anatomy, raving
burst forth, a head
busted with a goddess .

Bang Bang death in the wings
O dear is the fox burnt its chalice a gloomy wronging
of the heart metal jacket.

What forth is this? contagion and witching ear a splattered newt
pig squealing its guts


In the street below the narrow face takes its form
a design of death and other tricky states of
metamorphosis .

Jill glides her telescope opens the wrong end a sighting
microscope worn at her side, her body undoing,
its figure not literal the lies of her send .

Becoming microscope telescope periscope
vessel navigating under-tides her
body a stew for his coming becoming
knight and day.
Fathom under fathom shovels the water,
pushing back its body rough sea .
Her mouth to his.


‘the themes enunciated in the text’

bone tired _china blue the eyes september fill the cab
over sun and set between a clue to lust the need
curling forward _ over dappling
the fun folding fan _ its heart navy blue
or magenta and other things her hair is used to
cyan the colour cling

eyes into brown huddle the haz
el of hue not the receipt of phonemes by buttons of
belly or a gender to splendour the party
body naked as a cross a cross
naked as raffling shoulder or collar-boned

winged eyes it descends lifting down
a spy

Niveau the post office
sea port and salt



Jill handle the throng.Switches upstairs bares her breast
the postage stamp. Why stop at meaning,
when you have so much more?



Above her head over the rune
looks Jill,
gazes askance, tries the text,
draft night speckles the piece. crowd the room
of busy flowers that is its heart,
a friend standing in the floor.
shift lamp its hum-drum driver .

crowds .

conversation mackles into the doubling of eyes,
leviates its perception
a penguin walking in the storm
divine sight caped in its hearing
whirl the dust of tenement
takes .

Jill flutes her age. Oboe of mouth sidelong in the rear end of a truck
the blood boils as they're wont to state, a moment of fearing disembarks the silence of their name.

where page like crinklings begin and end, the preconscious body hovering as its gets to love, its expression holding.
the mouth. back.

potatoes and giggle the warmth of the hearth.
what saddle of rings is it for Jill to presage
flare of nights forever young love.

If the captive's arms are covered with flowers,
they're the flowers of porcelain.
speaking its name desiring their purgation.

carried by the force of its husking .

its ivory shoulders.

Mouth to mouth Jill.

this one

The space and time of your flag is gift
is god is the time and space your work

this song its work
its fruit and fair,
the yearning finger of fate brought back,

this fruit and flute of pass and take.

How then the night meets its mates trembling its passion and please,
the simple god of its might
the tabernacle of its theism
its rioting clamour .

Not velour but the blue of teeth .

Praise the night, its chairs chiarorscuros and tempers
its flighty manger and choir of tundra
its manager of love and other squares
the succulent breast of its beast

the suave tear of its teeth.

This pray is its host, its bare backed camel ride hoofed to heaven
all the road heavenly as its spare part tap tap tap is the song
of heaven _ all the way to heaven's heaven, not poppycock
or lament or the clan of complaint.

Busted up broken thing that makes a thing
working hesitating hesitating whistling dark in light
the long brave hair of your night
O my child and stare


The space of its anatomy
churns the reaching

An image riding in the sun,
moon hanging galleon eyebrows
that furl
a walk staring away asks .

What are these words which twirl spin top twist and share? Be rutheless, cut a word, do not reform, do not perform, go direct, directly to the cut.

the limber beat of its self
No matter what you say
the forms shape themselves

curtain moon capture air
its speed a pediment praise
not the gallivanting tom-tom of weirdos and repeats
their fair beat a wrinkle in the paste of things and
their 'maitres' masters of past tense and future
guttersnipe of gather and giver


Pause between hesitations the trope
a miraculous plate
or repeats the selving triples double black jimmy
the hustler's route
the boot in the guts and the gimme gimme gimme

Under sandler's avenue the boardwalks trade
scamming the rear for the forward
collecting their prisms and lens .

For every Mona built ten come undone
Each Jill searches her century its tenderness gone a maximum weight for a maximum dollar .

Prose in the eye poetry in the ear, rhythmic grace over
the tinier face . Splashes its terror into the rendering of choice,
its tender relief its batter, its justice and fair .


Mona reels at the tender nape of its shape finding a knight in her name, knowing she's had a vis


Jill tickles the tape of kerning .



knit the hand over the weight. carry its pith to the door

Or weaken the space, when Franny
was listing her heave ho shoals lifting
books from the libraries of fairy worlds
and her brow was mopped with his kerchief.

And tiding wares had not fared their wheat
what was the tingling sign in the street
which fickled each pate a long daddy down
in the oasis of sound?
was her hard heart a laggard to boot his boat,
queued by bastards mustering day
its noun afraid of clocks and wear, and over the old days and frightened by herds she came on a state of his frock knocking his pop up head
out some slipped up cadence to suit his rhyme not a case of popular song, flipping mansions and judicious schools. Of fish, of planets and pdf's metaphor of scurry not strong. Or so the idiolect inside of her cheeks
was the converse of her body's turn around pose to his loving September cloak. Or winter's clarion call to summer its barren ape a snow
bird painting the white allegory .

A title for her doctor spiring the castle of
hearts and lions panting or pacing the last
power of its momentous earth.

A louver to hear the wind

closing its



If such prisoners made the page, light thighs were not the wintered
care of his lust over the hill and grief of his wanting.

So Franny knitting her ,

Franny ,

Franny drew hi m .

hefted by walk

what clamber of shape is this?
a long thing dangling

is that the precipice of her love?

was shape the narcotic of his vision?

what climate the taste of her tongue?

In seedling time the berries warmed over of fort and da the seconding
fate of mirroring knight.Ss. He wasted the absence of a word clad language the emblematic .

Not what else, but what is, and how. Machinings worried her
sense of fair play, by rivering errors where no planets traded their
goblins forever. Some ovum was that coasting along the endometrium
of her body clung to his, the clinging sigh of her hate,

the sting.

what on earth are you going on for? I'm not Mona's play thing,
but someone eating pork chops on a Sunday afternoon in midsun
and carrying a plate to the gods, the institution of its power,
and what mouth is that, may I ask. Living light
beckons the mirror of its place,
shadowing the night of its wrong, so he imagines
a machine tied into her body's moral structure
as opposed to her deterritorialising hands
hefted by walking and sauntering
the trail a falcon muses over.

Hold that lamp higher, feel the rightness
of this encounter.
dinner this day
was the gratification of bellies and summer.

You would not wish to hear anyone,
after these maids.

Was summer pilaster the colour of hair against her
auburn thighs, I burnt my eyes.

Now Mona, who is Jona, Jillona knows
nothing about the frantic creator's pulse
a baking bread saucy ruin, lee ward
keep moving fast


The tic-tac-toe of grace.

stripping and receiving

wait said Jill not Jona! up the stair she dangled her hair and cross hair bulls-eye to his love, busting the gut over of his pot of flowers. Stippling the night

why the night, said Mona, nodding to her self's other box, the paradox of quote and rebuilt corrals. Corrals when something or something else was looping in the intense plateau of singularity and its shifting carriers. Some stripping is this, the hoary .

Wait, no not wait, said Jill to her Mona, her 'other' face glares at the mouse in the trap that quirked her body, draggin her magnet to a death like vigil, not a silence of care, but one of compulsion and sickness.

So keep your hidden wrath in your cranky heart. We
take a word whack out its dead senses of useless.

As the economic of succulent afternoons prepare her creeping waves, the ornate hit of its cart. A cart to whirl and jig over cities of well-built naves . The troops ,
the troops are not burial sites, but well-known players in the dead ash of her
betrayal. Some exile of former knowing and lesser entering.


It was dusk as they lined the bodies in the window, molecules scatter'd scared,
not a host of them left, leaves crackled in the chair, the somber dust settling on their heads,
no memory .


Jill just husky voice coming back over the air,
fits herselves body into his



monstrous cabin~nets

what ?

monstrous demonstratrice cut over crass


Jill thumbs the absconded tray
smooth over her face jaw line
unnatural partakings in the eye of her body
swings around her halo head
calm as amethyst

clear as clutter
littering the stage of her hair


Jill thumbs up riding the wave of philosopheme, vampire
vacuole wafts the scent trail of her hand line
offering the monstrance of god's desecration her body before
ours in the she wit of banter .

Puffs on a lung she does, lugging the sentimental journey
(cigar huffing dragon)before her laminating edges,
her heels and ankle,her trousers were tattered by cross-weaves,
easel touch in her ear's sight. A conch
a shell a ruin.

Hail this blasted hammer of the edge where dizzy she swayed
the seeds of time's arial bounty on her.
Her skinny lips lay the skin on her , her bony
finger inhabits the earth, of a pilot's face she must come to see this heavenward veil. Her noxious fume _ clipping the news
of her pell-mell miasma head piece.
Shambles the nickle and dime. Imagines she is what he was,
what she wants, what she was, what he might becoming in the stray harbinger of din.

Din in her ears, catches the plate. O Jill wont wait to see
this expensive suit. He tires. of it . not wickedly but quickly,
o quickly swift as grass.

A modest piece of praise in her
heart clutch to machine the wax
in her ears.
At other moments, her arse.

Mona meet her at the bibliography of love
of their bodies inside her sex pullin him
over in a night of fair and pairing!
of pouting too.
What a perverse column of faith there
is in her longing. Tick-Tocked by the howizters
of it, she boggles the brains of plateau
wax recordings recorders for a line of tuggin',
(she's a ship's mate),
recondite spill of her
ovum stronger than bodies flash
Their bodies flash __ .

Epidemic epic of her hard won
fair she gets, from the bare loins, kings,
things of her democratic crack-pot desires.
Lighting the inside of her crotch
nestled up to his,
His? what his is ?
genesis of Eve's becomings her lilting Lillith sigh,
a guest to his body and
riveted to his soul as called.

So then?
then .

merges ever her nothingness to his .

haunting cache of his mute gaze,


She keeps writing the post operatic interlude to
their short date, raking the funereal leaves
around the parlour .


You know dear Franny this just wont do, it dont work. You
see it dont work
what dont work
it dont work
what dont work
it dont
it paces molasses budge
stiff a s the bridal gown on death
but dont
it arrives

Slow as the pace, molasses, grudges trudges through
the space time. Oona, the night knock its campbell soup
tin cans 'fallen' 'down' via space_awkward metaphor
we can_ that machine of__that__lab-less thing
label-less thing escaping the mouth.
what is this she she knocks against
shivering the hung down
down-hearted worlds of apocalypse
and triune satisfaction, a book that is a book
in name only__on the lip of a new medium,
a spook to ghost other times, ravage place you've not been.

her body is alert__not so the westryn wind that blows your love back to you to you to someone speaking in the culvert of the archive. Some ditch in the main the mania of the moment.

Oona not Mona a ragged strong held dollof the letter S bolded capped and larged to the deceive without knowing yer body eases off pinching prick without knowing knowing without knowing red-herring the herb herring of the old time on the couch laying with her of then the then some. Oops what was that bold of her cause?

What bold of cause the hearing of the berry in the straw
fields__night play


She say to hymn it dont flirt, it dont shirkit
slinks around the space of its caring.
Not creating the meaty instant of
body and flare

Hill some Jill was disappointed in this.
text of envelope
on the high posting of electronic
and its oracles of shout and same

was franny Mona coming to an end?
was the epistolary no more

was the shape it took
clocked by the personal subjective
I am thing shy lyric of dead narrative?

Mona scoffed. Scuffed her boots
on the painted face of deterritorialization
realization the oedipalization of her park

A park to bench in
sailor's get-up
her make up
a mark down
in credit shoes
and dental bills.
A way bill,
a receipt of closets
and dearth!
A voisinage of philosophical
river and blossom to bluster.
her kempt along path.
O Splutter of becoming and crepe.

Simplex complex .

Lover boy.


trishaw bell

Bluff and guff the woods still, shine in the heard song
bracken restless her breath, beating the air, tongue tied in

Air the eyes

Hands fret

in plural in the stuff unmade made composed pentatonic fifth
its violence ripping the statues, the symphonies, silent partner of centuries__alliances affilations not

melancholy mirrors asked identifications with blandishments
regenerating .

Unnatural couplings, murals, indifferences, auditions unbearable,
fisted gloves of steel, a reed stretched a finger to the hand .

Mona orders the word,remands the face clipped on, slid into,
helmet visor around the mask.

Crush the glass hour goating the crude stink, heard dumb song stained.
Not the restless gangster of light. Nor one of might and moot. Mona merry Jill at the port whence the leeward break of the wave. Some tuning fork from the sky, epistolary boom boom, it’s the ice in her dromedary, is that medicine or medina in the hoof and clapper, the bell,
the downside face,the grave.

You see, it’s not so important as that. One exactly, one ‘injuste’ displaced another lariat of twist and iota.

What fast on the porch, the steel wrought balcony, the balony
the malarky she’s had to reinforce, the rewind, uncovering the stinky poo of repetition and brains,
the conflation of brains and malaise.

Heave ho, heave ho, the slave sailors chant. Splish splash,
so easy it looks, the rough ones

The Mother of God and Mona AS Unusual Mona Jill the two headed desire machine glad to read bright brilliant ideas. Mona believed in the Mother of God and rescue.

Jill snorted, you can believe what you want, it’s what happens that counts, experience, what happens when experience doesn’t happen?

Per l'amore di deleuze dice per l'Amore di Dio il mio amico! Non esserlo è ama o odiare?? Me dice la favola di deleuze o il guattari? dirme O l'Amante di champage e l'italiano! let me ask you a question? ok! listen did you read guattari and deleuze did you look in the index, did you think I and the other great thinkers here are here to reply to yer queries for free??? what sort of becoming would that be? what page are you on? tell us are you in italian or english or french perhaps you dont read and work for the secret intellgence of ignorance??? tell us mamamia, for the Love of God tell us fer the love of Deleuze say! the amour of Guattari and the body without organs or sides Say O Wise One


An intelligencer riding the air waves, which being sacred
are always secret


Was the shape of prose, the pronoun relieved of its death? Your body
hot cold cold hot, indifferent tragic, comic absolute, farcical fey,
fairy heavy, entablature calm, rifted shadow and grotto where the eye
sees every margin of the page

Calm the piece, the granule, fragment


Ring ring the pose succubus the Eye Opened out the Ear

an apprentice fringe & haunt the village quiet
hunker in the frame sneak secret sorcerer
throw a rope the loop ing around the daw

come this around his other paw



hey bitch

hey bitch look at them rats
look at them rats

kill the rats kill the rats
the rats 're so cool
so cool

the rats are like so cool
I like the way her hair drags across her nape
shes a rat
shes a rat shes a rat a c oo l rat
cooking and

shes a bitch good at that
good bitch at that
shes bitching good to me
when she screams in my arms

my rat my rat my rat my little boy fuck rat my fuck rat boy

not my toy but my boy my baby its gonna make me maybe
its gonna make me maybe

Maybe the rats was the jewels in the crown prosecutor's hat
when she shit on the place she ate!
what square nose bummble fool bastardo bitch is this?
working the streets like a well rotten iron
or electric guitar ramming it home on the waa waa
the waa the waa
Gangster Baudelaire
an the seven filthy hens of hell and her peignoir
her shitty ass tail
and her rat assed face
o death be yer crock of cripple shit

What gaping cave of spring jewels bitches is this?

was this the violin that rigged yer head
O Rat bitch shes the best of the rest
O bitchin rat in her naked body

here there
like a living lightening thing

was this a tornado in the sky?

was this mans shambling along
with with parkinson fucked up sex your lover

Was this Vanished Mona conned to her Oona
and her felt tip pen hat?

was this the one with the square boots?



Dolorosa? No.

If only the actors would stay in place
but these our actors as I foretold you are vanished...in
to thin air
Puff puff a globe of smoke, snazzy Snazzee.

Jill Mona and Froozy ___ Froozy the floozy? as from the second book of__
frills and fray, the deck of cards her mirroring knaves,
these the second of our pack are luck filled aces playing the shimmy shake and the shimmmy shimmy gin rummy. What sail'll thimble in? what thimble'll we sail off in? what port dethimble at?
what port of call, and
what entry exit ?
enters exists?


What do you do with a drunken sailor, what do you do with a drunken sailor early in the morning? what do you with a drunken sailor early in the morning? Shangai the guy so his eyes pop out!

But then again,
Imagine that note lifting up a wave to put
the furniture down the rustling wings of dawn.
Yer deep accent is the southern kiss of the bleeding south!
What south, what mouth? what mouth of crescent
cresset ? no, its the simple sampler of audio recording
voices, choicing the ....

is this the actor's vanish
the actor's varnish?


is this noun a con of interruption? is this bustling the king of busts ?
was Floozy the pass of go past go your rowing back to
back rowing past the rights and night

'forever trying to arrange lights action'

What'll we do with a drunken sailor,
What'll we do with a drunken sailor,
What'll we do with a drunken sailor,
Earl-aye in the morning?
Earl-aye in the morning?

Way hay and up she rises
Earl-aye in the morning

That note! that note it had a waving rollick, a clangouring
it tipped o'er the top of the plume
buffeting the waves
rinking the sky
splashed mirror of the ocean coast
a tourist guide to heaven

aye me hearties, we seek cargoes of silk, muslins, calico, sugar, opium, iron and saltpeter. Aye aye we do, me hearties, you sea dogs and sea faring hags! you sea hags, lighten your ghost skins!

Oh dear Frospero, thy frowzyways are dog to dawn in the dirty light, shamble along the spare parts of accent and its sheep like guts, who says language must be right?

.. the lights stay put... the ballet the action...if only these would if only they if only people would do as they're told!

Flogs the night the body without organs and its passions!

Cabin fever my nun, cabin fever and little Adams and Eves bopping their holy childen, an atheist dawn if ever there was one. Mona tou-tou Mona frou-frou.

Never for the Imperium and its noxious fumes! Pastime to time it reaps the gust of kiss.
it shivers in the doxology of petition and repetition the sandering faces born of basso-relief.

Pardon me Mixter Turner, we are pragmantic. Right, right, we riddlers and more than this we are the paddlers of pudding.

(A shanty song'll do, any old shanty song'll do for you and for me.)

So then, so then, some day. Turn it ...

Over and over


Like a weird cabinet with a box in it a barber appears clipping the hair off the mannequin its dumpling appearance .





Oh we spin the record to heft its fin heavenward




Mona hill and Franny ill the Jill machine hocked up the squatting of pestle pie, the mouth of piece parts speech extruding her mouth

Mona used to be a friend of Guy Deborders ...and Peace without end and infinite deterritorializing to you but what the hell are you talking about? Derrida of his own admission (in his obituary article on Deleuze)admits he lacks these conceptual resources, with the result that for deconstruction (in the absence of any notion of connective synthesis) notions such as the body without organs and absolute immanence remain strictly incomprehensible.__Indeed the very thought of immanence no longer immanent to something else, so central to Deleuze's metaphysics, could only be construed by Derrida as a constitutively self-defeating pretension to the transcrescence of transcendence. Hahahahha Laughed Jill, as he wheeled his connective wheels of synthesis around!! ______________ --- That was interesting comparin`Daddiodeleuze with daddiaderridee.... Interestin`intervention: but as far as I can until folks start seeing that Jill was dealing with Matter as well matterphysika we ain`t getting nowheres said Jill to her faced-visage Franny. I was tryin`to get folks yakkin`bout matter`gin. Notjesttesxtch..... Cough cough harumph went Jill as she emphysemead once again yet again.... Frictions of Deleuze and Guattari and everyone in and on and
around this becoming is so sexy, and cool and attractive.

____Peace and Love and Potatoes Paris ph.d. sort of

but then butt then again,

then her Miss Occamm ruined things with her lovely kisses and pouts up my ass of masturbation factotums. She went with me to Paris.

Over the Pere Lachaise, or was that Le Pere! Momo we stood in the puddle of my new flat overlooking the cemetey. knowing the alienation we'd left behind was real. Us Other Europeans with bearing lorgnettes, sunglasses,satellites, forgetting to buy new shoes.

Now Lookee here buster, you as swell, as swell a guy as ever swelled his swellin into my tummy, youknow dang well we aint got no place to see the cemetery anymore than I do, and I am standing in my underwear, or was that under war? Ware, War and ware she ate the god's bullocks, what? is this high tigger tigger the owl and the fiddle. To France in a thimble I will sail and curve the cutting slaves of your navy

In a thimble I will trail my dribble locks padding the haze and wave, hacking the strong to desert and fur.

What? Posters to this sail have plucked the eyes of the gnome the wicked elf who sits in my doorstep, her arse plucked on my stoup begging me for shouts, her sick head, diseased with her brains!

Oh dear, bubbles the ogre of forest and cluttered recycled forest, only the hence coming episode will reveal.

The clause of steel and bakes the bread.

Or no, it was simple rummy on the tummy.

Witch be gone.

Poof! Poof! the night wens went.

the ox

when rented by the words Mona spewed the jungle

Plateau Signifier and slush the ravine and flood


the tongue was near
the ox of its haven
the bent hope forward
Take one. tak e two, the cement street at Villeneuve.

calibrate and sunder, its aphasiac mute nose.
some was. then not. reaped it. head. cut fane.

what was the au pair woman her glances
Molly come to prepare the thought.
the characters'll bend at the knee.
Jill tends the juice, organ breakers
bending at the knee is good. you live in prison. okay.

some envy possesses the rage its quite brood
a narrow room
caught not again a prelate repeat
the chamber of horrors
Museum street
death on the vast expanse
the name of your plaza belvedere and

the tongue was a borrowed tame brogue to the forest
whipping each peasant frame into shape
cobbling its horsemen over the passive night
watch the navy China

we had before not so in the mix not no no its the mid week hustle of the foregone conclusion the bodies wracked
wrapped around its explanation cannot say it’s not public
it’s not private as the air which seems to crash
down on your head seeming dust of light of
seeming to weight the hour on its forlorness
the alley of children over the bodies escaped

come victory over hammersmith and the eleven one s of the holy bead broke down in the monastery their speed their eyes, into the late cradling of the candle the hand finger up cut , the candle up late guttering of its eye forthness gleam of

jubilant as the gleam

would it be a heart?

oh come on, the heart bled

some say its weak in the village where it hung
seizing the grandfather's clock not numeraled
by the mostly mosaic of its tread
was spreading the dusk ducking its rage
this was the honest broker of her hand when

he was runeing
pentagram anagram

single ram
fortieth lamb


am what am is what am am am the i am the so sooth see the amb of its presage the am i am the limb am of the what I am am I am amb in her shoulder
shoulder slam in her shoulder but soft pad to take its lunge

am what I am iamb to I am in the b that is

its only mouth was open, more open to the day than the night unconscious , the unconscious worked better during the day, the unconscious was open to the future .

was lip tingling the apse lowering was that possible in the lamb of its cry, the sacrfice Abraham ram the lying feet

the feet the other feet

So the agnostic of fortune prayer ringing knell of word smith over the signifier of berries and beast. Hear that ox trough
that bull which binds the battered brow
a farandola to expensive risks we take

Mona was must find the weakened type of a verb
Friday was the night for prayers, the napkin too.

Some periods were better than others,
Some didn’t exist at all.



was ever a city this ?

its murderous bodies murdered?

was the city its destroy of earth to raid its heart,
buckle its death, again to which it
poured ice and fire?

this won't be her name
when death do us part
death do us doodle

over head lumbering
over there
I cannot


what things they're
of which

the fire shoots

its casket moves

away from the time



if ever bent

to its



what smell was it?
then that hooked night
into its thief
brought Empire to bear

its mighty murder to



there was and was not a city called

was shame the word


cleft foot cell
brought jet and cruise
the river



her voice is


I cannot hear
the audible breath of her dying

what city was the Euphrates I can not shame
I am ashamed the

river Tigris
was its name

cannot wear its heart to bear

the sweating curse

up to the sky the heaven filled
with lament

what poor is this?

will it?

Mona will it ?

will end it the willing end death to have no place to rift the tunnel of self the massacre of locks and river , the marsh and meadow

what flat voice keens the land? can Baghdad find its place

where tent and fig the dust mud up in the nose mouth
eyes shit of taste and stain

was this the heart of ?

not so can wake the murder the mud,

I cannot explain.

Mona eyes out heart out

on the hinterland

knows no adventure there was the rumbling convoy or the tracks
in the desert , its prophecy of bold and pray.

Jill can find no hammer for it, the horror
over the twitch stop stop stop stop .

Stop halt head break the shit
mud to eyes .

I cannot hear

the thought

its air



over there



Tigris march Tigris marsh over the desert far north
the place of loss the place of absent

No, no she cant remand what cant be taken back. For the Empire's whip cant be words, to bury back the dead, its cheap bone to brea k .

What? no it cant it wont its broke, its not worked,
it shan't it cant pray to a

the city
oh the city was

not something she could say, Mona was prisoner .


yipper snapper

Mona was a dancing ___
her name was hound dog
she took a breath of the kiss foul taste of
shite its malarky malaka
took the wasted halfbaked
her soul was ruth
fate of hamstrung thigh
death of hampers
candour's matter
courage of bent
in the perverse
territoires des mondes

After a tapping pavanne she
relaxes into the

gossamer chiffon
around her sleeve
beckoning its twist
or curved itch

up around the upper torso
lakes, neck, hair
as before was met
heaped up to eye

rest imagine its care
skin of carmel
its burnt space
kisses our tear

over the breast of stream
thigh flank to hip caress
hand to word glimspe her hair
library of weeks and fit gift


Some Mona was a moon,and made her pair__ was glinty in the foxy eyed south her accent the pleasing shape of her what the heck,hard up as any throng she bent toward the melee .

Mona can't be hamstrung by linguals of feral, her juice is hunger hugger mugger a coarse navy of batting adn boating. She dons the cap.


not delicate

Not de for der...da for ..rea...a fur derring doda corrida
across the


he on heel pins

the text of its shining flat froward glance
astern brow

Not the How of machine
it's not a metaphor no no

err errant not to confuse with the voisinage of
the chosen one's gaze

Orpheus the martyr was not the saintly sitting
fer portraits galore to hospital

not to visit its maimed self
o comment o comma

No we sit and stand

Come over here Felix it is the stand down sit down sexercise
cising of the scission
its au pair girl
au paris gal


in the buckets of sooth
not to say comments in the treachery of tooth

'tooth' Truth washes her hand


transom tray
beckoning its recondite

so heartbreaker

your smile will
undo its doing
compossibilit the t'angelic side whisper up

Deleuze nods back to her. She stays
the second its pairing a marring
on the side of the _


strata between onions
old coat not a noxious substance
of oiled fueled self


across the night without bodies

so many links the internal tunnels, the swinging side of the thing

it makes for a passing reference in the body of the night without bodies

See then this machine Guyotat


the the quotes its ear around the article of, the articling of
its taste




midnight of work and the lewd work off the tippling of its


A crookneck was edible in morning. before the chapter of
salting gravy

peers at table

wakes the idea

of rasberries, or tangerines, or sit down lounging

divans .

Franny's hair turned in a croquignole flaunting the universe
to page its temper. She tastes the seed of
strawberry and the
wild long thing to chew
suck on during the throughout day.

Walking over the river, she brook
no quarter to his invent, in the tummy belly of ache.
After at the fort a hearing aid is restored. Burned by each cloak
he hands her a moment to demand the filter, the hour.

Something like a croquis, for her fingers to dabble the crack-back of their retreat . It is her first look counting the hour up the itinerary , what a word to skate on Italian ponds, recreating neighborhoods of .


Not crass or critical it


drapery is half the mouth that leans over .

Thus Jill woke the rear guard

tellin the mast of speak.


An editor idiot crackles in amaze a mass taking her
hear to task matching the curtain and drape
fitting his coffin to fortune.

Piece of tuber in his mouth .

d is for dead

D is for Dead

and deleuze was not dead, realized Jill one day.

she rushed out to see to sEE the movie.

_ she hugged her brains out afterward. we cam e back here, yes
we did and had
and then

we _ Oh, yes, really

but she was laughing too
sitting there all
time watching some devil
a succubi
a dead parasite of hatred
sentimentality and goo

we called the exorcist
shaking her shaking her awake
to her own
but she was trying to make me sick
now with her sickness

So then Eurydice flew in from Paris, and the Levant and the raging boogoos from India and other trampolines were set into play to relatch the fusty demoness back to her strapped in mental house bed!
she would not go!

Sicker than a pickle imagine that hatred blazed in her bones
hidden as the poisin which covered her greeting and good wishes
this was a sickness borne by empire babes.


was for dampen the dead and leave the antioedipal ones

D was for dingle


Dill was Jill regaining lost ground,
huffing her suit

puffing her gloves and love.

Shipping and Receiving

Shem sent it back the spirit of the felix ghost wandering the alley through the dead town, and spoke back the night s of words in shining armour. They were maidens of dishonour and intent. A muscical word onthe fingers rattling in desire

when ShemAntiOedipus was a handler shippin his
mails to the world without finitude he was zappered
by repression machines. Or somethin like
s o la
tion revew retreat
so she regrouped her barriers and stampeded
steamships galore



Mona two times

Mona was seeing the past in white and gold and knew (she knew a shrew was gentle god) she was a she goat in all the billy goats of time and her trime was spread for the scholars of other days, other lawyers and lanyards to come and huzz her way past the I am the True Dada of her other father Sartre and her Saint Genet and her Our Father Jean Genet who are in heaven hallowed be thy name thy burial ground a thunder in the immanence of the earth and motherdom come forever and ever a woman, a woman's name slicked in the phosphate of the earth, the earth's full body its terrene soil. Ah, said Mona. I got an ignore. of phaedric loving.They were in the Platonic mode mood. The girls greek gathered around. In a circle humming. Tunes of Parsifal. Humming birds of desire. Next was the pragmatic fantastic factory of the unconscious. Always an orphan, an orphan desire. A paradise lost for a paradise gained Rhizome Two Times Oh, Mona said one day. I got an ignore. Some high falutin’ big-a- wig ignored my moans and groaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaannzzzz. Never mind that poetry was the essence of all philo. Never mind that becoming poet was the animal becoming of language and words. Never mind that big shotsssss got all the frreeee rides on areoplanes, never mind that rollling yer rrrr’sss in the end never got ya more than hunger, poverty, and blindness. Rongrong was always rong in her right her right to be a judicious slave to all chairs dominating all skies of liberty and apocalypse. One tired of the weary masturbating machines of self serving, those that loved only the dead foregoing the living. Never the living. Franny called Mona and said: look what Jill sent me. In the hurly burly early fictions there was a pretence to a frame of reference, some holding back of the flows of expression that overwhelmed her in 'in her epistemology' it was easy for a professor to say these things -- like to question authenticity it was not so for Mona, or her friend Moona and Ooona. Oona and Moona were two others who had nothing to do with the nothing to do and the bipolar world and its schizophrenic charge. Some days she was 41 others she was not a day longer than forced. What could be old in her love for the girl? Nothing, she knew and turned to the page . It was Fanny's eyes staring "out "past him"." In the kiss of your ring I saw the night of phaedric love you held him in your arms next to the new night. Like any other anthology she was her name. Not so, the word was forgot and the hemdrums spoke.

Later in the noun Franny peaked, or peeked her text into his eyes seeing
his humdrum night wondering the simple paschal of her breast's shape in his mouth. In his mouth the shape of your breast .


Franny never recalled the sense or meaning of a word
steeping her elves the selves the meanings
as ballast to the ballerina


Reader, for another 'earlier' version of this episode follow the external link! for pink Christ's sake!

for rhizomatic choking

for folding bold rewiring and treble foot aloft. for mouth inthe
feet. or some consonant trading the wind mill

for the lavender touch

of your

Nota Versa

Framing the ornament Jill kids the text. The clicker of hound and bay the work in digress

'Not a verse to see or write how a page not then
there not knot an anagram an anagrammatical
tying the knot of the boy's mouth scullery
speak cross across the acrisscrostic of
the l someone's name the shame
of that's artifice

interior deck self can flay roam troupe of antic
self and muster of contra fill and wender to the nameless

what is that anexactly? yre lyre hand over yore of error Hairorsee can electric belltower the bleedin heart. some acccent to page the gloam of its brogueish feces . tundra to invent the scent .

not sure ? celerity cleats? over your cloak sheets. E. bile bullshites Misslead as in led dead thinkin all was Oedipus and other stiff? not so the true king of not It. never thee mind
Not I as per by Hoxford . other power mongerers. I prefer Molly the fishmonger dublins'f air city not so pretty is she in the reek of fish the high damsel 'down' body.

Over thee horizon of the city the aura glow of its neck against the embrace of her glow the neck of the lamp against the city its sheet awning prepped for death, or its
garden jardin

So what eluded the characters? to arrive at no name. felding down the personae? of multiple schizo names station arrive verbs end prepper names

will be the sandwhich men
by hill and dale come over autres so send the name and pres
lost proper 'paranoid'?

will fill the ladling bill

will knot it say? can it? ken?
when young the tides did
off it it lilts some tide'

On the shipping dock he stand and , she cursed the high sea ,

she ,

no, he wore the rainbow of the regiment. The troop of lanes, and the gathering gossip of anonymity .

On the shipping she stood all day gazing off the horizon was this
the watch that parried the boat bearing his body of


Jill winked at the wind

crossing the corner of his sea .

No wish to infect or be infecte d .

Mona bootless ... (and fix_its )

Mona had a lonely centre of gravity, and a solitary sense of levity. She had her body, shapely as a thing, twisted as
telephone but dainty as a teacup. She was up to know

when she knew it was good. Her double bodied selve

was her, no his, his hers? to cog with gears and belts
a corset in the long playing record knights, in

her no, his Don Quixote night.She was working

on a non unified body to reach his before gulps
and sigh to unify his to hers like smiles to grapes. well full bellied and sailing her cast away body to his was a mission
a half, sailing her skipper was the buoy. Sailing off her capstan
and shipping out her goods was the point. Her body
billowed then swept up radiant remainders, a legal pad
for her lips to gnaw on. Who understands the magic number of her self?

For night's always played her tricks in her mind and imagination. Like trucking . Not that. but something like difference engineers, not knighted
peers, or dukes and slaves, earls not pearls, she meant earls and not pearls. In any can, there is a film, not necessarily star material but
relatively speaking relgious figures. and tropes galore to be
insouciant in her lipstick manner.

Manner, that was something, thing, take a thing,
zygote blastula thing an old piece, not some music in the beat
of our bodies.

Bodies he said, smiling at her nape. Cuddling her in
his arms