(0) That Awful Mess of being Left to (be) Compose—(-d) while
Waiting for My Libretto to Arrive
(1) Well, let’s Begin, Again:
My Addiction, was always, Elemental
(2) The Winter that I was Slid
in a Hid
(3) As if: “being Among” is a kind of Torture, in which,
Being becomes to Situate the Self directly into the Trail of a Another’s
History where the Grasp of Understanding, is always, inherently, sore
(-ily)
Marked by Other, Marked by that Bitter, Foreign Flavor
(4) “Asinine, Fraudulent, and most Importantly: fucking Slow”
(5) “Don’t Worry Ma, I got’sa
my booty tautly bundled up—[!]
(6) In Other Words: You Come to a Place where an Aggressive,
Forward Momentum, (i.e. tete—e—tete) is Prohibited.
(7) The
Idea of being so Hermetically
Post-Avant-Garde, that “getting-laid” properly, is not of the utmost Importance, but Rather: always knowing what I am Doing, doing Alone, I am not
Knowing, what I am Doing, Unknowingly
(8) The
Diagnostic Tic of the Intimacy Impulse has long served as Bastardized Form of a
Preemptive Strike
(9) Against
the Resembling “Coming of Man”
(10) In
all of His Muscular Blandness
(11) I
Press my Ear across a Penetrating Surface
(12) The
City is always an Inimical Figure:
Crumpling upon in its Menace
(13) He
wanted, so Desperately, what it (is) to Be, must is (it) to Be: the Inversion of this City (be) this, must (it) not Be, (is) but
Rather, Be: “Go Ira, for it is but I
(is) to (it) Be, about to (it) Become (is) Be—[!]”
(14) Perhaps it is
Hunger’s Figure that Keeps one Stuck in
the pangs of a relentless Subjectivity, “irredeemably”--------------àwhich gives
(out) an apparent Force for
Conquering, to help Explain this incessant Subjectivity. IF SO,
a rumbling Ground opens, as a parched
Mouth, to the Quest for separating the Self further from the eaten-out Gaps of those Gasping Pleads of “Where this Humanistic
Panic Began”. Thus: tethered, as if, to a Fist, it is a Question of wedging the Self out of this City, and shoving the Self further-into a pure Modality of the Body other than one tied to a
Mode of abundant Morality, that is
utterly, bereft of Speech.
(15) The
Opposite of Restraining Oneself, is to Become, quite simply, the Embodiment of
an Aphorism
(16) The
Vagueness of “Thank God…” and “For Us All…”
(17) The
Way I Face your Face is Quietly
Subverting You
(18) You
will be, the Woman, Laughing, at the Top, of the Allerton Tip-Top-Tap
(19) I
consciously Engineered this all to Forego the (non-) Repetitive
(20) If: if the
Signs were Empty, then my Body’s Acts would be Irrepressible, or at least, confusingly Preposterous and Gloriously Free.
(21) The
Gathering Taint in a Motive
(22) That
Our Story was Full, implied a burbling
Tension
(23) And
a Call to Arms: unhinging that Hanger (on) of Anxiety from Socialized Structures,
would be the Problem that Began: “Oh, I
just couldn’t Forget”.
(24) And it is
the only thing She has ever been sure of: there is always the Hope for a
Brilliant Stroke of Violence
(25) And Worst of All:-------àDying,
just a little, in late November, just when the Days are Beginning to Grow all
the more Shorter and the City has Begun to Resist the Glory of My Parade
