Often trees are conductors of the absolute, the sidereal cuss
eternity. the blow escapes the rehab and into the fire as known
but
lost coupons short of your toaster of existence. the mind needs consciousness,
consciousness does not need mind. Bon Voyage.. when the body revolts within itself, and parts battle
parts,
it's the last revolution, the last pogo, follow the few that
have wisdom, don't let it deceive with knowledge, the brass ring of annihilation, you'll be recognized by a chip, and maybe it will be all that's left..

Tuesday, September 23, 2014

Peter Hughes

XVI
A me stesso di me pietate vène
& still my cogs emit this high-pitched whine
although they never mesh with the planet’s
transmission systems or anyone else:
self-portrait of the artist as duff clutch
so I’m stuck between vibrating mayhem
& a car that’s never heading down the road
Christ it’s like I’ve got Elmore James playing
right in the tips of each of my fingers
with none of the sound ever getting out
through the skin or sudsy marigold gloves
sink kitchen isolated house or town
it’s already the end of whatever
they’re calling this period nowadays
& what you hear here is just an echo

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