miércoles, 24 de noviembre de 2010

Merry-Go-Round the Horror Vacui

Rokia Traore, M'bifo

“These days which, like yourself,
seem empty and effaced,
save avid roots that delve
to work deep in the waste”
- James Merrill

"Nature abhors a vacuum"
- Aristotle

Nomadic weaver of artifices,
streaming from zenith to nadir,
across thousands of continents and positrons,
varying in form, content and logic.
By no means mislaid 

nor devoid of dedicated strokes and tickles,
relentlessly seeking out ecstasy and catastrophe, [viciously]
curing those entities superficial enough to be cured,
ghouls, automatons and mountains,
cleaning wounds of strangers every day.
Eyes of the hermit, perceptions of the bizarre,
The senses now intensify
I subsist abundantly now!

Overwhelming life.
Overwhelming pain.
I urged to perform further than horizons,
forgetting distinctions,
doubting with style.
[Self] Accommodations between tongues.

Vacuums, translations and immersions
encompass the homo sapient symbolic bondage.
Thus certain melodic perversions
are inexorably perceived throughout
nonessential amorphous shadows.
Mere gravitational noemata,
electromagnetic diagnoses,
incorporeal voices,
thinking apparatuses,
and de-anxietized sapients.

Occupy matter, as a matter of fact.
Sublime configurations of eccentricity and uncanny resolve
knots itself unto fibers of asymmetrical panic;
a certain communal fragmentation 

of all viral locomotions ensues.
Spirals and toxins melt the cosmos at will,
reshaping, reforming the hemorrhage into
numerous organs, tools and cryptograms;
radicalizing transactions and appetites.

Awful boredom appears amidst the ocean of symptoms,
indicating undischarged tensions somewhere in the tissue,
{As we know, 

this rarely ever troubles enlighten men, 
schizos or junkies}

Capricious volumes of burdens frequently collapse,
unleashing the tedious pressures,
cultivating an unalterable network of mists,
retractable halls, overflowed with
bodily aromas and collective lobotomies.
Where jigsaw puzzles surface like toys,
surrounded by fabrics of nuclear jokes.

Weary, yet breathing, I stumble, discern and covet…
[To become and be no more]
Subsequently my tongue escaped and licked you;
what exquisite dissimilarity have I come across!?
An additional! an otherness! a singularity outside my wits!
A fully integrated entity! Differentiated from my logic!
I detect foreign motions

exploring inestimable memoirs and stimuli.
Fire in your gaze, 

command in your flesh,
tremors in your sighs.
The gravitational tempest is throbbing, a swollen pulp of nerves and trauma.
Oh righteous thirst! Howling enthusiasm! Intrepid auto regulatory determination!
To speak in tongues, eat the roots of chimeras and compute formulas of precision!
Thus invoking an eerie confabulation into the awareness machinery.

I seek no redemption, I seek no salvation.
I be my redeemer, I be my savior.

[Into the fields] Investigating the enchanting mucus,

the ethereal entrails
and those elastic extremities that adapt at will.
Scarred as they are, so alike my own,
their belligerence and masochism verbalizes
a fatal mnemonic junction of functions.
Consequently I greedily swallow their dripping fervor,
a solar plexus revolving primordial magma,
transfiguring your thumping particles into valiant and incensed Maenads.

[A trigonometry of need] Deploying this tongue here, 

over the raw plump membrane.
Depositing saliva onto your surfaces and orifices whilst
collecting your viscosities onto my muscle of tastes.
Munching on the thick labia, ensnared in your fur!
I have you in my grasp! You have me in your embrace!
For we are an animal nexus; where meaty conduits and frictions blossom!
So ripe and full, how magnificent!
Superior to all others on this instant!

Organic noises sway the multitalented satisfactions, 

their anatomical cleverness.
All limbs to intertwine with! 

How do you like it this way? Ah, cheers!
Your insides swollen, 

moisturized by the sizzling juices of covetousness.
Your physique! It tingles on this very moment!
Soon all sensations will radicalize exponentially
into a crescendo, so as to not recall anything.
Oh! Boundaries and limits are no more! We’ve vanished!
Microscopic fusions galore; a coming together of bodies.

Gladly rubbing the multitude of infernos 

you keep buried in the cortex region,
where swelling suns and tempting chimeras descend, inebriated with dusk gumbo.
So chemically consistent, so pleasantly hectic.
We must dare! Always dare!
To suffer each other’s satisfaction with the utmost style.
You've already enticed my arteries,
my medulla oblongata, my symbolic labyrinths.

Beloved specters, I detect and conjure simulacra!
Entire cities mutating, inscribing rationales of power. 

[Art along sensual Truths]
It’s the story of a sapient who found freedom, in the most unlikeliest of places:
within the crepuscular compartments of nonlinear logic.
However scavenger, be forewarned!
sapient narratives have no nature, no home, no origin.
It's constructions are blood-soaked, it's characters perverted,
and it's themes synthetic at best.
Remember this peregrine!
in order to know virtue, 

we must acquaint ourselves with vice,
only then can we grasp the holistic measure of the species!

Assimilating my way around complexes 

within complexes of quanta and shadows,
all cities carry the plague, tired scriptures and virtual treaties;
streets are carrousels interconnecting us into its tissue.
The spectacle is universally dogmatic, yet paradoxically,
it is unwilling to arrive at any concrete dogma.
Nothing stands still for it.
This uncertainty is the supreme condition; 

that of unknowable preconditions,
so if you are to find yourself 

stranded in any sort of portal,
a cautionary tale:
abandon appearances and essences, 

summon tricks and jokes.
Every algorithm is a creative algorithm,
even if it has a destructive result.

Savor every drop of Samsāra!
Curl, quiver, inflate, deflate and dissolve 

realistic antagonisms of the drama.
Rest beside me; 

expose a method, a means into your lobes and undulations.
Surrender as I have, 

coveting the other, remembering that which is [not I]
Let us square off, beast of [in]sanity!
Prove me your strength! Roar as I too!
Allow me to experience your decoys and aches.
Fire flows from fire, and my water boils.
Teach me how to communicate through you.
Is this crave to endure your flaming tentacles
submerging my antennas just too selfish?
Teach me a raw language mysterious stranger! 

Let’s get lost on purpose!

If at this moment you flee! Hastily shall you pursuit!
If you merely spurn memorabilia! Soon shall you forget!
If you know not love! Soon shall you consider it! 

[Even reluctant]

Draw closer then, grant me surcease,
not only from starvation, but from indulgence.
Drive away care; instill nutrition and spit in my countless jaws.
Fulfill that which I yearn to accomplish;
Be [thou] my ally... and nemesis.

Stroll away from me! Beset my name even!
You attractive, yet unbearable other, non are bound forever.
Be absent, missing, astray.
Abandon the sanctuaries of harmony, 

where nothing [is] any longer.
As we doze and nap, dreams have command to influence sleep,
as we rise and clash, wandering thoughts maneuver wakefulness.
To feel! To conceive! To reason! To laugh! And to sob!
Whilst we cast our cares away!

Don’t seek redemption, don’t seek salvation
be your redeemer, be your savior.

If one should have a companion, 

then one must be willing to wage war in proxy,
and in order to wage war, one must be a cunning trickster.
In one's ally one may have one's perfect enemy!
We are closest to our lovely comrades when we withstand their transgressions.

The great laws, hegemonies old, 

how vainly would technocratic architects
enquire, distinguish, define, formulate and inculcate phenomena.
Language depends on the most naïve prejudices,
did you not yawn at their monotonous pure thinking?
The inconspicuousness of Truth or False.
In the vast designs of fate, thinking itself becomes us.

Into the nocturnal we set out!
Her moon bites deeper than ever before!
So temperate, so fierce, so prominent,
So precious now…
I interpreted your ocular machinations eons ago.
[Or was it the other way around?]
On the epoch of synthetic exhalation, we acknowledged.
Never be frightened of what you might stumble upon.
Roam across the asymmetry, for twilight is nigh!
We mind a solitary duty in the closing stages of the world; 

to push forth!
Raw wastelands are everywhere! 

At the nowhere juncture! Do concede to this!
[Artificial hibernation]
The vomit of the universe landed here and there,
[and back again]
in the evaporating woodland,
beneath the conspiring flora,
over the whimsical jungles,
surrounded by nonsensical oceans,
at the desert of the real,
[Yummy dessert of the real?]
where moments drift unto the next and vice versa,
(di)simulating utilitarian serenity,
within the deteriorating juicy frenzy of the now;
As plump heuristic thighs engulf entropic mysticisms,
dizzying doubts suggest a welcomed therapy; all is allowed.
As leafs desert the once soothing branches,
collapsing toward the soil; as was promised.
[Gravitational axis of the circumstances]

{I slid next to her; she has pleasant fat legs under that polka skirt,
we kissed, as my touch intermingles throughout her body}

Our poltergeist kin are bound to turn round up in a vicious cycle.
Perspicacity nourished on melancholy and angst
attains the configuration of aporias,
symptoms of national, and by all means, galactic decline.
The unfathomable casts a fluorescent dimness on all planets
and provides the incurable brusqueness of sundown.
[Mind control is obsolete]
There are no resolutions; there are however cowards veiled as such.
[Symbolic design is the prospect]
We recognize the mutilated folk,
replicated multitudes of spiraling feral containers.
[Hegemony over context]
Herd critters march down the hill,
rummaging for a barn in the midst’s of killing fields,
covertly suspecting something is missing.
Driven gradually and silently
into a category of terminal paralysis,
manifesting with the apprehension
that the single thing you want is not here.
A critical circumference. [Frontier of I, me, mine]
Some unexpected surplus; what its victims suffer from are reminiscences.

{She saw me, for who I was, a total stranger,
values transgress physics, solid melts into air}

An overload of elegant sensory circuitry ruptures,
conducting chain reactions; an avalanche of singularities.
What deceitful edifices of data, composition and fractals we are!
Purring the tumultuous melody of the nightingale;
Sensuality and cruelty as crafted by an astral vacuity!

martes, 16 de noviembre de 2010

Equipaje perdido

Je Chanterai Pour Toi, Boubacar Traoré

A saber en
cuál pocilga o castillo
mi equipaje fue
a parar.

Insociables tal vez,
maleta y pertenencias
otra bahía, otro vecindario;

me atrevo a decir que
su ausencia, corresponde a
una extraña obstinación de

por descuido o por secuestro,

Extraviados sí pienso
los dos litros de güisqui
estancados dentro
de un envase
de enjuague dental.

Los calzoncillos rojos
que huérfanos de alguna inexplicable
gaveta o mujer, habían sido
escoltados hasta
mi cintura.

Una copia de Casa de la Forma
supuesta a ser obsequiada;
Una copia del esqueleto presenta
Una ex novia
Dos mejores amigas
Un amigo
Una hermanita que dejó de ser hermana al cumplir los quince;

un disco compacto de Sylvia R. que siempre regreso a Borders para comprarlo pero está

una libra de pan sobao’
y diez dólares de queso de papa para enviárselos a la odiosa que vive en el Pueblo de

la primera semana, para
cuando el cólera había asediado
mis facultades,
el mundo decidió que prestarme atención sería cosa del pasado.

luego de saborear los dulces durante un buen día,
se me puede escuchar
reventando gavetas
y puertas.


Pues pienso,
así como creo honesto eso de oponerse al enemigo,
en la probabilidad de
nunca haber extraviado mi equipaje.

Y pienso
que tal vez
mi equipaje
alguna esquina muerta
de la


Undercurrent, Jami Sieber

Quién en su sano juicio
no ha sido régimen
de contrariedad.

Quien no ha hecho espumarajos
de acrobacia sobre
otro templo –sobre viejos combates–
aderezado verdad,
fallado calma;
perezoso o desleal o incrédulo.

Quién a la perversión no ha
moldeado antecedente;
se ha dado un buche de sarcófagos y
pensado en enfadarse para luego juzgar;
Quién… ha sido
para la distancia para cicatrizar una
presunción inicua/violenta;

Patrocinada desde la quebradiza interrupción del otro.

Quiénes al ser sin entregarse… dejándose,
son custodiados.

Buena ciencia no suele ser
tal vez, obsequio,
novedad puede ser, puede que sea

dejaría caer su velo oculto.
Pero para el rencor, el embalse
de las diferencias es ministerio y panorama.
Y una vez sucedido,
existen formulas/pegamentos
suerte y descuido,
tonterías cuantificables;
un horripilante cinismo,
un estilo que cercena.

Hacemos como si hacemos ¿intrépidos?
cuando de inmediato
nos suavizamos al torpedo de la
y se construye
(como la grima es predecible), cociéndose
atuendos de la reparación, del encubrimiento.

Nunca en ruta segura
…imperiosos; al eterno

Tan sólo el dócil intento
dibuja vertebra, se acomoda,
pretende soberbia sin promoverla;

cuál ermitaña reliquia conoce metafísica
por entenderse sospecha…

En la ausencia, es mejor llevar piel sin tatuaje; pues
el mejor obsequio
aloja un poco de paciencia como única regalía;
y es nuestro temple —imparcial o colérico—
quien olvida toda su humanidad;

pero es la memoria
la oportunidad para desenterrarnos:
En mí el olvido nunca estará.

miércoles, 10 de noviembre de 2010

The Genesis of Sodom

[Jami Sieber, Long Past Gone]

"We must dare, dare again, always dare!"
- Georges Danton

And thus a Dvergar is said to have wandered across the polis one day, floating on all formulas and axioms the city required to produce. It ate brunch at the State house, It pissed in the Church, It fornicated in the Laboratory and defecated at the Bank. Thus promptly whistling a tasteful tune as It fled the scene in the darkness, detonating the C4 he carefully and carelessly planted on each house of Laws:

"to believe termites can become pores.
if our common flesh, dēmokratía, decomposes into a popularity game,
a screaming frenzy of creatures with colossal stomachs.
then we are lost.
believe in dialogue.
a single God, a single voice, a single direction
can't compare to the wonders of a reciprocally connected burghal.

spawn and crave subjectivity.

if the human project is to survive we need to identify the decoys of ancient time.
that which has been passed down as the mythical dawn of goodness and virtue.
i invite you into the Gnosis of the self(s).
venture into which methods are conductive to a multiplication of identities,
to a crescendo of sustainable and auto regulatory subjectivities.
we require a basis for speech and craft which invigorates, gives meaning, creates bonds.
yet bestows a critical and self-observing aura.
towards an heuristic web of =being="

miércoles, 3 de noviembre de 2010

The Book of Re-Enchantment {Fragment}

Mariama, Boubacar Traore

"The pillars of our societies lay bared, starving, depleted in endless agony. The collateral damage splashes cheap perfume in our faces, while we continue to grip and put forth teleological games. The oh oh factor, that is, our indisposition to understand reality as residue of history and language within the study and creation of knowledge vis a vi of truths... The cannons take aim at a foundational epistemology and thus the specters, those truly sickened by the will to flee into concepts. Models of reality stemming from historical processes of belief systems rather than from "an ultimate vantage point", be them rational, empirical, pragmatic, holy... or all of the above.

The doubts and the tears and the pleasures side with the "Tongue of Advaita". Beware of that chimera that sleeps in your breast, that ticking universality, that quick to judge and "discover". And I speak in tongues, and I weep under the tree's shadows, and I yank the atoms of Samsara. The search for absolute foundations of Gnosis, Truth and Goodness are the outcome of a referential theory of language. A flash pan hunter. He who promises from afar."

[The Book of Re-Enchantment was found inside a fake wall of the Afro-Caribbean Arts and Folklore Institute in Haiti. The artifact was written in an unknown form of Sanskrit. Moreover, there are no entries in the Institutes's records of when or who donated the item. The text has no information concerning author or place of origin and its missing several chapters. Dr. Joaquin Gomfrey Abiodun's research with thermoluminescence testing reveals the papyrus and ink used dates back 6000 years]