Musette

April 14 poem: Realm of bruising, realm of prayer (cutup)

More shepherds, fins, spirals. More prayer. Today's text was drawn from pages 424-425 of the desktop encyclopeida,current to cuttlefish.

 

Realm of bruising, realm of prayer

Revolving, with little direction from the rider, prayer flies in suspended facets, a form  that repeats and repeats and thus encloses without ending. The precise value can be thought of as music, a circle of infinite radius, or wheel born in crystal and timber, a path of custard apples. In the 25^th dynasty, a shepherd perfects the curvature, a bright arc of defiant movement. Mortality spirals like a fin, falls in ornamental folds, layering myth and taboo with its warm, moist sand.  Calculation strikes at common lures—small, cusped arches of the necessary. A pretty face. Change derives from effort to cut (isolate) the principle from its containing shell, from infatuation, from this notion of best fit. The realm of bruising ellipses the territory of the curtained bed, the procedures and techniques that allow union. Segments of light, linked end to end, can reach the roots of the herd. Spirals, suspended and spanning the yellow glass of moon, may not reenter a shepherd or saint. More exact, the three lobes of mortality limit precise value to tracery. In the end: a cup, a bird, a table, a pattern within an idea, our ornamented leaves. These are the only miracles.

 

Lovely image by rbaez, Ricardo Baez-Duarte, via Flickr.

April 13 poem: Sparks off the blade (cutup)

Today's field of words (pages 1522-1523 in the desktop encyclopedia, spark plug to speed skating) yielded the title—and the interesting theme of how things (species, lines of thought) diverge and converge. Or at least what's what happened on my trains of thought.

 

Sparks off the blade

A single evolutionary line splits into two: light and magic, chess and resonance. The insulator separating them must temper wit with morality, transform mass frequencies into sight-impaired truth. Or release an agile climber. The blade of abrupt subdivision is reflected in the body against a moving background of commanding, requesting, warning. The same factors mate and produce viable offspring, creating a spark, allowing for such effects as speculation or virtue. Human abilities have sharply serrated dimensions, fictional tricks to enliven the desired signal. Groups may continue to struggle, mechanically tapering individual differences and articulation to dark lines or radiant breathing. Standardized meaning is destroyed, absorbed or emitted, and one’s true body (a house igniting, a wild boy) must withstand low-level synthesis visible as light. Gradual changes combine the separate, atoms and molecules so close together that words and sentences appear simultaneously. Work begins (see “pattern recognition”). Synthesis, some fictional, is exhaled as clues or depth. Colorless substances heavily streaked with song and heat struggle through a common film of warning.  In the aroma and taste of peppermint, clues continue. Beginnings stud “spectacles.” Temples remain.

 

Photo by g_kat26 via Flickr.

 

April 12 poem: Any random variable (cutup)

This piece ranges (in its material of origin, that is) from nondirective psychotherapy to North. That's pages 1162-1163 in the Merriam-Webster Collegiate Encyclopedia. I am amused by the ski-jumping soprano and the commando units of verse.... (Aleatory, by the way, means "random," but with a lovely new collection of letters.)

 

Any random variable

A sapling. A king. The ritualistic gibberish of mathematicians and shipbuilding. Such words sound purposeful, hence parallel or culturally related. Yet any random variable works to release fragmenting language, rational or allegorical. The shaman’s appetite for sympathetic stimulation served as a great barrier to the idea of a single correct passage. Nicknamed “The Great White Shark,” the mythological guardian (imposing, exceptionally displeased) held many titles—whale hunter, airborne commando, ski jumping soprano. A fragile resistance encourages him. His father was imprisoned by unwritten nonsense, taken prisoner by hyperbolic geometry and forced to abandon the possibility of deviation, its furniture of dispersed data sets. The classic bell curve of career money winners, reigns, meaningless revolts threatened him. He “would rather be right” than discover an alternative parallel, postulate a new North Sea. He focused on religious ceremony, its whimsical marriage of the comic and the ornamental at the nerve endings of a relativity puzzle. A voice as opposed to a projected reputation for money laundering or tendencies toward recklessness. Now any given course is hyperbolic. The goal is to disburse commando units of verse. Axioms and stalled words derived from them (nymphaeum, vassalage, neurotransmitter) go unwritten. The goal is pilgrimage, rebellion. Pick a number. Program the aleatory.

 

The image (so striking, no?) is by Universallyspeaking, via Flickr.

April 11 poem: A brilliant door revealed (cutup)

Ah, ease at last. Some of these experiments can be a bit tortured. And some are so pleasurable. This was one of the latter. The words come from pgs 652-653 of the desktop encyclopedia, Ghibellines to Gibson (as in Gibson girl). And the image is from the endlessly wonderful Hubble.

 

A brilliant door revealed

Jesus and The Prophet play tennis, the old man and his grandson as star giants, hundreds of thousands of times brighter than the sun. They have long hair, acumen, Michelangelo masses. The Virgin and Saint John won mixed doubles. She has prolific feminine beauty, he a poetic technique. Their long arms swing (with reduced radii and brightness) through history, connected with equilibrium and mystical joy. The notion that the spirit is separate from the world of the living coincided with a nebulous sense of mathematical rigor. But close contact with thermodynamic theory revealed that wherever there is a prophet-dreamer, a brilliant door is revealed—a way of life imminent. Much detailed knowledge dances from branch to branch, hastened by songs and contact. God as big tree and sculptor or wearer, a prolific manufacturer of sheer, inaccessible nature, widely imitated. Probably not an agent of monopoly control or existential tragedy. She of strong emotion, born as a saturniid moth? Dress her in bronze, attach her fruits to sand and foam in radiating death-life-revelation.

 

The image is from the Flickr stream of the NASA Goddard Space Center, and their April 22, 2010 caption info explains, in part: "This brand new Hubble photo is of a small portion of one of the largest seen star-birth regions in the galaxy, the Carina Nebula. Towers of cool hydrogen laced with dust rise from the wall of the nebula.... The image captures the top of a three-light-year-tall pillar of gas and dust that is being eaten away by the brilliant light from nearby bright stars."

April 10 poem: 55 asymmetrical species of truth (cutup)

Considering that the words of the day, from pages 278-279 of the desktop encyclopedia, were pulled from entries that ranged from Chandra Gupta II to cantata, you'd think we'd be talking about something besides truth and poetry. But we do have the Three Blind Mice and sculpted human heads....

 

55 asymmetrical species of truth (cutup)

The cult of Three Blind Mice came under Castillian influence. The art of canopic jars declined in favor of the art and influence of “double envelopment”—re-creations of diatribes and manifestos. The new dominant character (hymn) intermittently surrendered to detached intellectualism or ornamental ritual. An industry began to grow. The flowering of crowds and power became more elaborate, expanding various slender alliances, cutting entire contentions directly from the ground, the viscera of retrograde order, mirror inversion, beatification. Tombs and popes, spirally arranged, passed westward in canoes. Sculpted human heads, transferred to the “devil’s” sterile container  prevailed over evil and chaos. Or intellectualism. The fasting dead molded pithy  miracles, considering questions of need, unstaged acts, successive variations. The phenomenon was comparably rare, but certain neurons developed a reputation for arising directly from still-water homeostasis. To the interlocking seams of ocean surf and shrapnel, add 55 asymmetrical species of truth—slender, crystallized, flexible-jointed—that prey on devout nougats of charity. The poet reforms ritual sacrifice by assassinating rules and proof, recitative and aria. The faithful, serene, tend the unknown, its honey on the tongue.

 The photo is by cambiodefractal via Flickr.

April 9 poem: A private kabuki of strange stories (cutup)

I do take a lot of delight from the way words fall together. What lasts? Who knows? Perhaps some of the pleasure will linger in the reading. Today's words are from pages 756-757 of the desktop encyclopedia, Hoffman to Holderlin. Hokusai provided a serendipitous echo of March's pieces....

 

A private kabuki of strange stories

Straight lines and white squares roll over, tongues lolling. Decline requires life-size and miniature excesses in sequential sets, a ballad of personal failings, the psychopathic hero. The struggle is exterior, a circular dance of reputation, blotchy experience, masquerades, abstraction. To Hokusai, this failing structure was the domain of the hypothetical, a private kabuki of strange stories. His Thirty-Six Views of Invasions, Meatpackers, and Fever was lost, but a number of erratic surimono prints turned to political theater. The whole constructed fantasy succumbed irretrievably to “conversation pieces,” rash parody, progressive paralysis—comic sets in pirated editions. Wild flights of thought evolved. Enlightenment, the superfamily of depth, moves reluctantly, no wake or hiss, no effective prevention or treatment.  The bluff fails.  Survivors become chronically the fool. Yet a shepherd covered with mud and smoke anticipates the conflict between the ideal world and outlying life. Struggle becomes hereditary. Coma follows, perspective lost in the domain of shotmaking, missiles, paint-dripping quarantine. Art fought this. But mythology worked. The daughter married the rising sun. It cannot rise.

Photo by kumon, via Flickr.

April 8 poem: The margin recedes (cutup)

Today, time's spiraling into some other ending. The words are from pages 1246 and 1247 of the desktop encyclopedia: performance art to permittivity. Science and mathematics are full of exquisite language, I am finding. I wonder if those who use it ever day enjoy its richness....

 

The margin recedes (cutup)

Time is a machine to blend head and roots. A vessel to hold scent. A table arranged to reflect the delicate mathematical formulation of submerged purpose. Romans made nearly all orthodox art forms by blending of comic lineages and bequeathed psycho absorption—mirrors reflecting change, established lines breaking into small, pearl-like bodies evolved from properties, language, raw materials. Structure was understood to control rarer elements: fragrant aggregate, the soft tissue of gemstone and water-tube boilers. In the outermost shells, spiral or constant, simple harmonic motion is repeated in posthumous degradation and bouncing, swinging optics. The glass membrane cracks with concentric prisms to change the direction of permafrost light. No force has been improved since jazz, the ultimate source of extinction and counterfeiting. Nearly all opera is more or less language weathered to soil and poison. Related deposits of elements, their paddle wheel shells the favorite food of monologists, provide continuous bone remodeling staged as an open framework for developing prototype environments. As in gardens, or less sprawling systems: manuscripts, atoms of the same magnetic permeability, a guitar string vibrating precious olivine tissues. Even waste is artful. The margin recedes, substance eroding.

Photo by foilman (Henry Burrows) via Flickr.

April 7 poem: Once, then later (cutup)

 

Lots of writing, but little posting, so early April will unfurl in a string of posts today. I seem to have questions of origin on my mind, and more than a few pieces go to that theme. Today's words came from pages 1066-1067 of the Merriam-Webster's Collegiate Encyclopedia, Middlebury College to Mikan.

 

Once, then later

The earliest human waveforms were steel skeletons sheathed in biblical interpretation, rhythmic prosody used for money, asynchronous serial transmission. Adam never laughed. “Cracking” was the province of professionals, a dazzling game of chess. Semicircular prayer was widespread. Four dwarfs born in the Central period developed a bawdy nightclub act to transmit the scattered sparks of visual disturbance. Used bears, planes of extravagant onyx, basketball for drama, in an alteration of composed and improvised writings. “Less is more” was adapted from the first divine wind, and echo it before the ascension to heaven, the central void of the universe, a major premise that employs less unison, more improvisation. Or zithers. An administrative question: Was hell the metamorphic host of an “aura”? Was facade simply an imprecise term for permanent exile? The ornately decorated dialects of bagpipes, viols, oboe date to magma injected into an operational ceiling, usually with no formal training.   Four groups (incl. many women), sometimes called “gnats,” or “the mighty handful,” migrated to the dome of the heavens. Dictum: enlighten by analogy. That is, from literacy to music, the starting and stopping points in time, collaborating with passages, dizziness, art. One or two beats behind, a protein and an acid molecule separated. Bloodsucking patterns bear some resemblance to the raga. The gods mobilized after heavy losses. The steel-and-glass world is only mentioned once.

Photo by Nigel Howe, via Flickr.

 

April 6 poem: Mythology of my people (cutup)

Today's installment of the unfolding mythology of my universe comes from pages 132-133, baldachin to Ball (as in Lucille Ball). In between came Balenciaga and baleen whales. I do recommend the history that's summed up there. Baldwin II Porphyrogenitus and the Norse god Balder definitely deserve fans.

 

Mythology of my people

In adhering to the religion of fashion, ancestor cults of the third Latin emperor, Porphyogenitus (“born to the purple”) lived alternately in plastic rainwear, relics, roofing shingles. They could be harmed by nothing but mistletoe, were impervious to male pattern baldness, studied drama, sold both male and female mythologies. Their sumptuous lord president worked as a model. Balenciaga visited the underworld in the late 19^th century to ask for small crustaceans and allegories, and his style shows the influence of Adriatic ancestor cults and the Dance of Death. He became king, playing minor roles in films, became a preacher in Harlem. His belief in spirits disintegrated when aggressive bald eagles amused themselves by throwing intarsia at him. The beautiful son of Odin, homosexual, provoking continual breakups, hoped to disturb nobility, broke up parts of the imperial palace for firewood. The suborder disintegrated, and heightened states of passion. Whales refused to weep, prophesying sudden rainfall. Corset stays matted together to form a sieve.

 

There was so much royalty in play that I looked for an image of a crown. This one is by Michael Scott, scottphotographics.com, via Flickr.

April 5 poem: Cosmic comedy

At times it seems that there are a million myths wanting to be discovered somewhere. Today's reside in pages 372-373 of the desktop encyclopedia, Columbus to commedia dell'arte.

 

Cosmic comedy

Read as a narrative, comets typically tell a diffuse story: dust and gravity assigned to classes, coiled in sprays of bell-like clans, local groups that lack the lineage of bees or farmers. In the brittle atmosphere, a small, irregular language hidden in walls is subject to buckling. Spontaneous abnormalities scatter sunlight, encourage scandalous matter. Heat (or bridge hands) can alter axial loads, social standards, roads and canals. Home is pushed to the underworld, raw, hazy. Balance comes gradually. Logical analysis empties order into decorative bags used to treat wounds. The solar wind patterns telephone signals into permutations of nervous activity: lavish growth, guerrilla tactics, conformity. Dust particles combine with illicit love and other volatile compounds, objects chosen from a finite set by men or animals.  Books and their long glowing tails cause short losses of human foibles in thousands of years or not at all. War, crime and comedy have the same meaning arranged together in their gaseous envelopes. Each melts just in time, a cloud (coma) around the core. 

Comet photo by Michael Karrer, via Flickr.