Tree

Jar

Cups

Badger Burrow

There is much to say of badger in a vortex diminishing into Concord of the opposing vortex, the apex of each in the middle of the other's [b]ase, which is Yeats' Vision, but Joyce says it is, one world burrowing on another  (Boldereff, 75). To me Kafka's Burrow is not ambiguous at all and it attains all that feels sentient, far beyond the glyphs of Butler-Jouyece. If you read these beings you no longer need follow convention, so just let your solecisms ride. Not speaking of the underworld is the chief pursuit of all writing. Beings attracted to rock piles  collect them in memory, smoother than basketballs, river rock with berms of silt, gold traces. Sometimes badger browses below rosemary in the hill, but dreams to build up trail with cliff sheep, faint but real. Not hawk, dog, cat - badger builds entrances, exits at Texas Canyon, Enchanted Rock, Old Sarum, caer Cromlech. Berm burrows fort all  kinds of sleep. Badger day labors the night burrow. Mouse, Rat, day, night, sleep confine the other. Dream a burrow, no matter bairn, occupant meditation runs deep. Still Waters! Not that hawks brood tree lines to prevent cat sleep. Sleep is a trail below trees in the rock veined cairns. Yale prof Robert Shiller says Animal Spirits are a forecasting tool, that irrationality leads to wealth. Yellow Rattler, rich in irreason, what are your irreasons? Animal spirits know 1) the reality of hunger 2) laying low.  Love the sun, love night! Sleep! So Bunyan says "poor silly Mole, that thou should'st love to be, / Where thou, nor Sun, nor Moon, nor Stars can see." Pobrecito. Bunyan's tortoises are dug when raptors come down on wires and trees. He takes a white wicker chair out under the garden oak where women bathe in the afternoon red bud and almond blooms. Smoother than basketballs, berm beings collect in memory. Badger drowses below the hill: "I want to be a groundhog or rat, maybe a wolverine, badger or fox, feel the earth house like walls of flesh. In comfort to meditate, store nuts, build a house with exists, sharpen faculties, feel  bairn, build berms out of dirt and stone,  love a wheel barrow. Porcupines are naive as they can be. It is a form of meditation in the Dogen's Extensive Record discovered when I first searched the phrase  "the bright extensive will," which says "one who has gone beyond learning and is free from effort" gains "the opportunity of human form"..."emptied in an instant, vanished in a flash."  Those cannot be understood by discriminative thinking or the practice of supernatural power who seek  the dignified conduct beyond seeing and hearing" (Universally Recommended Instructions for Zazen). To this add nothing and everything believe according to the truth. Take, receive, impart, do and reflect on doing and speaking as the sound of the gong we raise compassion over all beings in distress.

This all has to do with the meaning of sleep. The badger works hard all day. Sleep is not confined to one or the other. Dreams come together in the work.

Lily I, II

A piece of string for Lily: We sent to the Kurds of Iraq to dig water wells, to Haiti, to Afganistan that very cold winter for tents and flew Jews to Israel from Russia. Aunt libby used to bless us this way. So while these things weigh in the balance you know it is to bless so this is sent with that and no other string attached. With love, D

Two Views

 "Jews are generally buried in a very simple way, however. We are buried in a plain wood casket/coffin with no metal fittings; our bodies are not embalmed, so that they may return swiftly to the earth.
When a Jewish person dies, a group of people within the Jewish community called the chevre kadisha (which simply means "holy society") prepares the body for burial. The persons who do the preparation are the same gender as the deceased. The body is undressed, covered with a sheet to maintain the person's modesty even in death, and washed. After washing, the body is dressed in simple white garments - loose top and drawstring pants of cotton; alternatively, a shroud may be used. The body is then placed in the casket/coffin. The head and face are also covered. If the deceased owned a prayer shawl, it is rendered no longer kosher by cutting off one corner with its fringes, and is placed in the coffin with the deceased. Any items that the family might wish to include are also placed in the coffin, and it is closed. The coffin always has holes drilled in it, so that the body may come in contact with the earth; some Jews choose to dispense with the coffin entirely.

In the time between the death and burial, the body is NEVER left alone. The body is ritually guarded by shomerim - guards or "keepers." The shomerim are not allowed to eat, drink, or perform any commandment in the presence of the deceased; it is considered to be mocking the dead, as a dead person no longer has the privilege of doing these things.

Jewish funerals are always "closed-casket." We do not believe in remembering the person as a dead body, but rather in remembering them as the living person that they were. Funerals are held within 24 hours of death if at all possible, unless that would place the funeral on the sabbath; in that case, they are held as soon after the sabbath as is practical.

We do not use flowers at our funerals; we believe that flowers are for joyous occasions, and when we lose someone dear to us, we are not joyful.

There used to be occasions when a Jew was not buried in a Jewish cemetery because they had committed suicide; this was before suicide was understood as a mental imbalance, and I haven't heard of it actually occurring in a LONG time. Jews are buried face-up, like anyone else, no matter where they are buried." http://answers.yahoo.com/question/index?qid=20080110051127AAN8E8M

Tortoise Carrying Pot

 

Tortoise Carrying Pot

The idea of Ko, "as the Shwo Wan explains it," is "of now walking, now halting, as the tortoise, traveling at ease in the untroubled mind," the essence of Kwang- tzu Tao, where "the largest and smallest creatures do not pass judgment on one another but equally find their happiness."(Legge, Chuang Tzu, Dover I, 128)

In the original Tortoise Carrying Pot of raw clay there are blues of cobalt carbonate and oxide, rutile, a green, nickel carbonate and yellow iron oxide. None of them will fire as such. The pink and blacks will be blue. When I brought it home I couldn't touch it when unveiled that morning. What use is the potter? I had rolled out B mix, laminated with Jamaica and the last found clays of that bag, took it down to 1/4 inch, laid it on a board, sifted on the oxides, pounded in the acanthus woodcut, pressed a cedar shim in ledges, rolled it up round a plastic tube, picked it up, set it on end and let it dry a little. Too soon I took off the tube to pack newspaper inside. The whole thing collapsed in a sheet. Using my chest, hands (I had rolled the papers up in a big ball) I stuffed the newspapers inside, picked it up and bounced it on the board, because otherwise it wouldn't sit up (La Primavera, the first of this series, fell in the firing). When I saw the tortoise I got a chill. 

Tortoise Carrying Pot

Comments: "I heard that in Ch'u there is a sacred tortoise which has been dead now some three thousand years and that the prince keeps this tortoise carefully enclosed in a chest on the altar of his ancestral temple." Chuang Tzu

I have given my tortoise an honored grave. Tracy, got her name from Hank, the Indian agent neighbor across the street who died and it was left to me to adopt Tracy and her mate Oscar or they'd be lost. Hank named her, wrote her name on her shell with his phone number, as he did for Oscar, the half as big male he got from the side of the road outside Nogales about 1950. They are centenarians. Tracy is not a member of the family in the sense that she comes in with the dogs, but every time we see her is an occasion for rejoicing, the way she stands, sits, walks, lifts a leg, her head. She has carved out a permanent domicile under some big logs that border a cement slab, dug way down under. The logs are bermed up on the other side, also there are sand bags and the whole is elevated so the flood cannot intrude. The life story of Tracy and Oscar is retold each August when he mounts her in the garden, very fierce little guy, and independent, he has many homes and comes out later in the season than she. We have had their offspring for a decade. The babies are hard to spot. Sometimes there are a dozen. When our Blessing chow was young she would pick them up and bring them to me gently in the yard. So I'm saying that to celebrate the tortoise is something longed for.

"But the Cherubim represent animal creation as well as man; therefore the animal creation will also be redeemed with man (G. H. Pember, Animals, 32): "It is not therefore strange that, in describing the great redemption scene at the close of this age, John should say, "and every creature which is in heaven, and on the earth, and under the earth, and such as are in the sea and all that are in them, heard them saying, "Blessing, and honor, and glory, and power, be unto Him that sits upon the Throne, and unto the Lamb, for ever and ever" 36.

Perhaps this is like the jeweled tortoise of the Emperor. I did eight of these because I could melt glass on the shell,  advertised that the Shemer wanted them for their gardens, 50 of them! but not. I did trade one to another vendor for a rusted  metal pig he was selling. I gave him the tortoise and he insisted I take the pig in exchange. A daughter traded for that pig  to hang on her front porch where it still hangs, the tortoise that became a pig.

Chuang Tzu

If you love Basho and outlaw bushido monks you love Chuang Tzu, who has his own story here, for his regard for tortoise, mugwort and yarrow here.

Yet shimmying sieves vast on cobalt roil audibly driven

"Yet shimmying sieves vast on cobalt roil audibly driven —but uncontrolled where the cobalt is uncontrolled also but quiet. But the cobalt is their condition? ...the huge whirlabout has feathery entrails emerging from their bending poles daggling the cobalt by a leaping speechless hartebeest ...the hartebeest wandering, the vast shimmying fractionation is heard from the cobalt...the fractionators grind the delicate cobalt future once. How can it (what) be the same as sound? ...paired in the condition of the quiet cobalt attacked by blasting motion, they’re hearing it." Leslie Scalapino, Floats Horse-floats or Horse-flows, Chapter 1, Becomes Floats.  PennSound, February 14, 2010

Pleistocene Horse

Bear is the piano, Mountain the pianist, Wilderness the composer.

Genghis Khan’s horse is 60 miles long

What is a horse, the universe will dispute. His sons will tell him what is a horse. It is different from what he said was a horse. They point that out, affirm and deny horsing around. That's it. "Separation led to completion, then ensued dissolution" (184). He says let us give up this devotion to our own views and adopt the "ordinary," meaning the simple use of things. Then stop (184). The ordinary is so arcane it can't be found among the immortals. Immortality, sageness, the superior man are all synomyms for idiot. We give everything to restore the commonplace world.

Note from Pleistocene horse: He wants to stand "in the center where he can respond without end to the changing views" of the affirming and denying (Legge, Chuang Tzu, 183). He resolves it with the joke, his horse. What is a horse? His son will tell him what is a horse. It is different from what he said was a horse. They point that out, affirm and deny horse around. My kingdom horse! That they should all be unhorsed. Now comes the horse quote which in the age of sound bites is as a horse:

"By means of a finger (of my own) to illustrate that the finger (of another) is not a finger is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not so by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a finger; and by means of (what I call) a horse to illustrate that (what another calls) a horse is not so, is not so good a plan as to illustrate that it is not a horse, by means of what is (acknowledged to be) not a horse. ( All things in) heaven and earth may be (dealt with as) a finger; (each of) their myriads may be  (dealt with as) a horse. Does a thing seem so to me? (I say that) it is so. Does it seem not so to me? (I say that) it is not so. We used to argue these things on long tennis trips, like the say that said, "Dust Storms May Exist," and austere elements of the periodic table. But it was a joke!

"Separation led to completion, then ensued dissolution" (184). Let us give up devotion to our views and adopt the "ordinary." The ordinary can't be found among the immortals. 

I have not progressed beyond my farm ancestors. Each morning I am at the fields in daylight, and earlier in the barn, tools ready, tending, My fields are historical fences, boundaries, my stock that night’s teaching when I awake. I am a farmer planting, weeding, hoeing, repairing on the family farm that has been around 300 years.

A wonder kammer was  seventeenth-century cabinets filled with preserved animals,  mythic creatures! In 1587, Gabriel Kaltemarckt advised Christian I of Saxony that three types of item were indispensable in forming a "Kunstkammer" or art collection: firstly sculptures and paintings; secondly "curious items from home or abroad"; and thirdly "antlers, horns, claws, feathers and other things belonging to strange and curious animals. So Holy Cow here are some of the sort. Anyway, what won’t go in a wonder kammer?

 

Item: Trojan Horse-Trojan Horse Trojan Horse was let in the city because of its art. This replica was found in old papyrus. It had Greece in the belly.  After a light spray of shino over found clays with B mix laminated, red shino sprayed and waxed, some trigger pulls of clear  penetrated the wax and diffused the orange.

Pony

They trapped them in Iceland

to work the British mines

and pull carts all their lives

 unless they got away

 and made such habitation for

a black horse with flaring nostrils

That was stomping mad.

PONY is really Pit Pony, or Pit Poetry. He spent his life at the bottom of a coal mine. He is the last of his kind. The split on his leg is where it was broken. It healed and it got him back up in the air again. There's no point to a broken pit pony. What can he pull? He has a cousin, Pity, an experimental rabbit who lived in a cage in the basement of the Experimental Science Building. His scientists turned the cage against the wall. 

Pit pony blind in Britain,

got rights in Europe with Ape,

registered to vote in condos

cases were pending in Spain.

Which Kafka's animals understood,

the citizen of Giant Mole

obsessed about it like a dog,

the thing that’s not,

the mole that’s not,

the mind that's not,

the ice foe's not,

dots comprehending

to the end

of pit ponies

deep in this belief

showed Kafka's animals

were men.

 White and red tail lemurs clung

the wall of Solzhenitsyn's cell,

pit gerbils down on the floor below

were shocked to octopeds.

To break the boundaries of all that;s not

these monsters deep at traffic stops

were eating Borges' colonel's coats of fur,

for the eagle spaniels

of Solzhenitsyn's men were animals.

 Detached down in "The Burrow"

electric lights pulsed from their heads.

To give those animals rights we sought

we gave up the ones we did.

We gave and brought the black carp up

the Mississippi Derrida bed,

borrowed safe mine ponies like snails

to pull empires big as whales. 

Note: Once they shot this into space at the Planet Formerly Known as Earth.

Those people doomed to walk with their heads down around the fire in Plato’s cave have counterparts among those who do to nature what is done to us. I mean the pit pony that pulled coal carts in British coal mines is an image of ourselves. They became blind from the darkness.

To borrow our identity from the natural means to reckon that pit pony blind in British coal mines, no matter what century, is an image of ourselves. As Kafka's ape become a man is now considered by the European Court of Human Rights for treatment of the same rights as people, cases pend in Spain and Austria to keep them "from being tortured."
BLACK CARP / SYMBOLIC SNAIL

Empathy for the world is empathy for the burrow. Whatever creature we endanger (salmon, coral reef, shark, prairie dog), what isn't endangered is the star of  El Señor de los Afligidos, the exotic black carp of the Mississippi, Jacques Derrida and the boundaries broken by tiny invasive snails. They sit a dozen to a dime. We preserve the pristine native, to profile and safeguard the indigenous, but surrender ourselves to the exotic right up until there is such "diversity" of the GMO seed and hybrid humans so as to destroy the natural, the way of Walmart. Diversity means monolith. Annihilate one hundred species to invite the one. The way we treat the natural is the way we treat ourselves, techniques used to save it must be used upon ourselves. Folk patterns are all that hold us to the root and stalk that the big blender is waiting to swallow.

Monolith masquerades as diversity. Diversity is its opposite. Likewise paradise is its opposite but made to seem not. Now is not called a paradise. Then is paradise. Now is a wish for paradise, a dream species of it when the thing is all around. This inverted bifocal, an anocular polyopy, down deep looking through the wrong end inverted prevents seeing that we are now in paradise. This is it baby!

Do not call it freedom when you get new siding for your house. Call it what it is, juxtaposing then and now, unless you think you're an unrealized Buddha when you're not, unless Buddha is a robot, a spirit Christian, except your paradise is poison. You live in a paradise that annihilates wilderness. You live in a cocoon-prevented knowing. We were made for danger and we live in paradise. What lacks? An antidote of stars and sea and the forests of meaning.

Comfort is annihilation. Satisfaction, full stomach. Reverse paradise has no edge of bark, pine, grass or predator.  This paradise has violated. Robots in prison! Of course it is not "paradise," the man-made inversion semantics, clothes dryers and dish washers, "frustration" at oil spills, fear of wilderness, trees that hide the darkness reversed so the good is evil, the evil is good. Not understood. In line with the bi-polar there are two Paradises. One destroys wilderness, the source of natural life. This paradise civilization made. It is every effort of power to control and domesticate, every effort to boil down to the most common.

Mortals

Baby Pegasus

Baby Pegasus

The Pegasus islands off the Aleutian coast are home to the Pegasus. For that reason they are called baby Aleutians and in childhood range the Pacific.  Many babies are sighted  at birth before they fly away. Then you can see them. But later their colors reflect the ice and arctic environment, blues, whites, beige, frost colors make them hard to see against the clouds, which is why they are mythological in the first place. Whether there are real such flying horses who can doubt? These are modeled from my years among them. 

 

The babies emerge head first with mane trailing down the back, body submerged in the mother’s. The baby’s wings are furled and it looks as though the mother’s head has disappeared. This confusion of bodies, wings and tails continues to the legs which are fragile, spindly and almost look like the rockers of a rocking horse. The front legs are open and the back legs funnel to a v. The body out of which the baby emerges looks rather like flower by this time, the head of the young sticking up as though emerging. Actually it flies out of the mother on its own just after this stage. The colors are striations of  whites, pales beiges, faded violets, faded maroons, ever pale with a head dress of all white plumage. This is useful for reflections while flying near the sun.  The wings of the mother  are spread even if the baby’s are not so it looks on the whole like it is in process of glide, the legs separated as if  about to race forward.

Of course they are always born as twins, fraternal we should say, or maybe the difference is from the birth order for they are  born some days apart. The Pegasus twin  seems to have heavier feet, less mane and its mouth is open  as if in full cry at being second or because it is born in song, for the horses sing as they fly. This one’s wings are more fully edged in ivory though the usual sky colors have a sense of the painted desert, subtle pastels. The second baby is often born with a face plate, but is less emerged  from the body, which may simply be due to the  different times and  days of maturity. In addition to the face plate it also has a body wrap as if coming undone, thickish but more spectacular  than its brother. Both are male according to custom, but parts of the island where females birth in much the same way are guarded by the adults for whatever reason.

There’s no point in denying that many people think them birds, they have wings after all, and they fly. This stems from a lack of imagination maybe. Among primitives on the islands where they live the Pegasusians are seen more like we would see spaceships. We have only assayed the appearance of the baby. The adults are several times larger than we would think which just adds to the riddle of how they can fly, like some flying boxcar or presidential jet dwarfs the planes around them. To compare them to planes is a good idea and you can imagine the texting produced by seeing one pass as you recline and look out the window. It leaves open the question as to where they are going, but they might ask the same of us. The answer, to Jakarta, is as meaningful as if they were to say to to Andulusia. To understand them better, we fly to real places so called, they fly to mythologicalones. Blame Darwin for this separation of fact from myth, but it has not been so long that myth was  fact in the eyes of the world. Then people lived on the ground in huts, died young, but on the plus side saw the stars and lived in rainstorms. We posit that such a life style produces myth more than ours. Living indoors among city lights produces fact. Facts however are brutes while myth is forgiving and produces wonder. We should send anthropologists back to that age to advise us on its merits. Of course this was done but many went native and never returned. It was speculated they were seen riding the backs of Pegasus past the astonished windows of airbuses.

One thing it shows is how short the age of fact really was, since we, having left it, have entered the new age of make believe. If it seems these three ages  appear in descenant sequence perhaps can only be known in a fourth age yet unknown. Thus the four ages of the Greeks would come full circle and a lot of foolish things in poems bear out in fact and we will end up quoting them. 

Meanwhile the  horses are flying past the airplanes invisibly because the screens are down and nobody is looking out. They think they see ufos and seek contact with alien races and forces but deny the horses. Does that seem awkward or backward?

That they are a flying breed of horse  would not be believed by a race such as ours who at one time did not believe a bird could fly, despite the contary.

The Pegasus islands off the Aleutian coast are home to Pegasus. For that reason they are called baby Aleutians and in childhood range the Pacific. Many babies are sighted  at birth before they fly away. Then you can see them. Later their colors reflect the ice and arctic environment, blues, whites, beige, frost colors make them hard to see against the clouds, which is why they are mythological in the first place. Whether there are real such flying horses who can doubt? These are modeled from my years among them.

Coyote Song

The Indians call me Walto Dog. What-A-Dog. What-A-Dog! I sing myself and shake the hills. Stop this night with me and loose your throat.

Once a time in fairy tale
a dog would save the pekldfille.
He was all loving the pep0le.
 went up and down saving the peoopel.
In alleys, down basements, protect,
pertect, peertect du peoplez."

 ***

♪ I loved blood more than berry and beetle,

I loosed blood more than Arthropod.

I'm no mouse in store for a tiny carcass, a wish for a centipede.

I seek the lame, halt and blind in my way, for impurity lives.

I'm a doctor, a healer. There to help I came, to introduce painless to pain.

You feel pain, scatter teeth, rename. Hiawatha What-A-Dog!.

I be down to get you in the broadcloth shrubbery

I see through the honey. Hiawatha!

Medium of change and exchange that forgives.

All pass but this, the blood that washes, commerce of the same. ♪

 ***

♫ And now the warm white bread I eat.
Hig a pig a pop.
when a helicopter wants take out.
I show up.

Polly put the kettle on
this jug so empty
and serve my frien.'
Loaf on the grass,
agued pie of my fast.

The best of the toothsome fat is the blab of the pave.

Folks who do damage, do the same. ♫

 ***

Daffo-Dog

A was for the apple.

I cut it up for food.

B was for the baby bird I visit after school.

We ate the hot fry.

D, when day was over, I could see the moon.

But my Binky could not rise.

Rise up you stars of stew.

I flown down a brandy,

a ruff-cask pooch with stuff.

Diddle down them animals

 with the nerve to call.

We get to know each other.

I am poet of Body and Soul. What-A-Dog Cosmos!

Can you speak?

That lantern make you flit.

We both got to fend for life and truth. I did.

My tongue, every atom of blood

Form'd from this soil, this air,

Poet of Body and Soul,

Born of parents there. Creeds in abeyance

I harbor a school.

Long that smile I feasted. What-A-Dog Cosmos!

***

When you go down to defeat your enemy

hang him round your neck like a bowling ball.

Make him into a god, hang his head inside,

put him on your wrist for life insurance.

Sell him to tourists. They need more gods.

Speak Space Voyager from the mountain side.

♫ "I'll be down to get cha in a broadcloth honey.

You better be ready so I won't be late,

you one nice dry pig. ♫

"There's nothin' you can do 'cept age and wait."

 from What A Dog Coyote Sings Ai-Ai-OO-OO @ Gone Lawn

Pit Pony

Pit Pony

Pit pony blind in England

got rights in Europe with Ape,

registered to vote in condos

cases were pending in Spain.
When Kafka's animals understood
the citizen of Giant Mole
obsessed about it like a dog,
the thing that’s not
the mole that’s not
the mind that's not
the ice foe not,
dots comprehending
to the end
of Pit Ponies
deep in this belief
showed Kafka's animals
were men.

 White and red tail lemurs hung

the wall in Solzhenitsyn’s cell,

pit gerbil hacks on the floor below

were shocked to octoped

to break the boundaries of all that's not

these monsters deep at traffic stops

were wearing Borges’ colonel’s coats of fur,
for the eagle spaniels of Solzhenitsyn’s men
were animals.

 Detached down "The Burrow"

 lights pulsed from their heads.

To give those animals rights we sought

we gave up the ones we did.

We gave and brought the black carp up  

the Mississippi Derrida bed,

borrowed safe mine ponies like snails

 to pull empires big as whales.

Homecoming

This won first place in free standing sculpture at the AZ State Fair 2012 under the title Looking for Work.

Bourgeois Le Ubu Roi

WHY were the investigations Leaked at Trans World Portals?

We must bring in the philosophers. Apply The Structure of Scientific Revolutions to Wordsworth fleeing the French Revolution (or Annette Vallon and her child), Byron dying in the Greek revoluTrue purpose and intent are not hid. tion of 1824, Blake celebrating the American Revolution for his flame.

But these do not matter to the revolutionary contexts that have come to be, Frantz Fanon inciting violence to radicalize the populace to more urgently overthrow the powers, agents provocateur. High down, low clown, the poet as clown, low buffy bred baboon, buffoon.Images from Ubu et la grande Gidouille (1979), Jan Lenica's take on Alfred Jarry's Ubu.http://50watts.com/#1183005/Jan-Lenica-s-Ubu 

That's why dear people The Investigations  were leaked.   here 


History Roundup


"Probably we're going to ask if civilization is a psychosis, a hypnotic trance, an enchantment or simple chicanery while at the same time we benefit. Sure we benefit from the revolution of freedoms. Believe everything and nothing. All promises to be the good intention of story tellers. The narrative compared to the evident manipulation of our thoughts is the extent of our enlightenment. Stories are told here as if they were real events." 

That’s what fictional scientist said of his experiments and involvement in the History Roundup (as it was called after). It was written entirely  in that serious, semi-serious style of a scientist who wants to be relevant, but doesn't know how. Fictionalized events, he said, are undoubted facts, as in any fiction woven together with the ridiculous and absurd. All scientists were absurd to Wold, from the Greek philosophers, considering the ancestor of Darwin, who "saw" and reported light flashing from the marigold, or the "research" of Newton into biblical codes of Daniel and Revelations, indeed, "renaissance science sought to prove all of Psalm 19." What to us is absurd was to them holistic living! Wold breaks with all these protocols of society and science and more, first by experiments so heinous he should be silent about them, and second by saying so in broad daylight.

That there was a disagreement between two machine interfaces in Wold's uploading the new version resulted in cancellation of the entire file and its data. At present, 2.0, reloaded with what would have been, comprises the Letters, Starchitectures, Welcome to the Party of the Land, Cartoon at the End of the World, Secret Writing,  the Oops, and back to FauxnonFic. Anybody who  persevered through this process of a hundred visions and revisions hoped the text would settle. Three times that much was canceled and twice that exists in other states. Myth becoming fact is painful right in front of the face.

So anyway, this seismic paradigm of the transgenic obsolesces every aspect of the subconscious, every aspect of the inter relation of human beings and every aspect of news management. It was designed to obscure the fact and data of the transhuman run- until it was already formed and then revealed. Crisis management means that greater and greater catastrophes are caused to occur until at last appeal is made to that which is (putatively) greater than the human. That is, the counter-human world is invited and given carte blanche to heal the atmosphere, oceans, forests, you name it. Every aspect of economic  challenge is also meant to set up this invitation. Wold saw as more significant that in the  paradigm shift of all understanding of physical and mental, the physical was superseded. This Gnostic element set up the hardest thing for humans to believe, the entrance into earth time and space of discarnate entities unbelieved, hence all the more empowered. It made a new metaphysic of the machine. (except that the machine was impaired, lacking a subconsciousness, its own experience, and creative thought).

What then, Wold asks, is creative thought in the metaphysics of non human consciousness. Not to be taken seriously, a long time ago Tracy Kidder titled his book, The Soul in the Machine, but the mere computational power of a trillion brain cells does not connote consciousness. It is mere power. The irrelation of consciousness and intelligence prevents creative purpose and the contradiction that makes a soul. Pretend that the machine interfaces with a human if you will, but  the human is a mere monitor, reflection of the machine, not any kind of partner with it. So if the machine is to have a soul it must have a spirit. Therein lies the paradox of the transhuman, for the human already has a spirit but is to give it up to the machine. This must mean that the machine had a spirit all along, that it found a way to entrance life, biology, bypassing the usual confines through chimeric mutation of a synthetic mind.

His Starchitect Hotel of a 20th century comic, when Lit and fiction were so vexed with truth, was supplanted in the 21st century when movies were in fact the only truth. Hollywood, as previously comics, gave the correct version of events, which had often first occurred in literature hundreds of years before, so it only remains for them to be correctly remade. No wonder things are the opposite of what they seem. Myth became fact and fact became myth. This was even more true of science. We only ask what is it. Who can say what it means?
 

The third revision of this collection with very much more material added, with a slight name change, was also fiction, not real.  That's however when Opiomes was formed from the chaos visions of the starchitect, Ishtar Hotel in its first real. Wold actually blames Coleridge when the Trojan Horse formed of the spit of Poseidon out of the dread locks of Medusa. Trojan, like Pegasus, retained the rubric of its Severed Head. Pegasus and his brother Chrysaor were formed just at that moment when Perseus severed Medusa's. Then immigrant rode from his Denver Batcave, yes, home of the Broncos, the Trojan Neptune Pegasus, and Mustang Sally. There was much of that. One became two out of this chaos. Myth becoming fact might be a form of absurdism or surrealism, but it dearly seeks to approach the irony of Jonathan Swift.

The word Wold invented from Coleridge to describe this change was Opiome. Or otherwise, the time of alteration. Genetically altered science and politics were a strange blend, concurrent with genetically altered religion and life. Genetic here smacks of metaphor, but alteration does not. In fast food you supersize as on PBS you supersize the brain. These matters also have to do with acceleration, speeding up the time allotted as if the earlier you arrive the better, but of course the process of arrival is everything. This goal oriented psychology justified quantity as the ultimate measure. How many touchdowns, home runs or dollars is also supersizing. All supersizing is alteration. This thinking challenged every recognized norm. As said, the boundaries had been removed. What does architecture and the appurtenances of its grounds, the buildings in sculptures, ponds, pools, stairs have to do with politics? The creation or destruction of the pyramids or Afgan Buddhas seems more like religion, but it is a hybrid of religion and politics. When the politics is gone the architecture remains, in ancient cases hiding the tablets of Gilgamesh, Sumerian writing, hieroglyphs, in more recent cases the very bones of its progenitors residing in another architecture, the British Museum. Records of religion and state in architecture indicate massive structures in ancient China and Rome which imagination suggests to be a greater overarching culture than is known. Modern America and this world system have monuments of architecture defined by ideas, post re-de-constructivists etc, but there is no (obvious) religion or state to accompany it. There is however an understate that seems like a state which at first is as diffuse and boring an architecture as fascist aesthetics. Hilter's art collection, Communist aesthetics Wold saw as no better.
That is why these were put in a camp to be managed. Protected from those who would harm, picked up on some  pretext, violation of code, provoked until they responded rashly causing further pretext to be held. This had nothing to do with fungus or Laurel and Hardy but everything to do with the messianic end and Franz. Wold's copy of Messianic Speculation by Abba Silver was much worn, but not his Kafka. I think of him as the two interlocutors (minus one) refer to themselves as apes, invoking Address to the Academy. To ape or not to ape, "You are a sign of the end" says W. Actually we both are" (41). 

This constant revisiting of self-effacement was one of the most remarkable building events in Germany, the burning of the Reichstag, a symbol affecting more than politics. Created or destroyed, but mostly destroyed, the Twin Towers likewise were afeared to be known as such, cast instead as a patriotic act of revenge against the perps, the same pretext as the Reichstag. Lacking long established state architecture, gods and kings, the world shorn of the gods left only what those epic states maintained, Tyranny. Yet oddly the modern said the earth had never been more free. How to get people to say the opposite of the true was fun, Wold saw, but not new. So with Opiomes, in those ancient worlds, even in Elizabethan England, you spoke to and for the court or were put to death. How do we know any of this is true ourselves? We don't. The trends are too large to see. Academics spin the web of spider government that hosts the fly. The best we can see is in the art, architecture, Jonathan Swift, Nathaniel West, Hart Crane, really the list is so long we will not be done. But they are dismissed as imaginative personal visions, even Blake is taken as irrelevant to the modern state. But there are plenty of professors to tell us what they mean, which is to say, hide the truth that they reveal. But the buildings speak from the rooftops to the ground below, so there you will find traditions of Aztec, Inca, Greece, Rome, Babylon.
Dante is an odd choice to be the inventor of all this super human since he likewise invented  the reptile man, man swallowed by his sins so much he was consumed with the beast, a living bestiary, like to the minds most monstrous. So while Ovid transformed men there was always the chance of the divine showing through like Apollo upon Danae; not so in Dante, said Wold, where in hell the men are transformed by their sins into reptiles, wolves, snakes, swallowed up in outer form because their minds within were ever so transformed. They were so long like the beasts they became them. So the man was transformed by his thoughts and so Wold sought to emulate the son who was in the Father as he was in him.

Wold's hope in this was that it would all be rejected to save the pain of confronting ourselves at the last minute in the extra terrestrial experience of those about to receive it.

UnRelation of consciousness and intelligence
Tilt-A-Whirl Polymer XP guillotine fellowship

In their first products, dummies were stacked in the death train. Then they hurled the wolf at the deer. That, dawg, is how St. Stephen saw them rush: “they rushed him and dragged him out of the city to lay their clothes at the feet of a young man.” Mengele takes the cloak off so it doesn’t get blood on the gov’t. But no reason to forbid home use. Who doesn’t want a  guillotine in the closet for a stray rooster not performing, or cheese, bread and meat? If you are new to the lot who join the guillotine throng, assume the honor of Sir Thomas. The head is nyet. To be or not to be is a subject of Madame Tussaud.  

What’s the cause of simplicity in these priests? Sales. As soon as the king heard he was the head of gold he made a statue of himself. The head stuck up out of a burning plain. Rediscovered Babylon filled in the gaps. German archeologists turned planetary resources into hybrids. Ma Wa  has not told us everything. Cover-up, dressed in its opposite, wore a fish costume on the Ishtar Gate, Marduk rode! Come on Dagon!

The knowledge that this machine could not program itself out of existence, got swallowed up. See that is the only way to become human, negate yourself. This by product of the gods was believed without contradiction. That means the news channels covered it. Corporate Assuaged Care at the shrine of Moloch gave hospital beds. Millions of stem cell donors gave genes to assuage guilt and fulfill the labs. Human illuminate in every grocery sang “come buy, come and buy.” This pretext of the idol’s head in the plain gave forth gas. Obama needed to increase the bubble.

Where did these explosions begin? The engineering faculty in early drafts made it Troy. Stylized pics of Snoop Dog and Flower Bomb ornamented the eyes and nose, necks and arms. They were cute Kawaii and acht!  Bomb mashing tots and bunnies flew. Bomb-transformed gravity however couldn’t talk. Hun-ploding automatics bombed prepubescent eyes like clouds. Little Bloy, Little Giryl, got bombed. “Art, si! Explode!”  The sun bomb lit Godzilla. Mushroomed into Ultraman. La bomba gave Viagra to the sun. Look in your underwear! Fragments fell from big company Pharm dolls.  Killy has no mouth, just eyes and nose, because La Bomba does.

 Settle not therefore before what you will answer when you are betrayed for I will give you a mouth.

As such they called it The Heavenlies but it looked like Dada Pop. That is not what it sounds like however, so to prove it I propose it was a ride, a Tilt-a-Whirl to consciousness that over centuries of alteration created before it is dreamt a woods that come to Dunsinane.  If you think that means trees then the helium is working. It’s just another fail safe. Everyone knows the weather is cracking as Yakusa comes down in hurricane and KGB drys up the leaves. Dr. Strange drives the storm. Disinformation forms  hi and lo pressures. Bill Apocalypse is the name of Bill Gas.
Tilt-a-Whirl Riders swing these orbits wide to each side. Which allows entry to Neither Space. The Hegelian thermometer Repeated alterations occur in the loop to alter this domain. If you feel dizzy that’s why you’re on the ride. Each night trucks spray down alleys to decease the Schumann Resonance to get people back to sleep.
Tilt-a-Whirl is a flat ride waltzer. Centrifugal and gravitational forces spin cars in different directions at variable speeds. Riders may experience nausea. They are spraying each night to complete the negative optical transfer to the rest of the world. You have to stay in your seat. Gnomic events transfer consciousness, body parts to every globe. FEMA train and FEMA beast, animated within, carries its first cargo manacled end to end. I tell you the guillotine was added by designers later. They were overcome at concocting such a grand means to liquidate. Rocketing down the night tracks sealed, there were no cracks in the floors. Evidence of this Polymer Experiment is everywhere.

Right away the Smithsonian and Library of Congress made an instant transfer from space/time to myth/fact. The Johnson Memorial exhibited  tetrahedral cheese from the Martian colonies. These cheeses with 26 hexagonal centers were stored below the equatorial ridge. You might as well ask why buildings are square or radar reflective. Museums are artificial satellites, Mars wars with obelisks and organs, as if civilization needed an audience to observe it. The streets circled after that wrong turn off Constitution. Please stay in your seat.
It is impossible to bring railing accusations against higher powers, indeed, Michael could not bring one in his own name against the Covering Cherub. Staging depends on time, place, mood. Fellow writers and dramatists bring your own. Compartments wall off intellect from sense. Otherwise the conclusion is heinous. If speech is staged was the whole event too? Subtexts question us all: “I hope that over the next several days, next several weeks and next several months we all reflect on how we can do something about some of the senseless violence that ends up marring this country.” Never ask and if so, what? Compartments must wall sense because the conclusion is unthinkable. Goldman Sachs calls it death.  That all institutions are inherently demonic is a speck in the eye of  the Cherub.
The Greenhouse Effect made these new/oldies feel at home. The Defense Advance Research Projects Agency of the U.S. (DARPA) constructed an enhanced, hybrid, super mind to beat the Russians. The SEALS might be part fish. If it sounds like Swift, Gulliver according to his kind, the organic machine was dead serious when it came online to the 10 to the 26 trillion trillion brain. Singular fiat, old livers and stomachs of the past dug into Palestine. Boasts in architecture venerated and worshiped organs on the National Mall
the arrival of the gods of these building body parts
Compare the number of days and nights these peasants spent in air, under sun and star against the puta Mars, who when living failed, took a planetoid  and settled off The Urn. That was in the NASA Museum. No ocean, no air. No tan. Compared to the dream of Santa Monica pier the analogy held for people secluded in rooms of flickering screens who lost their health contemplating themselves. No weather or grandparents. The Goden scientist demagogued appeals for justice into goden prophets who said they would fix it with facts of their own, overwhelm people with artificial food engineered to make them hungry and then dead. There’s the three harvests.  The Goden Age gave health and life fair weather obesity. There’s immortality. Members of herds were  told by demagogue news to question aggressively any voice that challenged this view.


Gnomic events transfer from the passage of NAFTA to dispossess three million small Central American farmers of their land for agribusiness, to remarket their loss by attracting them to Florida and California to pick crops, bent over, irradiated, toxified by sprays and broken and incompetent at 40 so liberals can bemoan immigration policies in Scarsdale that advantage further Goldman specs. It is a win win for agriculture and investments, farmers from Hanford Washington run the halls of the Pentagon with gold tumors, “one breasted women from Utah, uranium miners wheezing, squads of wolves and mountain lions discover what happened to the forests, glowing radioactive tortoises, mobs of shoeless Mexicans, dolphins and orcas with embedded radio collars each lunging for their files where their lives are buried alive.” (Blood Orchid).

6. Domain Transfer

Democracy controlled most by the races who could speak. Experimentation upon this people was best, dozens and dozens of nuclear tests conducted in America, far more than the fallout of Hiroshima and Nagasaki. (Black) convicts were rearrested and leased into the communities from which they had been freed in the south, reconvicted on the film of events. Central America was pamphleted for cheap labor immigrants. Genocide perpetuated upon eastern tribes; death marches and broken treaties on the west, entire prairie was removed and polyphenols replaced drinking water, gmo seeds the natural.  Chemtrails crossed the sky, All the while  people distracted by media consumed, made obese, made to divide against each other by strategies of the real rulers. Obama is English. Stop and search is English. English Only is English. Fight and die for your country is English. Dare say, the English are needed now more than ever because after hundreds of years of divide to conquer, subgroups know about it. Only Tilt-a-Whirl middle class ethnics and race believe, so the slogan Save the Middle Class means save the English. Believe and believe. Not to believe unleashes a horror comparable to the memories of soldiers who fight terror against the people of the world, but the war is on themselves. When you remember and are told this is not what happened at all, no, not what I meant at all, dither like Prufrock or get about your business. What business? You know.

7.
Goden Age
Were dinosaurs really revived with tatters of DNA, engineered, then reengineered? If dinosaurs will Yeats be raised, for transmortals sought selective resurrection of important persons, Max Planck?  Tom Gilbert begged that the agenda of the Transhuman was not about his grandmother. “An expert in ancient DNA at Copenhagen University, who with Schuster and Webb pioneered the harvesting of mammoth DNA from hair, [he] admits that as a student of mammoths, he’d be the first to go see one trundle across a paddock….” If you can do a mammoth, you can do anything else that’s dead, including your grandmother. But in a world in global warming and with limited resources for research, do you really want to bring back your grandma?” National Geographic, May 2009).
Brought back by hair or bone the grave of Gilgamesh was dug and the Smithsonian hid the excavations. This sounds totally like the search for Merlin’s grave in That Hideous Strength. It impacts  King Ramses and whoever else  would return with plans, “come back to tell you all, I will tell all.” Grandma.
Different sects in the region of Bethshemesh-Washington-Heliopolis worship the organs along the river. Prototypes of A-Heads writhe like rubber bands. Lower aspects of organ worship around the city involved kidneys and lungs looking down into the small intestine. They found a second prostate! Rivers ran down the sides of hills in perfect compliment to the Monument Penis and the Capitol Womb!  Asses big and little were coupled in size and shape to the brains beyond. The Egyptian past is being put to really good use.
I drove past the monuments but in another dimension. It’s hard to explain, institutions stripped of façade. They surprise the careerists who build them. Events staged as real are reported as real to manipulate sympathy and anger in the whole. Everybody has their own  emotions written by flood, hurricane, earthquake, lone gunmen and vid games. Cities destroyed by this persistent vision of the future at the exhibit of American Exploding Art were a  mutual misunderstanding between the rescued and rescuer. 
Don’t ask anybody to believe public events are staged like bodies, buildings and the cosmos.
At this point it is necessary to stop for the night. There are a thousand Tilt-a-Whirls.