Saturday, March 31, 2012

Friday, March 30, 2012











Receive  sacrifices and the delights of cruelty.
Trembling I sit day and night, my friends are astonish'd at me,
Yet they forgive my wanderings, I rest not from my great task!
To open the Eternal Worlds, to open the immortal eyes of Man inwards into the Worlds of Thought, into Eternity ever expanding,
the human Imagination.
O Saviour pour upon me thy spirit of meekness & love:
Annihilate the Selfhood in me, be thou all my life!
Guide thou my hand which trembles exceedingly upon the rock of ages.

We who dwell on Earth can do nothing of ourselves, every thing is conducted by Spirits, no less than digestion or sleep . . .
When this verse was first dictated to me I consider'd a monotonous cadence like that used by Milton & Shakspeare & all writers of english blank verse, derived from the modern bondage of rhyming, to be a necessary and  indispensable part of verse. But I soon found that in the mouth of a true orator such monotony was not only awkward, but as much a bondage as rhyme itself.
I therefore have produced a variety in every line, both of cadences & number of syllables.
Every word and every letter is studied and put into its fit place; the terrific numbers are reserved for the terrific parts, the mild & gentle, for the mild & gentle parts, and the prosaic, for inferior parts, all are necessary to each other.
Poetry fetter'd, fetters the human race. Nations are destroy'd, or flourish, in proportion as their poetry, painting and music, are destroy'd or flourish!
The primeval state of Man was Wisdom, Art, and Science.

Now I will speak my mind!  
Where is my Great Sin?
She is also thine.
I said: now is my grief at worst, incapable of being surpassed: but every moment it accumulates more & more.
It continues accumulating to eternity: the joys of God advance.
For he is Righteous: he is not a Being of Pity & Compassion,
He cannot feel distress: he feeds on Sacrifice & Offering: delighting in cries & tears & clothed in holiness & solitude;
But my griefs advance also, for ever & ever without end.
O that I could cease to be!
Despair! I am despair created to be the great example of horror & agony: also my prayer is vain.
I called for compassion: compassion mock'd,
Mercy & pity threw the grave stone over me & with lead and iron bound it over me for ever.
Life lives on my consuming: & the Almighty hath made me his contrary,
To be all evil, all reversed & for ever dead: knowing and seeing life, yet living not:
how can I then behold and not tremble; how can I be beheld & not abhorr'd?

Striving with Systems to deliver individuals from those Systems.
That whenever any Spectre began to devour the dead,
he might feel the pain as if a man gnaw'd his own tender nerves.
Man, a little grovelling root, outside of himself.
Negations are not contraries: contraries mutually exist: But negations exist not:
Exceptions & objections & unbeliefs  exist not: nor shall they ever be organized for ever & ever.
If thou separate from me, thou art a Negation:
a mere Reasoning & derogation from me, an objecting & cruel spite and malice & envy:
but my emanation, alas!
will become my contrary
O thou negation, I will continually compel thee to be invisible to any but whom I please,
& when and where & how I please and never, never!
Thou shalt be organized as a distorted & reversed reflexion in the Darkness and in the non entity:
nor shall that which is above
ever descend into thee.
Thou shalt be a non entity for ever.
And if any enter into thee, thou shalt be an unquenchable fire and he shall be a never dying Worm, mutually tormented by those that thou tormentest, a Hell & despair for ever & ever.

Tell Him: I will dash him into shivers, where & at what time I please.
To those I hate: I can hate as well as they!
From every one of the Four Regions of Human Majesty there is an outside spread without, & an outside spread within,
Beyond the outline of identity both ways, which meet in One:
An orbed void of doubt, despair, hunger & thirst & sorrow.
Three immense Wheels, turning upon one-another into non-entity, and their thunders hoarse appall the Dead, to murder their own souls, to build a Kingdom among the Dead.
No sons, no hateful peace & love, no soft complacencies with transgressors
meeting in brotherhood around the table or in the porch or garden.
No more the sinful delights of age and youth and boy and girl, and animal and herb, and river and mountain, and city & village, and house & family.

Wash'd by the water-wheels of Newton:
black the cloth in heavy wreathes folds over every Nation.
Cruel works of many Wheels I view, wheel without wheel,
with cogs tyrannic moving by compulsion each other,
not as those in Eden, which wheel within wheel in freedom revolve in harmony & peace.

Beneath the oak & palm, beneath the vine and fig-tree,  self-denial!
I see the four-fold Man, the humanity in deadly sleep and its fallen emanation.
I see the Past, Present & Future, existing all at once before me;
O divine Spirit sustain me on thy wings!
That I may awake.
Bacon & Newton sheath'd in dismal steel; their terrors hang like iron scourges.
Reasonings like vast Serpents infold around my limbs, bruising my minute articulations.
I turn my eyes to the schools & universities of Europe, and there behold the loom of Locke, whose woof rages dire.















Awkwardness arm'd in steel; Folly in a helmet of gold.
Weakness with horns & talons; ignorance with a rav'ning beak.
Every emanative joy forbidden as a crime; and the emanations buried alive in the earth with pomp of religion.
Inspiration deny'd; Genius forbidden by laws of punishment.
I took the sighs & tears & bitter groans. I lifted them into my furnaces, to form the spiritual sword that lays open the hidden heart.       

            blake 1820







Thursday, March 29, 2012

codeVcode








































If you want to talk about Neal why do you do it--you stopped me before I had a chance to continue, stop won't you!

Listen, I'm going to  tell  you--read well: you have to take care of yourself, hear it?--give me a chance -- you think  I've no art  me French?

--eh?--idiot-crapule-piece of shit-sonofabitch--bastard--pig-clown-shitmouth-longmouth-ugly face,shitpants, piece of shit,sucktoungue, big fool, wantashit pants,  thats worse-right in the face!--hit it! (frappe) -eat it!-fuck!-scram me Gavin!

-swallow Celine,  eat  him raw  your Genet,  Rabelais?  He woulda wiped your neck on his ass.  But enough, its not interesting. Its not interesting goddamn  French.

Listen, Neal is full of shit; let him go; he is your friend, let him  dream; he's not your brother, he's not your father, he's not your Saint Michael, he's a guy, he's married,  he works,  go sleeping on the other side of the world, go thinking  in the Great European night.

I'm explaining him  to you,  my way,  not yours, child, dog--listen--go find  your soul , go  smell  the wind-go far

Life is a pity.

Close the book, go on--write no  more on the  wall, on the moon,  at the dog's,  in the sea in the snowing  bottom,  a little poem.

Go find God in the nights.  The clouds too. When can it stop this big tour at the skull of Neal; there are men, things outside to do, great huge tombs of activity  in the desert of Africa of the heart,  the black angels, the women in bed with the beautiful open arms open for you in their youth, some tenderness shrouded in the same bed,  the big clouds of new continents, the foot tired  in climes so mysterious, don't go down the hill of the other side of your life for nothing.

A true real American is a mystery to us, to U.S., somewhere and somehow he became like Neal and stands here among us.  In my romance I have traveled far to find a cousin to the Greek.  And in my romance I have traveled far to see an American, one that reminded me of the Civil  War soldier in the old photo who stands by a pile of lumber in a drizzle , waiting for arrest, backgrounded by pine brush bottoms all wet and dismal in an Alabama afternoon in the wilderness of hoar.

                 -jack


































Wednesday, March 28, 2012

Saturday, March 24, 2012

Wednesday, March 21, 2012









Method 8.03d
Liquefaction

obtain imaging that is difficult to track
under a tree
a hedge's leaves
stars
the hum
random moving parts
your left hemi will struggle
to fixate on a point(s)
can almost feel it in my left eye
but thats an anecdote

its too subtle to say relax
but try to inhibit as much as possible
this impulse toward certainty
allow points to move
waves will appear
levels of patterns moving
and  it  will become difficult
to distinguish independent
free moving groups
from any frailties of vision

increasing the authority
of  the right hemi
may be switchable at any  time
may be useful
since most sources of fun and mystery
involve excitation of the right brain
but this time without ego





I am invisible, he thinks often.
And Exempt.
Immunity has been  granted to me,
for I do not lose my cool.
Polarity is selected at will,
for I am not ionized
and I possess not valence.

Call me inert and featureless but
Beware, I am the Shadow,
free to cloud men's minds.

But breathes there a soul
with man so dead
who never to his head has said
is there anything happening

            richard farina









Monday, March 19, 2012


power doesn't persuade
even discuss
but eliminates risk
which is speech
of conscience
from each member
which behaviour traditions
will fight to death
hopefully yours
because to not control
the discussion
changes a game
thats why  you hear
about gas and women
a $300/yr distraction
while millions go to banks daily
three billion every morning
for american war
which aren't affecting the economy
these aren't open to discussion
for any alternative
is not only ill designed
but somehow evil
suspicious of character
insulted by a god
as unpatriotic
and punishable

might be american
could be german
or  chinese
but in this revolution
IDEA will embody
truth will be seen





thats why they talk
to theatre audiences
who in a party
will not apply logic
to weakness

the country is sick
its attitude and rule
is unhealthy
for longevity
happiness
dooming
Everything

no way to defeat it
laws like iron
yet a breach is needed
as at the founding
this turning
at the end
of the ancien regime

dont be scared
dont let reality
be sold back to you
by the same sh*tty boss
that looks like mitt 
taking over the bankrupt
to sell the assets

Expect us







Sunday, March 18, 2012



















the american spring


















NYPD whine about $17 million in 2012 for public assembly and speech by the Occupy citizenry which is 3% of their usual $551 million in overtime billing. 
Arrested pay extra.




























Saturday, March 17, 2012

Thursday, March 15, 2012

It was of a night, late, lang time agone, in an auldstane eld, when Adam was delvin and his madameen spinning watersilts,
when mulk mountynotty man was everybully and the first leal ribberrobber that ever had her ainway everybuddy to his love-saking eyes and everybilly lived alove with everybiddy else, and Jarl van Hoother had his burnt head high up in his lamphouse, laying cold hands on himself.
And his two little jiminies, cousins of ourn, Tristopher and Hilary, were kickaheeling their dummy on the oil cloth flure of his homerigh, castle and earthenhouse. And, be dermot, who come to the keep of his inn only the niece-of-his-inlaw, the prankquean. And the prankquean pulled a rosy one and made her wit foreninst the dour. And she lit up and fire-land was ablaze. And spoke she to the dour in her petty perusi — enne: Mark the Wans, why do I am alook alike a poss of porter — pease?
And that was how the skirtmisshes began. But the dour handworded her grace in dootch nossow:
Shut! So her grace o’malice kidsnapped up the jiminy Tristopher and into the shan-dy westerness she rain, rain, rain. And Jarl van Hoother war — lessed after her with soft dovesgall:
Stop deef stop come back to my earin stop.   
But she swaradid to him:  Unlikelihud.

And there was a brannewail that same sabboath night of falling angles somewhere in Erio. And the prankquean went for her forty years’ walk in Tourlemonde and she washed the blessings of the love-spots off the jiminy with soap sulliver suddles and she had her four owlers masters for to tauch him his tickles and she convorted him to the onesure allgood and he became a luderman.
So then she started to rain and to rain and, be redtom, she was back again at Jarl van Hoother’s in a brace of samers and the jiminy with her in her pinafrond, lace at night, at another time. And where did she come but to the bar of his bristolry. And Jarl von Hoother had his baretholobruised heels drowned in his cellarmalt, shaking warm hands with himself and the jimminy Hilary and the dummy in their first infancy were below on the tearsheet, wringing and coughing, like brodar and histher. And the prank-quean nipped a paly one and lit up again and redcocks flew flack — ering from the hillcombs.
And she made her witter before the wicked, saying: Mark the Twy, why do I am alook alike two poss of porterpease?
And: Shut! says the wicked, handwording her madesty. So her madesty ‘a forethought’ set down a jiminy and took up a jiminy and all the lilipath ways to Woeman’s Land she rain, rain, rain.
And Jarl von Hoother bleethered atter her with a loud finegale:
Stop domb stop come back with my earring stop.
But the prankquean swaradid:  Am liking it.
And there was a wild old grannewwail that laurency night of starshootings somewhere in Erio. And the prankquean went for her forty years’ walk in Turnlemeem and she punched the curses of cromcruwell with the nail of a top into the jiminy and she had her four larksical monitrix to touch him his tears and she provorted him to the onecertain allsecure and he became a tristian.
So then she started raining, raining, and in a pair of changers, be dom ter, she was back again at Jarl von Hoother’s and the Larryhill with her under her abromette. And why would she halt at all if not by the ward of his mansionhome of another nice lace for the third charm? And Jarl von Hoother had his hurricane hips up to his pantry-box, ruminating in his holdfour stomachs (Dare! O dare!), ant the jiminy Toughertrees and the dummy were belove on the watercloth, kissing and spitting, and roguing and poghuing, like knavepaltry and naivebride and in their second infancy. And the prankquean picked a blank and lit out and the valleys lay twinkling. And she made her wittest in front of the arkway of trihump, asking:
Mark the Tris, why do I am alook alike three poss of porter pease?
But that was how the skirtmishes endupped. For like the campbells acoming with a fork lance of lightning, Jarl von Hoother Boanerges himself, the old terror of the dames, came hip hop handihap out through the pikeopened arkway of his three shuttoned castles, in his broadginger hat and his civic chollar and his allabuff hemmed and his bullbraggin soxangloves and his ladbroke breeks and his cattegut bandolair and his fur-framed panuncular cumbottes like a rudd yellan gruebleen or-angeman in his violet indigonation, to the whole longth of the strongth of his bowman’s bill.
And he clopped his rude hand to his eacy hitch and he ordurd and his thick spch spck for her to shut up shop, dappy.
And the duppy shot the shutter clup (Per-kodhuskurunbarggruauyagokgorlayorgromgremmitghundhurth — rumathunaradidillifaititillibumullunukkunun!)
And they all drank free.
james

























































































Monday, March 12, 2012









 



































































Sunday, March 11, 2012

Saturday, March 10, 2012

you learn
you are product
a 4 billion solar year
project of seeding
and think only you know
whether no one is here
inside or among
whether love is
the limit of sharing
rather
than a currency
among everything
birdsong flowerpaint
breathe
under your air dome
be love with love
for you may
be it or us
and you
are the deaf mute































Wednesday, March 7, 2012




















is your only tool
fear through use
betrayal&lying
why can't we talk
you just can't taboo
all opposition as terror
and okay only
your violence
as lawful
eric arthur scratched
that long before
might get the poor folks in the back
who cant do more than read
but it wont hold the clerks you need

any absolute
breaks down
of its own N/A
that rare chance
needlessly repeating
there's nothing solid
in our universe

why cant you deal with honesty
what newspapers used to do
maybe we should uncover
evil and secrets
to each other
and  not let you
decide

how are we ever
gonna get something
like legitimate democracy
not a better zookeeper
but even better
some species serving society
or a family
or a better human

seems like a smart leap to get there
if there is anything built in this society
other than shilling deception and disclaimer
it might be honesty
by  us
taking no credit





























Sunday, March 4, 2012


I died and went to the World Above and saw it.
You knew me.  I was a sinner, I was a drunkard.
I have come back cleansed. I am as we were in the beginning. In me is a shining power.
In the beginning, we were full of this shining power, strong because we were pure.
We moved silently through the woods.  With a silent arrow we killed the animals and ate pure meat.   In silence the fish swarm in pure rivers and we caught them in silence and ate them.  In silence our corn and beans and squashes grew from the earth, and those we ate.  We drank only clear water after the milk  of our mother's breast.
I have heard that lost silence.
You have not heard it because you have been dead.  Up under the roof of the sky there is that pure silence.  In the beginning our people broke that beautiful silence only to pray to the  great good spirit or speak wisely in  council or to say  kind  words  to our children and our elders or to give war cry.

follow me through the door that I am opening for you

Our creator put us on this wide, rich land and told us we were free to go where the game was, where the soil was good for planting.
That was our state of true happiness. We did not have to beg for anything.  Our Creator had taught us how to find and make everything we needed, from trees and plants and animals and stone.
We lived in bark, and we wore only the skins of animals.
Our creator  taught us how to use fire in living and in sacred ceremonies.   She taught  us how to  heal with barks and  roots and  how to make sweet foods with berries.
Our creator gave us tobacco and said, send your prayers up to me on its fragrant smoke.  She taught  us how to enjoy loving our mates and gave us laws to live by.  Our creator  sang to us in the wind and the running water, in the bird songs, in  children's laughter and taught us music.

Thus were we created. Thus we lived for a long time, proud and happy.
We had never eaten pig meat, nor tasted the poison called whiskey, nor worn wool from sheep, nor struck fire or dug earth with steel, nor cooked in iron, nor hunted and fought with loud guns, nor ever had diseases which soured our blood or rotted our organs.
We were pure, so we were strong and happy.
But beyond the great sunrise water there lived a people who had iron and thosedirty and  unnatural things, who seethed with diseases.
Who fought to death over the names of  their  gods.
They had so crowded and befouled their own island that they fled from it because excrement and carrion were upon it.  They came to our island.
Our singers had warned us  that a pale people would come across the great water and try to destroy us but we forgot.  We  did not know they were evil so we welcomed them and  fed them.
We taught them much of what our Grandmother had taught us.
They saw how much room we had and they wanted it.
They brought iron and pigs and rum and disease.  They came farther and drove us over the mountains.   Then when they had filled up and dirtied our old lands by  the sea, they looked  over the mountains and saw this Middle Ground and we are old enough to remember when they  started rushing into it.  We remember our villages on fire every year and the crops slashed every fall and the children hungry every winter.

For many years we traded furs to the English or the French, for wool blankets and guns and iron things, for steel awls and needles and axes, for mirrors, for pretty things made of beads and silver.
And for liquor. This was foolish, but we did not know it. We shut our ears to the great good spirit. We did not want to hear that we were being foolish.

But now those things of the white men have corrupted us, and made us weak and needful. Our men forgot how to hunt without noisy guns. Our women don’t want to make fire without steel, or cook without iron, or sew without metal awls and needles, or fish without steel hooks.
Some look in those mirrors all the time, and no longer teach their daughters to make leather or render bear oil.
We learned to need the white men's goods, and so now a People who never had to beg for anything must beg for everything!
Some of our women married white men, and made half-breeds. Many of us now crave liquor.
He whose filthy name I will not speak,
he who was I before,
was one of the worst of those drunkards. There are drunkards in almost every family. You know how bad this is.

And so you see what has happened to us.
We were fools to take all these things that weakened us. We did not need them then, but we believe we need them now. We turned our backs on the old ways.
Instead of thanking the great spirit for all we used to have, we turned to the white men and asked them for more.
So now we depend upon the very people who destroy us! This is our weakness! Our corruption!
Our creator scolded me, 'If you had lived the way I taught you, the white men could never have got you under their foot!'

And that is why our creator purified me and sent me down to you full of the shinning power, to make you what you were before!
No red man must ever drink liquor.
No red man shall take more than one wife in the future.
No red man shall run after women.
If he is single, let him take a wife and lie only with her.
Any red woman who is living with a white man must return to her people, and must leave her children with the husband, so that all nations will be pure in their blood.

Now hear what I was told about dealing with white men.  These things we must do to cleanse ourselves of their corruption!
Some of these steps will be hard.

Do not eat any food that is raised or cooked by a white person.
It is not good for us. Eat not their bread made of wheat for our creator gave us corn for our bread. Eat not the meat of their filthy swine, nor of their chicken fowls nor the beef of their cattle which are tame and thus have no spirit in them.
Their foods will seem to fill your empty belly but this deceives you for food without spirit does not nourish you.

There are two kinds of white men.
There are the americans, and there are the others. You may give your hand in friendship to the french or the spaniards or the british.
But the americans are not like those.
The americans come from the slime of the sea with mud and weeds in their claws and they are a kind of crayfish serpent whose claws grab in our earth and take it from us.

Wear only clothing that you have made from skins and sewn with sinew.
In  our towns there are dogs  of the white  men's kind, those whose ears hang down.  I saw such a dog watching us from a tree with white men's eyes and I knew.  These are bad animals. These are prowling in our towns with the white man's spirit in them.  And there are cats that you got from the white man.
Yes, I told you-some of these steps to purification will be hard.

The fire struck by white man's steel is not sacred fire. You must put out such fire in your lodges and kindle a new fire using the old way and this will be a sacred fire.
You must never let this sacred fire go out for it is your reborn spirit beginning now and if it goes out so will your life go out. When you move from place to place you must bear sacred coals with you as we did in the ancient times and rekindle the fire when you arrive.
The great good spirit wants our men to hunt and kill game as in the ancient days with the silent arrow and the lance and the snare, and no longer with guns.

If we hunt in the old ways, we will not have to depend upon white men for new guns and powder and lead or go to them to have broken guns repaired.
Remember it is the wish of the great good spirit that we have no more commerce with white men.
We may keep our guns, and if we need to defend ourselves against american white men, the guns will kill them because they are a white man's weapon.
But arrows will kill american intruders, too!
You must go to the grandfathers and have them teach you to make good bows and shape arrowheads, and you must recover the old hunting skills.

I will tell the people I see and you will tell those you see.
The great good spirit will appoint a place to be our holy town and at that place I will call all red men to come and share this shining power.
For the People in all tribes are corrupt and miserable!
In that holy town we will pray every morning and every night for the earth to be fruitful and the game and fish to be plentiful again.
We will no longer do the frolic dances that excite lust.
The great good spirit will teach me the old dances we did before the corruption and from these dances we will receive strength and happiness.
I will go  and  be  alone for a while.
Turn your backs on the whiskey sellers and the traders and do not listen to the Jesus missionaries.
How will you know witches?  They will be doing commerce with the americans.
They will start whispering to you that  I am not a true holy man or prophet.
THAT is how you will know witches.

tenskwatawa 1811


Saturday, March 3, 2012

Thursday, March 1, 2012


to have chosen
other than the straight line
to keep the jumpiness
the best doesn't start with reason
which we have enough of
then there's giotto
best beyond word
beyond method
and must be done
to find out
if its big enough
after