Renewal
After the rain,
there comes a fresh rainbow
to renew our vision
of this post-punk avant-garde
generator of ‘-isms’;
—transcendental irises
splitting the decayed palette.
A Thesaurus of Ululations
A lot of words. – A thesaurus of ululations. –
Signals for resistance. Things don’t usually need
to be round to be perfect. There is no problem
w/ roundness, but things sometimes need
to ooze through the surface.
Ululations can hide in the texture of the underground.
& you need to ululate when you are jubilant.
You need to pierce the radar of conformity
w/ your shrilling ululations.
The thesaurus needs to be bulky.
Bulky in the size of largeness itself.
A jubilant bird suckling freedom on the periphery
of a bough.
Freedom manifests itself not w/ the wings but w/
the shrilling voices of a jubilant bird.
of discomfort & experimentation
at the end discomfort is an experiential
reality
I contemplate the vellum
vertigo comes again
I smash the plate
I wish I could find alternative metaphors
I wish I could find pleasure again
down w/ melancholy
but hurrah to discomfort
— a praxis for re[current] experimentation
I turn & return to my living-room
where my crackling chair is always there
I don’t like to smash it because I can’t think
deeply unless I sit in a broken chair
After the rain,
there comes a fresh rainbow
to renew our vision
of this post-punk avant-garde
generator of ‘-isms’;
—transcendental irises
splitting the decayed palette.
A Thesaurus of Ululations
A lot of words. – A thesaurus of ululations. –
Signals for resistance. Things don’t usually need
to be round to be perfect. There is no problem
w/ roundness, but things sometimes need
to ooze through the surface.
Ululations can hide in the texture of the underground.
& you need to ululate when you are jubilant.
You need to pierce the radar of conformity
w/ your shrilling ululations.
The thesaurus needs to be bulky.
Bulky in the size of largeness itself.
A jubilant bird suckling freedom on the periphery
of a bough.
Freedom manifests itself not w/ the wings but w/
the shrilling voices of a jubilant bird.
of discomfort & experimentation
at the end discomfort is an experiential
reality
I contemplate the vellum
vertigo comes again
I smash the plate
I wish I could find alternative metaphors
I wish I could find pleasure again
down w/ melancholy
but hurrah to discomfort
— a praxis for re[current] experimentation
I turn & return to my living-room
where my crackling chair is always there
I don’t like to smash it because I can’t think
deeply unless I sit in a broken chair
