Thursday, September 26, 2013

hinge de l’être

autour du cadavre th
oughtblade story é
gorgé dans les latrines
organizing states de sang
et d’excréments heavy
wounds kicking in doors
produced une intense circ
ulation de sperme s
tarting skull or la source
féminine de ce fleuve
pathpower’s governttbtbment
de stupres et d’infamies
manual section un culte
automatic infrastructure
rites imbéciles et déchargés
the thting succe heavy le
parricide compares its goat-fish
trumpet monster éjacule the
double story complaints
smoulder dans un état de
ébullition bath mat injecté
de matière livide or story
as thing wordless field et
les pierres que vivent mind-fish
punk tuna face metaphor
comme les bubons effervescentes
d’une peste on the
rooftops the end home une
boule parfaitment sphérique
our frozen sensory peas un
oracle hydromantique st
ripped of sound the tuning
wrong the knobs steaming
l’homme passe una grosse
chaîne autor du phallus
documentary account of th
oughts la punition at
tachée à son sommeil
opposite state’s howl who
plants these cartes d’ast
ronomie a power disbea
ce fleuve intelligent w
ater cosmetic écume
les odeurs affreuses b
oiling at the intestile
neth ,sous terre

From Jim Leftwich,
Six Months Aint No Sentence,
Book 53, 2013
Antonin Artaud, Héliogabale,
ou l’anarchiste couronné, 1934

Monday, September 23, 2013

filthy chowder

meat and sand the
wall’s lap protectant’s
dribbling in the falling hole
yr regurgitant chewed
,what stuns its  ik  ik  ik
the desert ,with rain ,fills
,choppy grey lake ˄˄˄˄˄˄˄
rabb its twitching on the
shores sodden books
tongues for markers and
,like syrup ,I sank into
my pants  ink  ink  ink
where yr facial claw
retracts the udder
clown inhales~.~~..~.~...~~.~
~.~..~.~...~silted air~..~.~...~~..~.~~..~

La circulation souterraine que alimentait
nuit et jour...
- Antonin Artaud


tu cancro beso tu fu
marola insensible un pl
ato es un reloj indemne
como mi pierna izquierda
,mierda ’muj, ’ me‘j, ‘ m’aj ‘  
m’or‘tal la bhoca finis
tierrah que de hablar no
se deja en nada tengo las
cosas ,el bubo invol
cánico que mis labios ,rein
vertidos ,repartidos ,se acer
can lad rantes con su pus
legible y su nunca audible por
la jeta abstracta ,con trozos
de inf ante

...atle ipan ninentlamati...
- Anónimo; recogido por Ruiz de Alarcón



sieze heel ,arm the
name crowd log ,obvi
metrics and the spiral
wind ,across the laun
dried lake the leaf
tunnel ,clattering with
stones ,where a sod
den book repaged the
tale ,barking down the
stairs ,to the sloshing
basement ,where the
index swirls the in
sects drown ,and
lift your shoe

...gakk, sppit, chhoke...
- Nick L. Nips


fucking loot
ahn bomb

door an shale



Saturday, September 21, 2013

LA CHAIR DU CENOTE, read by the author:

The wonderfully produced book is available here:

aquí y ahora

sure the shoe was sm
oky sure the culo cule
brabra seguro que sí  .si
n point er ni ,s in
shadow in the bookcase
was yr wornout finger
sure it ,masticado
,was ,a ,luminaria
drowning in your rain
.sure the sore was
sore the swim was
sweat ed en el
,rincón de las hor
migas que ríen  .wh
ere los calcetines ,en
sus nudos ,duermen

El espacio existe...
- Ulises Carrión



,look ,shut ,doggy ,melt
,blam be ,hind ,lifter
fog a ,puma ,sorted ,b
rag and ,climber ,it ,chy
saddle wha ,t necked ,
,en ,tr ,antsed ,boy
o fill ,et a ,fryer sp
litting on the rocks o
start o bore o mean ah
mesmer ,whiling through
the gland afternoon ,no...yet...


loma puerca ,merca s
endas clisés ,porquerías
y la plancha de mi
texto chamuscado ,m
esa de ccomiddass cco
ttiddianass y tu gritosorbo
.sword said sweating
mud and arch support
)wander up the squealing
slope a ,thunk twister
ump pmu mp mp nor(
plenty colindero con el
fin siestino

...sin ningín sustantivo
- Rafael Lamata Cotanda



te tocaba ,l’ombre que
tu devins ,Mallarmé ,tr
ueno lo que dijo a
sombrar las charcas
“divinas y” )fier si
lence(  y mis peldaños
au fond d’eau don
de me bajaba al
subir ,tu ,des integr
ante con tus alas
de libro abierto
...mi cosita ,despierta
,con tu ojo empapado

...tristes vapeurs.
- Stéphane Mallarmé

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

lunch wheel

your wheeling lunch your
jostling shirt your ouch
hameter unfolding in yr
pocket ── chaise of
carne asada an da a
ir escu pitazo mas
carte el tenedor  .)your
squealing your tossing your
door recording  ...(  what
‘s crawling off your p
late what’s left ,b
reathing in yr lap

the boiler the loot the
slice of pepper jack

escrito con pluma

es peranza es camado es
pumoso ,del coche rut i
lante ,si ruta me queda
p’alante ,temor ,culeado
,fornido de rayos apagados
,es ,carretera en llamas ,lo
ladrante ,lo perro que se
fué de la puerta la pu
erta vacía                     me
va la encía me
va el pie me va el t
rueno de mi cabellera sin
grava sin colillas sin las
basuritas brillantes del
sol antañero ,serpiente
que se come las plumas

so so so

So I spun the sod den
corn nap the car stea
ming like a bush your
back seat stuffed with
pillows and a shovel on
the stove a pot of ears
boils ants clouds sw
eating on the ceiling wh
ere I hung my itching
shoe ;;; sung the clotted
morn my charred hat
seems ,your crushed f
eet your bills and trouble
;;;  yr fears knotted in
yr pants just drop yr
jaw let the gnats c
rowd in ****************

...feu de l’air...
- Comte N. U. d’Âge


blind tlaloc

On the sweltering floor  yr
face loot squalls a tower
giggling in its tturdy opa
lesence oh ffoggy comb an
lintel where yr eyes are
carved ! ;;;;; saw the
ants glyph scrawl a way ;;
;;; the Ttree center full
of stOones the corn showers
]ssomethhing mmeltinng under the
bed[   )my shoes speaking in
the headache ...the clloud
brreathes the lleg the yyolk the
lleg ...o

- C. Haac

Monday, September 16, 2013

the ‘maters

orange ,under the drooping
,leaves ,dirtsprung hands
,or gold ,spheres ,es
caped my eyes ,to
fall in mud ,or the
cornea’s cloudy ,leaves
me standing ,and in my
churning sleep
an icy shoe returns

    ’       ‘  ‘      
where the compost’s
crowned with flies
.my uttered wallet’s
nest my sandy keys
my knife crusted
with sticky see
ds  .))under the water’s
mile ,I slept

...las semillas que subían...
- Carlos Pellicer


b oil nos tril ,g ,nat
es dri ppy ,off the
f loor ,s hoe f ills ,a
m ask o f og the
han ky rai sed ,a f
lag un foiled ,to
ward the st reaming
c aves ,of rain the
mater ,so’s yr fin
g ered sn akes yr g
rippless toes and linty
shirt ,damp ,ered
while the exhalation’s
in ,bur bling at the mou
th ,rem akes the soaking
air ,or light

Toda la mierda literaria ha
ido quedando atrás.
- Roberto Bolaño


río por fin

the shirt a wave ,my tumb
ling  .the corn disappears
so my eye “returns” .the
rubble the sandwich the
drizzle ,forgot ,“remembered”
the silt-white water  .river
,stumbling ,through my bou
ldered pants my leg my
le g ,ate and squealing
in the flood’s meatless
sleeves tunnels rushing
toward’s mouth ,at
last ,coughing

Entre estos árboles que he inventado
y que no son árboles
estoy yo.
- Roberto Bolaño


spackled and cloudy

bright shoe time
the gelid wing
gore ,flowering
dry books

lesioned hills

Blinked in Ivan Argüelles’
“is ,was”

Wednesday, September 11, 2013


towels and corn ,my
eachless leg your rug
,if sticky ,contains a
,hosed not flagged ,wh
at scribbles in ,flu
shed and swirled ,the
b owl’s beak of war ,all
pointed toward yr
,but swallowed ,boiling
neck  .‘s creamed down
stream ,was ash ,a
tongue the current ,r
anting ,lapped ,that s
lick white shore
.the kernels ,in 
sweaty fabric w
rapped ,hold the
liq ,if changing quid
,tale   ‘   ‘  ’     ‘    ’    ‘   

...glimmered on green waters...
 H. P. Lovecraft



shoe ,the fraught dog’s
shit’s sweetened sole ,a
crap comp action toward
,if dreamed ,the fragrant
lunch ,a bowl of pho
,nemes c lanked ac ross
the cuad erno ,donde
mi lencgua cahminaba
con un pie descalzo  .f
rénétique ,plusieurs voix
‘,vol des dents ,me bar
king are ,where I
sat down ,the double
s ticks ,my m out h f
raming ,were roads \?
,ending in my sweaty
fist  :and wheezed be
hind the lungless door

...el pecho pasaba de silbo
a soterrado retumbo...
- José Lezama Lima

ig nition

en gina y ,motor ,de
hesperar el fhin ...tu
lhumen ,g ears an eyes
,the teet h ang in’s
bucket’s escupitazos y
vendajes you went des c
ried ,the key ,b ent ,om
ological m ask ,star
ter screeching y noh
se mueve nhada ,ges
ticulaciones del escen
ario a la puerta ,incom
prensibles ,humo ,gnats
,que sube por un harbol
,el pain de mi pecho
uhna ahspirina es
,soaked in gasoline

...the moony zhoomer glimmers...
- James Whitcomb Riley