Put the mark on the page and spread it out
Sacred (sacred) defiled by a smirk and happy
Ah yes, our cultural theory a story is in
Ev in in ev in ev inev it table explains
The sun shine and the shoe shine the rain falls,
And the fastball. Don’t laugh I make my devotions
Dogma forms dogma forms. The Authorities employed a
gang of cutthroats
Who took to cutting throats priests. Hey! I’m not talking
the usual deal —
We do the explainin you do the workin
Leave the special theories to us. Send the tribute of slaves to take sacrificial
offerings into Tenochtitlan—
We will sequence creation.
The movement of heavenly bodies.
The Procession of one day into the next —
Handle monthly fertility make monthly payments
A group of the most renowned artist courtiers enters
some young some old
Wearing denims or Italian suits many in sunglasses with
petulant but unthreatening
Demeanor. Motorcycle boots and handmade slippers.
The chief oligarch summons them
From their studios within the city walls. He curtly states,
“You are the chosen and you
Serve your masters well but now you’ll be gelded.”
(some older artists shuffled uneasily while several young artists applauded)
But most were plainly confused.
“I’m all for being paid in gold!” cried one.
“Does this mean they want us in some sort of Guild?” cried another.
The chief oligarch was irritated by their stupidity. “No, it
means you are to be castrated
– Your balls are to be cut off. Do this and you’ll retain
the favor of your masters.”
They looked at one another to see what the other
might do but not one dissented, all
Nodded in agreement. It was the right thing to do.
Whatever it takes yeah man who needs ‘em. There are only winners and losers.
Whatever it takes I never used em anyway.
We’re working for the cause. The Lord Chamberlain
moves across the stage. I knew
I could count on you to do what’s right for us all...
I’m talking about the whole thing man; and I’m feeling
good about it
Whole scale WHOLE SALE SALE of the whole total: The aroma
of ripened honey Floats on the breeze and Through the blossoms on
locust tree leaves. Sudden
Vivid memories, of experiences I never had of
The shrew, and the bat, the horse, my boney and meaty
Arise from the original stew.
Lightning fired the flying bat and us up
And myself gloat in common ancestry. I’m
Dancing with the honey, horned and goat-drunk,
Osmosis. The effortless joy of sensory experience shakes
Loose, and we dance together spinning faster and faster
until we drop
Euphoric entwined in the twitching movements of the
animal body drenched
By fire and the honey flow of insects and the warm fluids
Look there! The Neanderthal’s doin’
The juicer dance!
The protozoa had no mouth so
The honey flow is the memory flow.
I reached to turn the outside in, in-
Hale and exhale and keep some for later.
The originating force. Bee wings evaporate
Moisture to ripen the honey twenty thousand
Wings beat the harmonious drum. Genetic
Based aesthetic experience stretches back passed the
To the shrew. They’re all still here... still present and
-times you can feel them. Once it starts the beat
Has us dancing again. I’m so happy I’m
Seeing life vivid, full and open ripened memories
Undifferentiated with me the goat, chicken, and bees...
Course men and women pass through each
Other and input from sensory systems integrate
With memory and body systems construct self and
Present. Three drives constitute the present: food,
Sex, and eating rocks.
In America, the mark still runs;
paint is still wet; instinct marks the
tree; the landscape gives no settlement of thought. Our
good intentions get all fucked up in our tortured cultural
meaning. We came for belief, ideals, and to make a buck.
An unintentional sideways glance catches the truth,
glimpsed peripherally to our culture’s glare. You’ll get to
it as easily outside as inside. We’re creating and feeding
on it. I’m back in the garden repairing Eden, making the
marks of the Waxman
I’m looking to find the central
Model of consciousness. It shows
You who I am and what I have made
And how I made it. Meaningful and meaningless.
This is the first absorption of my presence and it
Forms within your eye. Everything absorbs by osmosis
Changes and returns. Flamingo and dove both love birds
About the house. Art making begins close to home.
Fancy footwork comes later, after the music starts.
In the garden Adam and Eve made a honey and wax
Figure, sculpture, then ate it and were expelled.
Scale is irrelevant to creation. Eden
Is two inches round and round and upside down.
It’s been a long stare: forty thousand years at the mirror.
Reflections of love; hate what have you; the usual
And they’re still tossing the beautiful girls
Into the Chinote so god can git the perty
Gals. The bee told me not to worry: assign
Likely meanings and intentions and leave it at that.
Don’t concern yourselves with details and become
In our concentrated form. Cracked spines and
Crushed bones first mark and scream
But what’s the beginning point? The basic elements?
Tolstoy was a great bee man. He knew the workings of
He recognized the French occupation of Moscow as a
Hive. Finished. Doomed. This lady owl is created
Stroking, making accumulations (of feathers shaped in
But who are we? Breathing or dead in the method of our
Is the answer. The cave breathes in dead summer mist
The dead to deep earth and exhales bright air of autumn
The bumpy cave wall reopens the world it contains:
And lions, horse, owls. His smudged hand mark is all he
And that’s about all there is. It dwindles. Flickers and
And re-gives all there is. Meanings are assigned and
Adhere after a change of posture on the seat; and the echo
“Look that child is crying — his screams fade down the
Bronchial paths. The sliding of the past into present into
Gives the mark its form —
How does he look? How does he look like when you
See him? Well, how does the body feel like when you
can’t touch it?
The imagined body never touched it? To be honest, it’s
Always been a blood-soaked tale: Hundred Years War
Hitler, slaughters. For absolution reveal yourself to
From Waxman into a new cognitive aesthetic model.
Ho... Hey... Instinct repressing medication. Love...
And art. Central model of consciousness.
Maybe now is the time to start again. We’ll
Leave the doctor’s office, unseen, and walk toward the arid
Buddy bad boy whitey’s buck naked in the woods,
Dancing and screaming about nature in chaps and western
Cortes landed on the Yucatan and went wild. Bernal Díaz
takes up the story:
“There were idols of Sodom in their sanctuaries so we
tore the wings off insects
And chopped down the trees. We knew about the sword
and the cross and left
A piece of driftwood with axe marks on the shore. Let’s find it! Let’s
find the Word, the mark, the incendiary, the spark-word, the verb of
conquest and Submission. A word was the bomb we call the Daisy
Cutter we slipped it into Monte’s brain [and the depth charge flipped
him out]. Beards also played some Part as I guess they could grow
them. And the word? I can’t tell you but give
You the name of two who know Señor de Royo and San
borne Jumbo. They
Are the word whose meaning cannot be worded. It’s what
happens next but never
Happens what we never get to: the sequential mark the
next mark in the sequence of the pattern on a cave wall