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Hard Times Killing Floor Blues.

"9/29/68
for Leroi Jones

Late at night I went walking through your difficult wood,
half-sleepy, half-alert in that thicket of bitter roots.

Who doesn't speak to me, who speaks to me more and more,
but from a face turned off, turned away, a light shut out.

Most of the old lecturers are inaudible or dead.
Prince of the night there are explosions in the hall.

The blackboard scribbled over with dead languages
is falling and killing our children.

Terribly far way I saw your mouth in the wild light:
it seemed to me you were shouting instructions to us all."

--Adrienne Rich

" 'Who doesn’t prefer art that at least overtly imitates something other than its own processes?' wonders the text about its own process.."

"DELIRIUM

Sleep drawn in,
I (no tale) met a torso gelid,
off, a dot,
a burst egg,
nitid emu

I riled sleep/REM lab.
Metastases process, amnesia,
mock coma is en masse!

Corpse sat, sat…
Embalmer peels.

Delirium editing gets rubato.
Daffodil egos rotate
melatonin inward"

--@Spoonerrhythms

"On the other side of the looking glass, it’s not that words have no meaning: rather, they mean much more than we had imagined."