Bleached Black Balloon

 

October, 18 … switches are red … witches are green

when lear went lear came
as software ear for june switch game
no owl, no cat, no piglet’s soft nep,
just a trap
when noose came as news went on the 18 th
two scanners wrestled for the seam breeches
toppling throbbing machine, coach on-line scheme
of the
lonely man walking the vampire lane
swallowing the long shadow of sun rails
hitting on turntables,
screaming
mina harker’s processin’
of the incursion, then,
on
October the 18 th

shadows of discourse
this uneasy position,
this de’fem´iliarizing of the screen
to stay recognizable as historical scene
dead & monstrous, ideology so green
&
so Co … crooning

Van der Velden says:
“They are trying to create doubt,
trying to intervene in cognitive space
where we don’t have the facts ”
instead we can create fabulous bats
retrofitting the past …
no type of outside at last
just rag pickers’ lust for lace lacing
lacing metaphysics
but what would be the smell
of such a wretched truth …
of
“arch puppeteers ”
galangal yellow?

would this share the beyond
or
would it cross over to the other side
where soft hairs are circling
the black hole,
snout,
bringing back memory to all yellow death riders?
anosmia versus butyl mercaptan
stinky smell of skunks
as well as all the punks of metaphysics?

does the first question have a whiff of smell
beyond ambrosia
or that of the goddess in a shell
rather than of all non testable propositions …
unknown snout?

hull, knep => nep, knop => nop, lop, nap, or knask eller knep
métèque;
forget
metaphysics of the unknown snout
hull,
sink philía into the title of meta sophos
macho gooding of the scull, skull swain:
do we want arch puppeteers
of meta politics
or not,
chimes in Van der Velden
we can create stories of thiefdom, steal them!

if there ever was a whisperer of the crystal screen
he must have gone from the veer to storeys of the feedback machine
no stories…

 

 

 

“and in Macedonia, they went to Veles, a town that became known”
singing the inter actionism of hoax aflame

i miss kittler as much as i will always miss U,
heart region,
arid
landshut …
psychosomatic metaphysics,
meta haven of the unknowable line
vampire biology

black balloon circumventing obstacles in the street
as humans
do
riding
planes
until they hit the puddle

black balloon sidestepping obstacles
surfing down the street
as youth do
taking swells
before meeting the puddle
lash – splash
splash

 

—Martina Gertrude Siebert

 

 

 

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