we and you and on am i
blooming it
my is let-so when me last night looked like vishnu
so gazelle sing too
i'm fingers, fast sunglasses
i look like this door in your dream drawer
enter it pervade space time
like we was the blooming blooming mind
materialized on whims and beliefs
god
your body won't stop glowing when we meet
i am forever touching you completely
when inside anywhere these arms do reach.
...
Inspired by Renee Zepeda's Light Pink Book / Toasted Body
Angels of Saint Aught
Angels of Saint Aught who taut Los Angeles
City of tits and gods with the already rich kids
Starring in reruns snorting the
Organized shit.
Always happening, Man
Who taught Los Angeles how to rock,
Who fakes street art,
Who protest picnics
And discards De Troit?
Fuck it they're into this
Slavery ring and can sing like the Dickens
And dance, some of them
Wearing many hats,
Or on occasion dresses or britches ,
Or nude when learning how to swim.
The whole worlds a stage friends
Just ask the twins.
Hugs & Kisses,
Foxy Mulder
CEO, Exes & Oz
Super Busy Bodies
we score information art
we like music flowing
margot kidder was lois
in the movies
missteri hatcher on tv
alongside dean something or other
and christopher george reeves
C/W
Breton Remixed (moon ran door 1984)
<<
The bread and wine in the evening
the adventure of space out or in
below above the loud poetry stations,
poetry Phillipine the flesh,
the poetry Sunday shouted
the Sunday tail snake
and dew in the papers in the desk
a candy sponge the thread of things
pools of memory with curls and crevices, sea shapes and sunbeam riverbanks
the open the in
times
<<
cheekbone birdbaths on the checkerboard knees
bugle ear with the volcanic blood sparkling
<<
pillows pretty eyebrows
go now through the midnight windows
float with the pretty bushes
woodwork through the silences
one message performs the star theater
young windows with sleep lean in
where water gets the stone
In a Single Picture a Strategy and Result
Kinetic the interface nerve spreads restless kinetic words
re-discovered in the anguish of the anatomical skinny
How grotesque these modern months
how dreamily diabolical the monstrous methods and intimate stunts
When might everyday life be pieces of poetry, World Words?
When might it not?
Visual music wants to change the warsong framework of time
With re-pulsing literature flashing superbeams through pre-recorded walls
Hot honeyed in the installation room,Viewer:
you water songs looking at the many people mazed
In the glittering gutter slurping at the waterbank chain
humping at(o)ms trying to find a pulse
In the rape and pill age
rebuilding after hurricane
after hurricane
after hurricane.
Intuitive evidence mounts and what's in a name or breed of plant?
What's in the seemingly familiar mundane lurking about?
Long that hard chorus sneaks and stalks outside my windows hardly worried
about eternity earth or the rough lense of time
Mothering me it knows better from giving and oral story morals
Still, determined stones are living
Tho some know not why
the ground becomes sad music
Sadly dimming
when the air says rise wishes rise.
Chris Weige
From The Pulchritudinous Review
Ed: Renee Zepeda
Inkling and the Bloody Horse
Creation got me hooked on human evolution
and hordes of exhausted, shore-bound creatures
who look even more legendary in color
humdingers and man recognizes it becoming reality by now
installing airbags for just about every shelf,
frozen then and in a building bombed erica's triumph over theworld.com
glyph gnash alienari - we're all so sorry
people got killed in head-to-head debates in the nation we were
in the way we brought the plot home having fought previously
over a world repeating in the same way from the beginning
out mount rose the kinds of things necessary to make a point or roman road
or construct a superpower colossal along the curve in the ess
where ditch speaks tongue to reed.
Soulful Maze, Photocopy the Everything Range
Sensuous photogenic you,
am many roads in a minute are
riveting candelabras who hourglasses dared
to go electric
They cut iF with a million dollar knife but the uncomfortable cake left the showroom and exclusive shore-line retreats
half empty.
Yet in each margin horizon more
in so many clouds good rain or even re-runs.
Louder, chemicals see-sawed and status
decided the poor benefit lines (but words change).
To you with poetry re-paint the shh theater, take a big ol' breath in (real deep)
while a country-world detours but for one loud train full of
louder laughs and thicker voices (probably sunshine)...
Do doorways conceive you?
Do you like them (_open or_closed)
who go to you its movie:
Louder, train. I swear.
Chris Weige | Reckon | Austin, TX.
Please Come Supernaturally Loud
He Had Sweat and Bedpost Spasm
Cut-Up / Remix
inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby
he had she
he had sweat and bedpost spasm
he had nostrils where they count most
she'd had he before she'd gone
entering the long orgasm
with a ripple of sensational ghosts
he moaned, then
his eyes crisscrossed
and his curls toed
she'd had him and he'd swung open
supernaturally,
unexpectantly peering at the nothing weeds
and the nothing stars
into the dark warm mirrorheart
he paused to palm her burnished bronze
it was soft
~.~
Please Come Supernaturally Loud
Cut-Up / Remix
inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby + AR baum-bastic mix by Matthew Lowe
please come supernaturally loud
please the animal be
put a finger on the skin
warm and sticky
then without a word
whirr and spark
oh god
oh god!
~.~
Superhuman Tongues with No Sense of Shame
Cut-Up / Remix
inspired by Alchymical Romance by Lee Battersby + AR Gender Exchange Remix by Sarah Xu
superhuman tongues with no sense of shame
decide to follow the headlights forever
they lick the slick oncoming lanes,
assorted bottles, rainbow dirt, cappuccino sugar cane
you've changed, one says to another
you don't any longer feel a thing
i'm sorry
drugs, clocks, blades or fluids caused it
or the empty nothing deadening everything it touched
today, however, the driveway doorway porch
has upon it a cardboard box which contains a lamp
or surely something better than money by much
a suntanned lamp held together with honey
a new wave hard-won torch or tether
an angel-winged tramp.
~.~
Reckon Remixes Licensed under Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-Share alike 3.0
Download the electronic version of Through the Clock’s Workings and start remixing. The entire anthology can be remixed - the original stories, the remixes, and even the fonts.
Remix My Lit is a Brisbane based, international remixable literature project. The project aims to apply the lessons learned from music and film remixing to literature. It is designed to explore where remix fits into literature. It will provide a space within the discipline to encourage and foster a community and culture of remix.
Her the Maze Wants Body
They say the Devil’s getting married in Cincinnati, Ohio.
We say, “The sun is shining and it’s raining at the same time!?”
An inspired calligrapher can create pages of buzz-saw, pick axe, marigold
or even strawberry jam using stick ink, quill, brush, oleander, mist, amaryllis,
hot spell blue norther - a big storm according to James Joyce (between you and me and the fence-post):
Onomatopoeias.
“So I will get to work & I will finish you off, question mark;
shaketh a shackle shaketh a spear, type talks and make characters,
exclamation marks to set you off; I will catch on latch onto the key boards,
hit my marks. Interrobang and shall not depart. I like this hullabaloo, brouhaha, hubbub. I like this outlandish Dino Martin Stego-TheSaurus so flush and popular. I recognize my body…desperately my breasts, my face my breasts all my smells my dirty depths…Hear my rain of orgasms, Addict; I am all you have left.”
Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit
Thread Through the Enormous Re-Imagining
Love the Weak Too
We are all ever so
in becoming ourselves,
visibly haunted and like the future
sometimes blurry;
Yet we have everything
and have grown together,
discovered treasures and gentle transformations,
become happy ever-so-often,
and as people begin to arrive
a few think it is a vision;
They are confidently assured in their awareness
but deep down love a good surprise
knowing every day the future forwardly shapes the past.
Yet no one monster minds, no one panics or protest-picnics.
People begin to arrive…
What Fate Sway ( Lake Epps )
The recorded future story made some wonder, opening up like that;
Constant rock and only a handful were doing it. I was looking for a really hard edge, but the good news is I don’t know anything and found something better anyway.
Completely different: something that’s not been done. It took sticks and stones to roll and musicians like wild scientists sweating smoke. It’s not hip-hop; it’s not skate-what. It’s not another job or record con-tract.
All of a sudden, all of a sudden being born trying to overstand infinity.
And stood and sauntered across to record the atmosphere really. I was getting out there, Sway, in Africa; but I’m glad this whole incident is like a soap opera with dirty sex and dark, low points
…there were some doozies there between the cracks.
Come on, spill a drink on those two-hundred dollar jeans.
Everybody jones
&
She moans
the new multi-faceted telepathy.
But you go on; stay that way...
The Flat of My Tongue Will Discover a Mirror We Decide to Taste
Like backward english, nude under your lips.
A sure tongue begins to squirm, shy about wishes.
Warm cocoon explosions
Kiss this rolling slow soft ignition,
These complimentary tastes and exemplary ear-splitting affairs,
Flavored thoughts and lights, a number of licks.
We are now another southern delicacy.
Chris Weige | Austin, TX. | Share a key intuit
Horse's Heart Full of Dramadharma
Soon, typewriter, me grow larger so either ecstasy will do, as well as the elusive and often neglected Door Number 3: a purple-shaded orgasm, the bright light of which fell upon The Mouth. We were all in the poem, it appears, and also some kind of horseshoe.
What were you going to tell me?
What was I going to say?
Oh, yes, the hand-painted sign at Rome Laundry:
“Ladies, leave your clothes here
and spend the afternoon having a good time.”
And, like I was saying, we must preserve our natural racehorses. Envisage palimpsest and nothing less. Be a stuttering melody gesticulating. Let’s wash off our masks and demonstrate our cheekbones, tally tree rings in California, TX. Ring-tree sing-sing analog – bark and coat: Firewall and lemon; peppermint stick and laser guided heat-seeking missile; the voyage of the Sagittal & Lambdoid Junction, antipode Aboriginal.
“Triangle noises are miracles,” the Intercom Girl muttered. “I mean…they’re selling fake fun, ya know.”
The headlines were “Tiger Mauls Roy at Mirage: Show Closed Indefinitely” or “Tiger Attacks Illusionist.”
Chemical Habits of a Timeless Century
Staggered, the bruised trumpet spit but did not rot.
The infant bees put their happy muscles to sleep
In the illusion of a breakneck pulse;
The ecstasy overcame the marrow,
the joints were oiled and the pesky bedsore splints scattered
with mad, mad thoughts of heathers and stephens in the improvisational flesh;
Found all-a-them in the details of clowns, in classic drawn-out remarks, payoffs for history on the face of earth told by musky musky mimes on colorful May days.
What a crazed sleep you were in when you balanced all those books on your head, and how ’bout those smoky snowflakes melting in slow motion?
The pills, the medication cures
the loser phantasm mastered.
Breathe in gulp the deepest random decades, City,
Go meet the Town where the seeds are aplenty.
Forego the answers in the trickery and drive.
Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit
Staggered, the bruised trumpet spit but did not rot. The infant bees put their happy muscles to sleep In the illusion of a breakneck pulse; The ecstasy overcame the marrow, the joints were oiled and the pesky bedsore splints scattered with mad, mad thoughts of heathers and stephens in the improvisational flesh; Found all-a-them in the details of clowns, in classic drawn-out remarks, payoffs for history on the face of earth told by musky musky mimes on colorful May days. What a crazed sleep you were in when you balanced all those books on your head, and how 'bout those smoky snowflakes melting in slow motion? The pills, the medication cures the loser phantasm mastered. Breathe in gulp the deepest random decades, City, Go meet the Town where the seeds are aplenty. Forego the answers in the trickery and drive. Chris Weige | California, TX. | Share a key intuit
In the curly corners stumbling
The angry margin must escape from illusion.
To escape from illusion illuminate;
Solve the problem.
Take it out of the city to a country tree;
apricot, peach, anything you see or make a new fruit.
Ripe ones, ripe ones here by the highway booth;
Cobra sly-eye,
Antiseptic bee cave stew;
Cowboy’s just tongue and rock star’s roadkill avatar;
Smoke words begin to tease passersby in speeding cars
Sprawling chainlink in whitewashed tires, homemade icing, cream, antifreeze;
In the curly corners stumbling I buzz about salt
and grass three shades of ivy,
hunter-weed to the edge of umber,
these acres with their silvery ice-water wells & wooden ladders
climbing up billowy sky which is why I bother see
which is why I salivate which is why I…
Mira
All-Star Glass
It Will Float Just Deep Enough
+ To displace a pound of water look closely over the ocean floor today. Moreover, remove that old cork or block of wood. At this elevation you will not be swept up by water.
+ In the same way, do your origin or the origin of a close friend, neighbor, or lover.
+ There are two ways of investigating enormous masses of granite. (This is similar to the principle that enables us to answer why a cork floats.)
+ In the case of the continents it is the vague outlines of the structure of the Colossal Corks. (Granite is about gravity measurements – certain amounts of granite and idols lie.)
+ A block of wood, being heavier than a cork, reaches deep down to support the three subterranean levels untouched by laws above the ocean floor.
+ - The bodies are buoyant in the crust. It is possible to perceive material in which they are immersed. Sensitive instruments will detect the basement layer – also, their true make-up. (Both approaches will work.)
+ Indeed they have massive roots.
Chris Weige | from The Richmond Review '02 | Share a key intuit
Twelve Silhouettes Waiting in Space
Street mattresses follow pedestrians
on the far side of the lime green trees
The film dreams magic nurses
outfitted blue wading in the rainwater
Such humane desires
(the animal felt forbidden)
In the windows in the moonlit
obsessive horse
Sex bodies saved themselves for the happiest hands,
metaphors moved vehicles through towns in the middle of forests rigorously recorded,
Hypnotic swells of the Pacific becoming (that animal)
Call it Love, call it a plethora in the dark, distant alit mountain…
Chris Weige '07 From The Pulchritudinous Review No.1 Ed: Renee Zepeda
Sweet Dairy Whey (be a pussycat be uh-huh brave)
Big Bhanji Bhang or Silo Sinsemilla;
Where did ‘Is’ begin?
The totality of the universe in its
Fundamental existence?
Likewise cell, likewise galaxy, the dimensional
Intersections of reality -
Vortex on vortex on vortex on end,
Internal coherence. Diatonic scales,
Cooking with gas on the orbit on the beam,
Seeds placing bets in stalls,
Climactic walks evoking tenderness in
Improvisational songs,
Like when you talk…
The ball, the bundle,
On the nose on the button on the bridge:
Phenomenal Hot Shot.
It’s a deal, me too, sure thing; I’ll drink to that,
I hear ya…
Like you say, “Groovy all the way gravy.”