PIQUES (wet dream radio mouth)
is a film covering every last thing in the big garden, re-programmed and ready to download?
get it.
liberation means one is thrust into a different paradigm, often seemingly contrary to the first...war is a social behaviour modification short-cut (they write about this),
makes us
new neighbors
with a punch to the gut.
apparently
predictive programming
is pretty easy.
oh they another
appear with fear in the drama,
they start winning the wars
playing both sides of course
oh they smother a million on horse & fix lotsa scores
& they own the mainstream noose who
reality made in a nice shade of fake
and fine-and-you?
fine-and-you?
amnesia haze
worked up by words
in terior space
a picture of her flickering:
sonic body babe in the sound aphrodisiac,
Bare feet tickling her organs & skinship
Stuck to blonde roots and dirty living, illusions,
television, tobacco, drug mule muse
running around on those beautiful ankles...
Last Night in Vishnu Lake
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
Lazy Local World Spoken Word Music
In short hip hop electronica,
Free jazz cock rock,
Be-bop blues & doo-wop.
Classical postmodern soft-grunge glam-rock,
Urban country contemporary classics,
Ambient retro prog.
Soft metal easy rock reggae remix,
Tejano soul rap, bluegrass dance pop opera,
Industrial dancehall gospel & the golden blues.
Local world spoken word
Music.
The Shakespeared Brain
Philip Davis pleasures his brain with shifting Shakespearean syntax, measures the results on an electroencephalogram, and finds evidence that powerful writing can literally change the ways in which we think ...
From THE READER magazine
I have always been very interested in how literature affects us. But I don't really like it when people say, "This book changed my life!" Struggling with ourselves and our seemingly inextricable mixture of strengths and weaknesses, surely we know that change is much more difficult and much less instant than that. It does scant justice to the deep nature of a life to suppose that a book can simply "change" it. Literature is not a one-off remedy. And actually it is the reading of books itself, amongst other things, that has helped me appreciate that deep complex nature. Nonetheless, I do remain convinced that life without reading and the personal thinking it provokes would be a greatly diminished thing. So, with these varying considerations, I know I need to think harder about what literature does.
And here's another thing. In the last few years I have become interested not only in the contents of the thoughts I read--their meaning for me, their mental and emotional effect--but also in the very shapes these thoughts take; a shape inseparable, I feel, from that content.
Moreover, I had a specific intuition--about Shakespeare: that the very shapes of Shakespeare's lines and sentences somehow had a dramatic effect at deep levels in my mind. For example, Macbeth at the end of his tether:
And that which should accompany old age,
As honour, love, obedience, troops of friends,
I must not look to have, but in their stead
Curses, not loud but deep, mouth-honour, breath
Which the poor heart would fain deny and dare not.
I'll say no more than this: it simply would not be the same, would it, if Shakespeare had written it out more straightforwardly: I must not look to have the honour, love, obedience, troops of friends which should accompany old age. Nor would it be the same if he had not suddenly coined that disgusted phrase "mouth-honour" (now a cliché as "lip-service").
I took this hypothesis--about grammatical or linear shapes and their mapping onto shapes inside the brain--to a scientist, Professor Neil Roberts who heads MARIARC (the Magnetic Resonance and Image Analysis Research Centre) at the University of Liverpool. In particular I mentioned to him the linguistic phenomenon in Shakespeare which is known as "functional shift" or "word class conversion". It refers to the way that Shakespeare will often use one part of speech--a noun or an adjective, say--to serve as another, often a verb, shifting its grammatical nature with minimal alteration to its shape. Thus in "Lear" for example, Edgar comparing himself to the king: "He childed as I fathered" (nouns shifted to verbs); in "Troilus and Cressida", "Kingdomed Achilles in commotion rages" (noun converted to adjective); "Othello", "To lip a wanton in a secure couch/And to suppose her chaste!"' (noun "lip" to verb; adjective "wanton" to noun).
The effect is often electric I think, like a lightning-flash in the mind: for this is an economically compressed form of speech, as from an age when the language was at its most dynamically fluid and formatively mobile; an age in which a word could move quickly from one sense to another, in keeping with Shakespeare's lightning-fast capacity for forging metaphor. It was a small example of sudden change of shape, of concomitant effect upon the brain. Could we make an experiment out of it?
We decided to try to see what happens inside us when the brain comes upon sentences like "The dancers foot it with grace", or "We waited for disclose of news", or "Strong wines thick my thoughts", or "I could out-tongue your griefs" or "Fall down and knee/The way into his mercy". For research suggests that there is one specific part of the brain that processes nouns and another part that processes verbs: but what happens when for a micro-second there is a serious hesitation between whether, in context, this is noun or verb?
The main cognitive research done so far on the confusion of verbs and nouns has been to do with mistakes made by those who are brain-damaged and thus on the possible neural correlates of grammatical errors and semantic violations. Hardly anybody appears to have investigated the neural processing of a --˜positive error' such as functional shift in normal healthy organisms. This truly would be a small instance of inner drama.
We decided to experiment using three pieces of kit. First, EEG (electroencephalogram) tests, with electrodes placed on different parts of the scalp to measure brain-events taking place in time; then MEG (magnetoencephalograhy), a helmet-like brain-scanner which measures effects in terms of location in the brain as well as their timing; and finally fMRI (Functional Magnetic Resonance Imaging), those tunnel-like brain-scanners which focus even more specifically on brain-activation by location. I knew nothing much of this: I am indebted to Professor Roberts and to Dr Guillaume Thierry of Bangor University who joined us in the enterprise.
With the help of my colleague in English language Victorina Gonzalez-Diaz, as well as the scientists, I designed a set of stimuli--40 examples of Shakespeare's functional shift. At this very early and rather primitive stage, we could not give our student-subjects undiluted lines of Shakespeare because too much in the brain would light up in too many places: that is one of the definitions of what Shakespeare-language does. So, the stimuli we created were simply to do with the noun-to-verb or verb-to-noun shift-words themselves, with more ordinary language around them. It is not Shakespeare taken neat; it is just based on Shakespeare, with water.
But around each of those sentences of functional shift we also provided three counter-examples which were shown on screen to the experiment's subjects in random order: all they had to do was press a button saying whether the sentence roughly made sense or not. Thus, below, A ("accompany") is a sentence which is conventionally grammatical, makes simple sense, and acts as a control; B ("charcoal") is grammatically odd, like a functional shift, but it makes no semantic sense in context; C ("incubate") is grammatically correct but still semantically does not make sense; D ("companion") is a Shakespearian functional shift from noun to verb, and is grammatically odd but does make sense:
A) I was not supposed to go there alone: you said you would accompany me.
B) I was not supposed to go there alone: you said you would charcoal me.
C) I was not supposed to go there alone: you said you would incubate me.
D) I was not supposed to go there alone: you said you would companion me.
What happened to our subjects' brains when they read the critical words on screen in front of them?
So far we have just carried out the EEG stage of experimentation under Dr Thierry at Bangor. EEG works as follows in its graph-like measurements. When the brain senses a semantic violation, it automatically registers what is called an N400 effect, a negative wave modulation 400 milliseconds after the onset of the critical word that disrupts the meaning of a sentence. The N400 amplitude is small when little semantic integration effort is needed (e.g., to integrate the word "eat" in the sentence, "The pizza was too hot to eat"), and large when the critical word is unexpected and therefore difficult to integrate (e.g., "The pizza was too hot to sing").
But when the brain senses a syntactic violation there is a P600 effect, a parietal modulation peaking approximately 600 milliseconds after the onset of the word that upsets syntactic integrity. Thus, when a word violates the grammatical structure of a sentence (e.g., "The pizza was too hot to mouth"), a positive going wave is systematically observed.
Preliminary results suggest this:
(A) With the simple control sentence ("You said you would accompany me"), NO N400 or P600 effect because it is correct both semantically and syntactically.
(B) With "You said you would charcoal me", BOTH N400 and P600 highs, because it violates both grammar and meaning.
(C) With "You said you would incubate me", NO P600 (it makes grammatical sense) but HIGH N400 (it does not make semantic sense).
(D) With the Shakespearian "You said you would companion me", HIGH P600 (because it feels like a grammatical anomaly) but NO N400 (the brain will tolerate it, almost straightaway, as making sense despite the grammatical difficulty). This is in marked contrast with B above.
So what? First, it was as Guillaume Thierry had predicted. It meant that "functional shift" was a robust phenomenon: that is to say, it had a distinct and unique effect on the brain. Instinctively Shakespeare was right to use it as one of his dramatic tools. Second the P600 surge means the brain was thus primed to look out for more difficulty, to work at a higher level, whilst still accepting that fundamental sense was being made.
In other words, while the Shakespearian functional shift was semantically integrated with ease, it triggered a syntactic re-evaluation process likely to raise attention and give more weight to the sentence as a whole. Shakespeare is stretching us; he is opening up the possibility of further peaks, new potential pathways or developments. Our findings show how Shakespeare created dramatic effects by implicitly taking advantage of the relative independence--at the neural level--of semantics and syntax in sentence comprehension. It is as though he is a pianist using one hand to keep the background melody going, whilst simultaneously the other pushes towards ever more complex variations and syncopations.
This is a small beginning. But it has some importance in the development of inter-disciplinary studies--the co-operation of arts and sciences in the study of the mind, the brain, and the neural inner processing of language felt as an experience of excitement, never fully explained or exhausted by subsequent explanation or conceptualization. It is that neural excitement that gets to me: those peaks of sudden pre-conscious understanding coming into consciousness itself; those possibilities of shaking ourselves up at deep, momentary levels of being.
This, then, is a chance to map something of what Shakespeare does to mind at the level of brain, to catch the flash of lightning that makes for thinking. For my guess, more broadly, remains this: that Shakespeare's syntax, its shifts and movements, can lock into the existing pathways of the brain and actually move and change them--away from old and aging mental habits and easy long-established sequences. It could be that Shakespeare's use of language gets so far into our brains that he shifts and new-creates pathways--not unlike the establishment of new biological networks using novel combinations of existing elements (genes/proteins in biology: units of phonology, semantics, syntax , and morphology in language). Then indeed we might be able to see something of the ways literature can cause affect or create change, without resorting to being assertively gushy.
I do not think this is reductive. Cognitive science is often to do with the discovery of the precise localization of functions. But suppose that instead we can show the following by neuro-imaging: that for all the localization of noun-processing in one place and the localization of verb-processing in another, when the brain is asked to work at more complex meanings, the localization gives way to the movement between the two static locations.
Then the brain is working at a higher level of evolution, at an emergent consciousness paradoxically undetermined by the structures it still works from. And then we might be re-discovering at a demonstrable neural level the experience not merely of specialist "art" but of thinking itself going on not in static terms but in dynamic ones. At present there is of course no brain imaging system that allows the study of continuous thought. But the hope is that, within experimental limitations, we might be able to gain a glimpse within ourselves of a changing neurological configuration of the brain, like the shape of the syntax just ahead of the realization of the semantics.
In that case Shakespeare's art would be no more and no less than the supreme example of a mobile, creative and adaptive human capacity, in deep relation between brain and language. It makes new combinations, creates new networks, with changed circuitry and added levels, layers and overlaps. And all the time it works like the cry of "action" on a film-set, by sudden peaks of activity and excitement dramatically breaking through into consciousness. It makes for what William James said of mind in his "Principles of Psychology", "a theatre of simultaneous possibilities". This could be a new beginning to thinking about reading and mental changes.
(Philip Davis is editor of The Reader magazine, and teaches in the School of English at the University of Liverpool. This article first appeared in The Reader, Number 23, pp. 39-43, and was prepared in collaboration with Neil Roberts, Victorina Gonzalez-Diaz, and Guillaume Thierry.)
Patti Smith's Fantastic Advice for Young Artists
Letters to a Young Poet
Satan, Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas
By Angela Genusa
Satan, Oscillate My Metallic Sonatas! (after Paul Hoover's The Windows (A War in Tawara))
Amore, Roma, Air an aria: As I Pee, Sir, I See Pisa!
Bar an arab, Bombard a drab mob. Bosnia, pain, sob.
Camus sees sumac; Cain, a maniac.
Did I cite operas are poetic? I did.
Enola Devil lived alone; Eno misses ordered roses, Simone. E. Borgnine drags Dad's gardening robe.
Flo, gin is a sin. I golf. Food, a lass, salad -- oof! Flesh! I saw Mimi wash self.
Gift fig: Gigawatt Ottawa gig.
Help, Max, Enid, in example "H."
I, lad Dali; I'm, alas, a salami. Is it I? It is I! I did not revert on Didi.
Kodak ad, OK: Kay, a red nude, peeped under a yak.
Lonely Tylenol, Lisa Bonet ate no basil. Lived on decaf, faced no devil.
Mail Liam Maps, DNA, and spam. Meet animals; laminate 'em.
Nail a tired rotini in it, order Italian!
Oh, no, Don Ho: Oy, oy, a tonsil is not a yo-yo! O.E.D. or rodeo?
"Peanuts' Legs" is Gels' Tuna EP; Plan no damn Madonna LP.
Reno loner, Roti de pup editor. Red rum, sir, is murder. “Rum… rum…” I murmur.
Snug all L.A. guns, Sup not on pus, Strap on no parts, Step on no pets, Stab nail at ill Italian bats.
Tarzan raised Desi Arnaz' rat: Tulsa night life... filth, gin, a slut.
U tu? Viva le te de Tel Aviv.
We name opera, rare poem, anew: X.
Yo! Basil is a boy! Yawn! Madonna Fan? No damn way! Zzzzz, Hannah, Zzzzz.
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.
How the book should be
Via Twitter
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.”