Something Wet And Flowing

Sometimes the highway is a vernacular of color you don’t often find in the politics of the soul. But the gas stations are alright. You can usually find a little soap left & something interesting to read in the mirror. It’s amazing what transformations take place, what apocalypses occur when enough is not enough & variables curtsy to surveys sponsored by billionaires. It’s why I do this. It’s why I do anything. I do it for what Artaud said about art: “No one has ever written, painted, sculpted, modeled, built, or invented except literally to get out of hell.”

Being is ineffable. Incalculable & incomprehensible. Sometimes I will feel the explosion of something huge in my being. I don’t know what it is. I like to use the word ineffable. This would be a good occasion in which to use the word ineffable. But I won’t say ineffable. One must be careful in giving names to things, especially feelings. Naming is a form of conjuration. It is how Prospero conjured storms. Imagine that: standing on the balcony, a big stick raised defiantly, exploding the matrix to smithereens. The artist is not an army but has the strength of an army. It’s because he has the secret of death in his arsenal.

I used to have ambitions. Now I just shake, rattle, & roll. The universe happens everywhere, even in a John Ashbery poem. I like extreme, indeterminate values, but I don’t like dribbling, & I don’t like war. Daytime is not a brain. Do we really know what we want? I do. I want a nice easy death that doesn’t cost anyone too much money & a few comfortable years before it happens. Also, hot dogs & marijuana. The mind spins its webs & settles in the imagination as postulates of something wet & flowing. Something like a river. Like silence. Like sunset on the Ganges.

I know I’m wordy, but I seethe with self-importance. May I be forgiven if I duplicate a vacuum cleaner with an actual vacuum? The immemorial heartthrob of a business portfolio leaps into consciousness like a life-style & commits temperature, a big one, like a rogue mammary gland, or Wisconsin. Wisconsin is also quite beautiful, but let’s face it, the perspectives are underexposed & maraschino. It’s better to be a lisp than a triumvirate. There’s enough ointment left in this sentence to garden a pyramid with a waddle. I say let there be mastication if the sauerkraut is getting old. Bombast is but the braille of a limitless warble, & so fungal it’s funny.

This is precisely why mushrooms belong on pizza. It’s our local anesthesia, our slice of Polynesia. Big cities make life unnatural. But it’s not all bad. There are gypsies in Barcelona, philosophers in Paris. Psychonauts at the library. Multicolored lights on Mulberry. We’re all required to play a part. Duplicity is profitable. Honesty is subversive. Just look inside the bar, the conversations shimmering & blistering. Reality is perched on a bottle of nitroglycerin. Have you ever stood in a room feeling disheveled & listless & pervaded by truth? The insolence of the guitar comes naturally. Insinuation is the metal that makes pain mechanical & hot. Purpose has a nuclear core dwelling at the heart of fate. But the breath of heaven is soft as thought.