Thursday, October 08, 2020

ON FLIES

Robert Herrick came to me in a dreame last night and wanted me to get this out to you all. TC


FLies (we knowe) love decomposing Flesshe

and also Poope, when they can get it fresshe.



Tuesday, October 06, 2020

ON DRUGS

(written years ago, this has perhaps now found its moment)



It is easy to be fearless


if you're on drugs


if you have an endless supply


you should definitely take drugs









Monday, September 21, 2020

Invocation to DIONYSIACA

 

from the Greek of Nonnus

 

Sing goddess the bright burning mess-

enger of the CRONIDAI

the breathless labour brought on by thunder

the massive electrical storm in Semele’s bridal bed

—report on the birth

of twice-born BACCHUS whom Zeus his father plucked

half-formed from the fire

—goo-covered baby—

SANS DOULA

how painfully he cut a cavity in his thigh

and carried him there, father and noble mother both

not unmindful of a previous pregnancy

when his head gave birth

having an unbearable, unbegotten lump

enlarging his cranium

until it burst

and shot forth burning in her armor

 bright


ATHENA







Monday, August 10, 2020

FRAGMENTUM ARBOREUM


I never knew 


what horrors that tree


was hiding from view







Wednesday, July 29, 2020

THE GIBBERING HEAD


This bovine-hominid freak
got up in order to shamble about,
which needn’t be more than a picture
of shambling about
for only ten or so tormented fragments 
at a go, quick bursts, momentarily mental
but finally impedimental,
but with constant working of jaw
(as if on cud, or backed-up vomit-paste)
is geared for quick results—tangible results
and that means end-results—
according to a secret timeline.

For pronunciation problems, please refer
to my ass.

This turd-master, this magician,
this pampered minotaur,
of stumbling verbal boustrophedon,
perpetual author of saltlick-licking
and backwards-ass superbia

Question: What is major malfunction
Lingering effects of cocaine?
Perhaps. For such amounts
as must have been
diminishmental for a brain—
or something--
have mined that cerebellum handsomely,
and rendered ripe for caving in
the mysterious rooms within.

That, I guess, or his having been to a college
so lacking in merit, and so devoid of conscience,
as to have baccalaureated such a head 
was somehow instrumental,
I can’t but think,
in bringing about the great explosion of blood.

But then there must have been loads of cocaine
and psychological abuse
and uncomplaining victims
where he was.






Saturday, July 18, 2020

ALEXANDRINES FOR JULY 2020



The tortured chimp retrieves a razor from the trash--

He grins, and on his right and left begins to slash.














Friday, July 10, 2020

MY MONSTER MOVIE


Toxic orange slug
giant-size threat to planet
townsfolk shout  ‘you suck’

The general frowns
he’s got nothing, he’s useless
His tactics are lame

Malignant kaiju
oozing up from toxic depths
Godzilla hates you

Unfortunately
Godzilla is sleeping now
Man, wake his ass up!

But you will be shocked
When Godzilla is recharged:
You will bite on death

Friday, July 03, 2020

Poem LXII: For the President: my notes on Heinrich Blücher's Heraclitus lecture



"Today I wish to speak of Heraclitus of Ephesus and I am trembling."
 Heinrich Blücher

His fellow Greeks, his fellow citizens of Ephesus
did not merely put him to death--
they killed him thus:
drove him into the temple of Diana.
    No one could murder him in that district
    but neither could anyone bring him food
so he starved
in the perfect knowledge
that Homer was wrong about everything.

 MYTHOS    > LOGOS



a cold-blooded logos 
 ironclad law of necessity--the philosopher
must regard the world without belief
That is, let fire persuade you
or not,
 it will burn you
and everything is made of fire.
One can't pray to this logos: that would be nonsense
one can only follow it
 straight
to the temple
 of Diana



"He created, like the philosophers that preceded him, a view of the cosmos as a well ordered universe, but in such a way that there was not a bit of consistency in it,
and his fellow Greeks just hated that view."



What then?


Logic makes only sense; logic has no meaning.



Therefore we must play.






taken at the lecture
Heraclitus and the Metaphysical Tradition
delivered May 10, 1967
Bard College





Saturday, June 06, 2020

SERMO RUINOSA ('Until it is finished')



Be a vacator of forms

be a great 

           vacator of forms!

then be an evacuator of particulars

an emptier of cities



donec consummatum est








Wednesday, May 20, 2020

THE PROBLEM WITH YOUR GRAPH

He has the privilege of clapping her hair 


My porous braine is the problem 
Isn't it; why JC is lame 
Why TN is lame 
Why everything I touch is lame!
Why I hate myself 

Palinode: sing back 
sing back your song
call back your stupid message
Recantation 

hey Thomas
Your graph has an embolism 

thanks! but actually

it is having an embolism









Wednesday, May 13, 2020

DRACULA FLOWER


There must have been
a method in among his madness
for observe
the dracula flower
blooming out of my side.

Within these emergency margins
please teach me
and my dog
how to live
in this meaty place,

and deal with all this desire
for blood
and all these contrivances
for preserving it
and these ill-fitting clothes.

Though I must remain excluded
from my dog’s flawless sleep…
still
let me have a little hope!








Tuesday, May 05, 2020

CAUCASUS


the god said: draw me a map
to the remotest confines
of the earth

where no foot hath trod
nor any living thing 
disturbed the dust

direct me through the bowels of                   an element
where nothing ever gets out or in

draw me a map to that infinitesimal              point



…thus was the torture of Prometheus
and his torturing place
        kept secret, and hidden
         from the minds of men







Monday, May 04, 2020

NOTA BENE

Note: if you will kill yourself
you won’t get to choose the musical selections
for your funeral. Any such instruction
left behind by y.s.a.
will be ignored by everybody.

Now think
with thoughts taut and tight
whether
your fucking ghost
can handle
              that.





Friday, May 01, 2020

THE MANAGER SASSY

Sassy out of nowhere
vacates her torpor
to correct me
issuing commands with claw and tooth
and low malevolent noises
folding back her ears to say:

'Thomas.

You're a valuable member of our team
but if you walk out that door
before doing what is necessary
don't bother coming back.
And even if you do do 
what is necessary
I will maim and eventually
eat you.'









Saturday, April 25, 2020

POEM FOR EARTH DAY


THE lion will eat you:
but not until you get to hell
















whatever type of hell,
it doesn’t matter which
since all of them drain
at last into the selfsame ditch
and anyway each
will have been renamed.

Do you smell the rain on this stern warm wind?
It is a message. Let no one ignore it.
Leaves, even new ones, fly sideways before it.

Get your shit together!

That wind is merely the borders
of an interpenetrating planet
that now arrives.
Classes are cancelled
church is cancelled
all contracts are void

The Assyrian lion whose teeth
are points in this contracting constellation
will be eating you, and you will know
neither unending sorrow nor eternal bliss
as you wind throughout its starry guts

I will see you again
when we are gathered to a point in the end
by which I mean never, old friend.
Old friend,
you will have lost your contacts
instantly, all in exchange for your
instantaneous kinship with the dead

go ahead and barf

To remember me recall my mangled ungrammatical poem
recall it to yourself as one who briefly understood
the language of various beasts
of ferrets, mongeese, old demented cats
and magical magical dogs
and the fucking-songs of fertile parakeets.


4/22/14 thc

Tuesday, April 07, 2020

BUTTER KRUST CONFESSIO AND UNCTION



Gorgeousness has always been my curse
and my addiction:
roaring products spring
directly into my hands
like a punch in the face
or the head

But listen, carnal: when I lie dying I know that I will smell
Butter Krust Bread
San Antonio, Texas,
such perfection having always been
my downfall and my curse.

Hear me, chachi: don’t try to recycle it:
chuck it in the garbage
where old patterns may at last
reveal themselves…
look into it who will…

but I shall have entered Butter Krust Country
por última vez.