davidannwn
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Countess Franziska zu Reventlow,
Queen of Schwabing, with her love-child at the river-island party Miss Mina Lowy, age 18, hears Marya Delvard sing the song of Wedekind’s Ilse at Die Elf Scharfrichter, Munich c.1900
:
another risqué song of the fallen woman fallen that grade black-rimmed eyez Marya Jugend I Anglo-Mongrel li Mina l, ter Mina l, la Mina r, se Mina l cri Mina l, subli Mina l miniver Dusie they call me, these Müncheners Du and Sie Diurnally variegate Husky I listen her after I see she river-sway countess Franny her red-river robe ‘art-muslin’ ‘nymph-heroine’ Lowy, cut the w derive a l L o y risk is life is risk mina’s ear is mari’s backwards to loy loyd to loyalize i marry myself To be everything in woman Everything everyway at once
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Irruptions of subliminal reveries: Madame Hélène Smith, (Muller)
recites a medley of poems in Martian dialect
for CK
March 25, 1892 – Eleven persons around a large and heavy dining table of oak with two leaves
April 1 – Violent movements of the table, due to a spirit who calls himself David
Mlle Smith in her normal state
Phenomena of hypermnesia, true presentiments, visions, superficial
hypersomnambulisms
There are times, when in spite of herself, she feels inclined to speak in distinct rhymes
Hélène told me one Sunday that she had been possessed several times during the day by the
hallucinatory image of a straw hat
After sighs and hiccoughs, she enters into Martian somnambulism: Késin outidjé
February 16, 1896 --The idea of a special handwriting belonging to the planet Mars occurs
for the first time:
cé êvé plêva to di bénèz éssat riz tès midée durée
Arguments. Heated exchange. Gruff expressions. In reaction to Flournoy saying Martian
resembled French too greatly, Hélène writes in Uranian:
lalato lito namito bo té zozoti zolota matito yoto
An American lady, a Mme Smead constructs a Martian novel, then another set on Jupiter,
backed by visions of extra-terrestrial spirits
There is rivalry, an upping of the spiritualist ante
Hélène writes in the language of planet Nazar:
spik antik flok skak mak tabu milahatt
Saussure assures us he isn’t so sure
It is evening: in the drawing room with its subdued light and atmosphere, Hélène Smith, back
from her day’s work as a model employee in a commercial establishment is putting on a seance
for a small circle of the initiated. Today Hélène is speaking Martian, tomorrow she may speak
Sanskrit
It is evening. The table is empty – the oak grain gleams
It is night. Geneva. Hélène Smith is sleeping. Her breath is warm on the cold bolster. In her
dreams, someone is knocking loudly at the door in the street. There has been a discovery!
Awake! Awake! Artificial fruit glitters oddly under its sconce. The impression of a Martian’s
fingertip, every tiny whorl visible, appears in the meniscus in Hélène Smith’s ewer of
trembling water. It starts to shape letters in a unknown language.
Phantasmal, the drapes. Phantasmal, the blinds.
| wakefield accelerator | |
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for K MacC
( an accelerator increases a laser’s speed as it passes through plasma, giving rise to a zone of ripples called a wakefield). nouns and after-effects, well-versed but what in rippling the traffic I combust in convertible valors and let the adjectives object where they will to the fringes of day’s obeisance on what grounds citizens pay heed to decorous logics and HumVee-like roadmasters to turn the corners past green glass men walking into your rights where who knows where or what or when one finds oneself part of staring upwards analysing moods and extraneous folds of oceanic particulars in a sky-bergs burnishings making sure the cuff and uncomfortable label are soft to the neck and the growl of early enquiry somehow grants us a walking, a codifiable routine for stenographers of minute population-changes and the statistical recurrence of certain shadow- formats in devout fringes lingers on well past past, devotion conjured by liquid screens, combust in velours of hydrogen now knowable weapon of sun in a rhetoric not used since the Kyoto impasse and fine I say, settle down now it’s time for the waves to approach us and we not them for the answering rays’ intersections, gem-like, held in facetted confrontation, face- two-faced
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Saint Hieronymous
Saint Nihil
-just wasn’t made for
these times
but you were – you’d
fit right in with your
shiar jihad
Jedermann
the meat of the strawberry
is carnal
slice it, it’s vulvaesque
sweetly
a fair fielde of folke
as beasts --
that hatred of animals
men as animals
verlaat alleen me!
Hieronymus Routemaster
Hieronymous Crane Fruehof
White Swan-Eater Hieronymus
Gazumping estate-agent
’sif quangos a rare springbok-
breed
Hieronymous sedating a white
Rhinoceros
Sin-ominous Bosh
viasmaster
omnivorous
Hiero-phantus rarus
buy your white elephant
raze your plains
mood-swing quick as a
midden-door banging
smouldering straw
burn your roisterers
totally irrelephant
when o when were your
hollow logs-men
green ?
Mojo Jan Mostaert
yr. younger but contempore
Haarlem neighbour
painted a new World -
the Spanish irrupting
on innocent pastoral
no oral of the past
but you o no,
didn’t see the hell
made in the name
of a hell you shunned
in far-flamed AmerIraqa
if thy right eye offend ye…
let not thy right hand know…
Anonymous Hie-rony-ous
Anime Ronny
Ludus, remember: Manga’s
a game but
loathly neckings and sixty-nining
wasp-waisted couples supple as milk
in an hourglass
every fountain of pleasure
its grubbing owl
every cleft fruit-tip a meatus superior
for heroning lapwing
gate of horn, left/right hemis-
sphere triptych
dextra/sinistra, dusky sister
I pap you – shivery waves,
irrepressible revulsion
in each azured gossamer
raspberry’s scorpion-sting
your horroring mare-ride:
strawberry’s skin
blistering and wenning to
gaping sog-pit cavity
but rot is part of process
tell that to the gangrened
fallen at…
delusive fleetest sweetness
o no but Bosch won’t sup Borscht
no please, plea-se, bring me
November strawberries
so we need our Fruehof burning fumes, rubber tyred
our überMarkt
our distribution centred
Bosch washers
Later Breaker Alligator Breaker
Ten-Four
Come Back on KFC CB,
Roger goodHieronomusbuddy
down by the sign
of the Flatulent Bagpipe
