Writing
Swivillization
and its bearings grinding—listen.
Cylindrical vertical
shaft to a flat disk —expansive—beveled, bolt-mounted
clarity of surface,
distortion, dramatic layout, world.
Rotating Superfly
Periodista writes that
bearings are born in bearing-maker’s alley.
Rotating Superfly
Periodista is correct.
Swivillization and its
bearings grinding—sounding out.
Politically Correct has
always been fair play—all around, in that it means to ramp-up a
preceding narrative—so
that it might proceed to a counter-dominant current—that if honed,
correct, or not, as the
narrative’s intent to transform is—we’ve duly noted, and have
responded —is on its way.
Pissing in the toilet
instead of on it—is correct.
Determined to flush out
the empirical side of it, pier 49, Guangdong, 12 hour shifts the walk-
off’s daily the
roundups
hourly the pulse of fear second by second related word by word as
expressed by 99 cent
mops in Brooklyn that last a week.
That much he knows and
that his life has dribbled out its last soixante-huite hurrah.
That much its
accumulated effective swerve toward the point of
Predilection.
Below the shaft is a
double-notched mounted triangular tangle of angular solid iron—turbine.
The social function of
the Turbine is determined by the power motor, the power motor by
the fuel hose, the
support hose’s fine mesh is achieved by infusing small amounts of liquid
rayon the droplets
sticking to their forearms, 200 of them streaming out of hangar 48,
Tegucigalpa.
Causal Description
gives
the worker-reader a much needed workout and that he or she resists
it is because of the
ease of swivillization and its disconnects—on the sphere, flat,
rotating,
distracted, nervous,
fickle, but true.
True, Superfly
Periodista could be tracking it in sections, flying fractions of world,
2,000
shots per second, yet,
Superfly has to make a calculation as to its
General Motion.
Corollary being that
consciousness does not depend on either self-embroglio’d poetic or
academically-encased
temporalities.
And thus, in
agèd
accents, a stranger in the audience asks:
“of us, present here,
which of us stands imputed so?
are we
as to
be
that
which is
to lash out at all? or
forestall?
to a love of all? or
forestall?”
And Superfly, in
slightly less agèd accents, responds:
“in this my
neighborhood, in this my city, my country, on this my daedalian
disk—flat—beveled,
bolt-mounted clarity of surface, distortion, dramatic layout,
world”— “neither.”
Another stranger pipes
up:
“Neruda might say the
bearing makers are his Madres de Grafito y Hierro Palpitantes—by the
millions, that they
cradle him, that through the svelte-leopard night—rocks it, humanity.”
And a third stranger:
“to slinky-dink at
all—enthrall?
of a slicky-slack of
all—enthrall?”
But the empirical
evidence gathered without correct Dialection of the Social is like a mop
without a handle, hard
on the knees.
Conversely, correct
Dialection without empirical evidence is like a mop without a sponge,
hard on the aesthetics
of acetate flooring.
The narrative so far
diagrammatically alludes to the earth as a flat disk mechanically
rotated
instead of a lush
sphere
afloat in space elliptically around the sun.
Of so many substances
Future Poetry’s
composites
combining.
Of so many instances
ball-bearing rollers’
futures
remain
gelatinous.
And that we are like
bearings, support-swivellings, grinding on, our tropes.
And that we rotate—like
a CPU fan, clamped on and cooling.
And that we swivel—like
a utility desk chair, poly-angular, free but for the screen.
Slogan:
“Build Nature!”
Slogan:
“Nurture Building!”
As photons from the
spastic sun pelt the saame hemisphere, comrades report
from Caracas:
Las Comités
Montañeras—on fire!
Of so many
assemblies—confederative, careen towards Dual Government.
Collective work tied to
collective product’s circulationÉscrap wood to the central pile,
some
to the flame...tawny
smoke over the city hills.
systolic necessity,
diastolic
determinate
fortune. ...
To have heart
in the face of confusion.
Grit
unto the matter present.
Walls
around Carthage.
A cheap pair of support
pantyhose.
A transnational relay.
A democratic assembly.
Blip
unto the Blap Blap.
Blap
unto the Blip Blip.
The Need-Gene
The need-gene is minimally mover
volatile animus heinous and hoary sub- national navigational instrument
the need-gene is non-biologic organismo chingón strong sinewy
fragile unto it all’s animate the back-up generator lamp shining on it
the ac ventilation crazily unaware of itself the advent of society for
you is this corpus constructs a laughing expanse where one stick figure
erect in a hasty clip along 14th street non-diffuse the outline
frighteningly clear-cut add that gentle buffetings of western air on
said corpus pierce to the pituitary of our c-mos battery analogy keeps
the system in sync hormonally the humors tell of it captured by it the
charm is of it captured by it super-fluidity comes of it cupidity of
ferocious in the chest just felt we had to shake down all the absurd
bodiless pomp again governed at the very edge of the world this spot
often an eager companion grammatically hot-wires for you wanting to
want
the writer’s life is not exclusively solitary nor exclusively dizzily
social but a lot of concentration’s required must be embraced in the
end
defeated partly by the wounds of socially indolent over-determined
structured traps that leaning over cupping the warm sand just then
watching the grains slowly funnel down the palm many of the grains
flying off and settling variously the seashore re-soaks them firm again
the resolve to bodies known and bodies unknown to propagate not of the
birthing cycle per say but something else in that the need-gene the
launch-point moment-one in motion already born into it the flow of it
you are and you thought this guy was all about labor slugging but
consider for a flash my fellow atomist material spunker the insomnia of
exchange-values walking cacophonous world its images disease pain loss
and barbarous war without let up a how to the bullocks of it can you a
how to the buttocks of it will you and that it’s not about whitman or neruda nor even ginsberg
this galloping coast-to-coast line we admire porn folks just the same
non-corporate linguini-like oily twistings glowing ruddy-green skinned
sizzling belles and bozos check it you have to ask but answer too if
this text is a way of settling-in for the way things are or if it’s
edging somehow elsewhere the answer might implicitly be several
national
power-blocs speaking through various filters but almost certainly a
trade-pact supported inlay and it looks indeed like I forgot to
properly develop that need-gene thing and if that’s poetry with it’s
under-developed ripe-rotten truths then.
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RODRIGO
TOSCANO is the author of To Leveling Swerve (Krupskaya
Books,
2004), Platform (Atelos,
2003), The Disparities (Green
Integer,
2002) and Partisans (O Books,
1999). His work has recently appeared in Best American Poetry, 2004
(Scribner's) and War and Peace
(O Books, 2004) and In the
criminal's
cabinet: An anthology of
poetry
and fiction. His poetry has been translated into French,
German,
Spanish, Portuguese, and Italian. He was poetry co-coordinator for “The
Social Mark”
symposium in Philadelphia (2003). Toscano is originally from San Diego,
California. He now lives in Brooklyn, NY.
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