A kind of nominative horror is what I take away from this, Lawrence. A naming of.
A story I don’t quite follow hidden therein…, each part of which holds my attention.
Doug
On Oct 8, 2014, at 4:09 AM, Lawrence Upton <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Flesh cut back to bricks, numbers predominate. Lettering persists but
> conveys no nouns or verbs
>
> a few almost exclamations, no more.
>
> The integers endure, all lacking objects, hanging adjectival by suggestion.
>
> In due time, they pupate into substantives. One four seven nought nine.
>
> Arteries throb. Desires scream. Nineteen twenty-seven forty-five. He must
> die.
>
> An exploratory tool digs into the salt-laden mortar.
>
> He cannot bear it. He has died; an ejaculation of agony, and all the
> apparatus dry so that pain rebounds. Each bearing scatters at high
> velocity; and the pain returns, its echo and memory rolling round in blood
> jamming.
>
> More than agony explores and remakes itself automatically, something
> useless spun on a wheel under someone else's fingers being made useful from
> their point of view, a thing made other than it is by force.
>
> A branch stripped of its leaves.
>
Douglas Barbour
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Recent publications: (With Sheila E Murphy) Continuations & Continuation 2 (UofAPress).
Recording Dates (Rubicon Press).
that we are only
as we find out we are
Charles Olson
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