JUXTA/ELECTRONIC 16 (part1)

JUXTA/ELECTRONIC 16(part 1) Editors: Ken Harris, Jim Leftwich Contributors: Jake Berry, Jeffrey Little, Chris Daniels, Karoline Wileczek, Alan Smith, Steve Carll, George Albon, John M. Bennett, Sheila E. Murphy, Eel Leonard, John Noto, Jim Leftwich, J. S. Murnet, Richard Kostelanetz, Stacey Sollfrey, C. Mehrl Bennett ************************* JAKE BERRY / JEFFREY LITTLE *************** hierokinetic pod hatch somnolent cancers burn orpheus from the ring, she is passive before the tribunal's meat talc in the frozen visions, of a plastic horn, risen, helixed like ribbons of stout plucked from a sky firm in the joy of her equation proffered the glands a jealous serum trucked in with the merchant malaise asphalt is a sleeping monocle, the steppes in a stiffened housecoat elemental as green lights under ice closer to the plough's whisper an invertebrae veil of flame drinks mirror to crowd her horse's ribs forgotten bones on the horizon crown nothing but tack & trial predicate of movement beyond the two while she is blood to oracle boiled torn from Valhalla shouting ticker tape doom, the frayed beautiful edges no other but the other all together alone, lost sienna in absentia w/out shout chorus valence or snow wise to the make, done to the nines, arrows wound in her tresses knee deep in white adder syrup of the grassed hands, graven, the eschatology of tilling, cirrus twine beneath the currents of hail poured hairy wine through bone fethered age, twisted across the tracks and lame a calligraphy of walking sound into sun, of a domed footfall crossing the climate sewn inside the spinnings grafted in visceral pockets, sputtering mole eyes fester with secret, severe knowledge the colorless winds injected into her ancestry are denied the moist turbulence that rolls beneath the air I gather days twisting through feathers bled by the owls that mother the vines that suckle fetus-dawn gangsters in a morning of clip-on bow ties & blatant fez worship the masonic complexity of the dew is understood washer women struggle with dawn their guts aching from the whiskey their fertile toes I crave to nibble each morning is a chauffeured aggregate a labored concoction of pace swelling into a blossom of sound fragrant breasts of the gondolier's daughter swing over my lips like moons drunk with pure land void and delirious ruin crinkle cut fries in the lunar substrate, they remind us, washed up on the beaches, across the cosmos, of a thinning second-hand sun ********************************************** J. S. MURNET CORK OFF Cork off dancing chins lacquer (labial nicks porcelain gainsharing ritual neglect, the ossified ostentation ("flail) hangers crumpled pants' cheat windows scrawled with plaintext (we are worthy we, waffled with the break thought (stand too near the leafy vestibule near coats uncombed with moths (mouths), reach the sill or ("sail") twill cinders evanescent yessings (all aboard ("lecture") sent the twins flat guess to prom roads verklemmt with robin shards all purple cans a fly and feta dreaming in the bowls of furnishings we dandle like soft-headed forbears groaning in the loam lacks teething, bins, fortunata stems with puffed rice in them unreachable as universidade no completo, napping, float above the chair with lamps considered part of Chillicothe where swiss chard and tufts that rollick in the silver night your gleaming sandwich on the porch railing we admired like portraits of the family snared by walls of bad ideas ("hats") fluish in the fluorescent door with spats for hinges and selective service drawstrings: nostrum, flats, burning peonies, the clues to how we semble our Antigones or news, slain floats for classicists to ponder yonder in a stone's throw piece of flatter, sizzled hair condones the touching- lease aflay as hard marks quite unusually rolfing ("rust") stand samples egg contrition through the suit with three unpainted forests pasted on in low ear sending, sort of through, hazy thrunks with great removal from the leaves and pegs and, compacted (froth) sale of sky seized mouth by intuitole a fragrance kind of guessed or even magnified. ******************** CHRIS DANIELS / JAKE BERRY ***** [...] Downstream in speechless Rivers [...] In the End, Our Lord Spoke to us. "Love Has No Body." My Sister and I must Go now, Down and Down must Go, and we will feast on The Meat Of Seraphim in Doppelganger Tula, in Doppelganger Uruk will Dare the Elemental Whores Male, Female, Both, Neither, Pariahs all, their cotton candy Dresses, Tunics to flower in furious Orange Claw Hammering Down. [...]da[... ...]EENRIV[... ...]O-RI[... ...]UME[...] We laughed at Our Dear God's Words, looking Down at our Fruiting Bodies with Almond Eyes, at our gray-traced Arms their Delta-maps etched on our Flesh, coolie Bodies hard with Resin, mine and my Darling Margarita's, Coeval Pariah, Mycelial Pearl, indistinguishable but for Love's Apparata. "You need a Fly's Eye to see It," said Our Love. Our Love, Gentle Mineral Metamere, looked upon us kindly, It's Frenetic Brazen Limbs clanking, Impaler chittering, in It's Lust. He smiled through Her Thousand Platinum Incisors and Spoke again. (O Wrenching Metallic Voice Of Love!) "Bloodvoid-Swimmers, now you must Go. Do you Fall?" Vague Phosphorescent Sex glistening with Mucous and Semen. Impaler's Divine Frenzy. "Lord, we Dive." It Embraced us with It's Thousand Bronze Limbs, and Spoke. "Then Shine, Twins, in My Mind." Whipping Impaler Whirred between us. In Tophet they bathe between the Rain spayed among sedentary Stone where Adamantine Dolphins gather to play and fuck; on the third bank of Diyala they disembowel a Living Goat, divine the Time to drive the Tribes through Mud in Babylon. And Who stands flickering out? Nor You nor I, Dear Sister. The Lord's Mind Hardened in my Bowels. Rude Impaler emerged Shreiking from my Rictus to find the Mouth of my Sister above me, She, The Arching One, Mewling in the Air. Impaler's Pulse, Herald Of Inward Liquefaction. My Dear, My Sister, Writhed, I Writhed, we Withered, Stiffened Withershins. Mephitic Quicksilver, Cenotaph- and Sable-Black, Profligate Mercury, Black as a Vugh, as Vacuum, spewed from her Anus. Steaming. His Million Eyes are The Black-Jewels-Of-Ruin- Corrupting-Into-Dawn, Her Every Limb hinges Dusk- Trapped-In-Two-Bellied-Sheol: Eschatological Savannah Of Carnivorous Were-Oxen, Predatory Were-Gazelle feeding on Mantichore Brains; Conical Place Of Land's End, Sky's, Love's; End Of Thought, Sleep; End Of Our Becoming Our Becoming; Land Of Our Becoming; and End Of Our Becoming. Then jutting beyond my Sister, the Impaler Guided my Sex and joined me in the Sex of my Sister. Aching Trinity, We-Hung-In-The-Air, Colliquaceous, Interpermeate. Our Love swallowed a Gobbet and Spoke. "Will you miss anything, O My Beautiful Animals?" But Our Love had Eaten our Jaws and we were mute. Before our Eyes Dissolved in Tears we watched the Lotus Hooks approach each other's Nost[rils... ...s]kewerd by Conch Autochthorn ...]ENTIN[...] PHLEGETHO[N...] Bastard Progeny Of Immanence And Decay [...] LETHE [...] PANPOTAMOS PY[...] Swim, Dancing in Doppelganger Salamanca to Castanets & He-Who-Bellowing-Holds- The-Blue-Guitar-And-Anchors-In-The-Mind-Positive-Viands-Of-Heraclitus, Black Pearls Shuffling On Linen, Black Fire On White Fire Squirming, Curtain Of Vellum Before The Abyss, Parchment Trapdoor Opening Over Abaddon, Portico Dividing Into The Miraculous, Parchment Lanterns Kindled In The Courtyard, Sitting Or Standing About, Building A New Organ Of Perception, Turbans And Sidelocks In Melodious Discourse, Plaster And Fountains. [...]WSTR[...] [...]TRW COMPLEX BUTTRESSED BY THE TOWERS OF PANDEMONIUM THEIR AWFUL DECLENSION kheperi kheper kheper-u kheper-kuy m kheperu n Khepri kheper m sep tepy [...]VISTUL[A...] KHAZ[...]EIN [...Dop]pelganger, Cutting-From-The-Sacred-Bough, NEMIPULLULANS HUMBER, The Golden Scion kept by mercenary Keltoi: Woad-stained, Molar-spangled, bearing immane Slughorn Venomsabers from their Spike-Log- Fortress- On-The-River in Hordes to flense Roman Loins, those Drummed-To-Naked-Oblivion Suckers of Enormous PsychotropicToads. [...]THNPHAGX[...] PRTNGFN[...] Apophis Metamere's Castings gathered by hispid Mi-Go on the nameless banks of the labyrinthine River on Hidden Leng furnished her Scales with Diadems that are Streetlights in Babylon's Puckered Brow. Down to Neter she goes trailing her children with her a frail sheet of nebulae in her wake - the vulva of Anode Neter gone Neter gone asleep & purchasing cells for steel-eyed mares Gone to Neter-Where-Are-Temples, gone Under to marry her Fiery mate. His Veins are full of Magma, his Anger Furnaces of Salvation gone to Earth to take her Rest and Dance among Anemone and Shark, Seraphim Meat in Mephisto's Teeth gone Down until Circuits complete Circuits in Cathode Diorite when occur The Blunt-Eared-Typhon-On-The-Prow-Of-The-Barque-Swallows- The-Setting-Sun and The Foxers-Drive-The-Sharpeared-Animal-Down, Down Will Down And Be Down And Down, when occurs The Hounds-Of-Tindalos-Copulate-In-Sundering-Rage- Throughout-The-Corners-And-Disembodied-Hooves-Cleave-The-Edges she will be Down among Cast-Iron Shadufim pistonning parched Earth, among Symnetrical Tygers buzzing in the Dust, my Torn Sister gone Down to the rock of Kemi --- St. Anthony-Alone-With-His-Bread, Rapt-In-Starved-Aphrodite --- Sophia-Hermaphrodita-At-The-Grove-of-Nemi --- her Fountain there, her shining Grave in the Air, UXM THUPTIN FLETHRU (OGNI PENSIERO VO[...] Down To Goshen Better Than Starving In Bomarzo Last Fair Deal Gone Down In Zion Margarita Gone Down My Almond Pearl Gone Down With Shulamith Black-Pearl-Ashes In Air All Gone Down Where The Dust Blows Forward And The Dust Blows Back Bomarzo's Doppelganger-Maw Where Forceps Grope Down To That Cave To Be Born. ******************** Steve Carll / George Albon MATCH Taking the grandmother out of the frame is to count the people in line in front of you, one, two.. a mutual loop of misprision may one day replace debate. The words burnt out, rhythm lines the air; someone's sun hangs there, a stutter of sky. Their needs were personal, posted on sliced colored sheets--there was the "during" of their study, one's scrutinizing another's plea. Thus the library goes across. The voice which seemed once to speak out the text rolled open, reaching the tangentials and vanishing, unplaced. Reaching for it was act and belief, a special nail with a cork in it. From this we made a floating framework and stretched out, away, on a dark water. Stars were visible, looking like stars, and made blue night black from the intent of the looking-- once, though, you thought "cup", and changed it. These insistent requests for illumination, when it was after all that the occluded contents. Like the questioner making to leave but concerned not to tip it over. Up top, the open sea closes over the structure. Beneath, the grip of fists close on a line of power. ************************************** John M. Bennett / C. Mehrl Bennett MEETING THE BALL Meeting the ball some way tangled on the jagged edge of window and torn through the shirt-socket, like a pall of thinking Gathering sticks from the cold hard ground, er, drips splattered in the fold of round flesh, Oh in a card I lay, fooled into a manner, like folded hands on breast. (Oh in the yard I strayed, pooled in my sagging face) Licks and secrets fueled the fire, heating the iron that day rolling from the silver-source, when in the wind, wires controlled the arms and legs of all, our speech, like our finger-hair, splayed down a beach ********************************************** JEFFREY LITTLE / KAROLINE WILECZEK mollusked window socks eat the germ smock for sale at the noodle ranch near two buck two commie, yer shit tain't fer peach, i've been brushing long strands of mulch that's a biscuit moor a fern fermenting the still still it waits, shudder, chowder chum twill the gherkin contain-her in a swift putty of pouch rot ralph, the turnips are leaking forestry shimmers where she spreads her wet hot wettie across a socket of souse spooned high in his mouth mining tacklebox & 7 tailors to slum sleeping of course & right fitting between their thumb. *************************************************** JOHN M. BENNETT / RICHARD KOSTELANETZ MINIMAL AUDIO PLAYS: REINTEGRATED HE: What is your name; I'd like to see you again. SHE: Is this a bank vault, or your religious shrine? *** What is the occasion for your sudden interest in Tibetan scholarship? Now that I'm blindfolded I cannot see if they'll be keeping their threat to execute me. *** What life-advantages do you gain from talking to animals? But why are you wearing your mother's dress? *** What time is it? Time only exists in your dreams, Dad. *** Haven't you seen my face on television? Why do you want to poison me? *** Where did you get that hideous scar? Trying, unsuccessfully, to make sure my death would be noticed in the morning paper. *** What did the elephant ask the naked man? You wouldn't have undressed otherwise. *** All those stretch marks around your butt remind me of the typography of Switzerland. Follow me and you can enter the cocktail party on all fours. *** I'm on a diet once again. Does that account for why you brought your toothbrush? *** Every night I have vivid dreams of someone resembling you. That counts as money around here. *** First you must kiss my feet. Because they are so short. *** When's dinner, what's to eat? Didn't I hear a voice emerge from Dad's coffin? *** I know who my father is. But do you know who your real mother is? *** Do I bore you? Please don't turn on the ceiling light. *** I know at least three gray-bearded men who might be my father. Did all of them sleep in your mother's bed. ************************* JEFFREY LITTLE / KAROLINE WILECZEK doggie-style 1. the boogieman he licked my glass of ass the boogieman a tin hat hot he wore it shone out my gut spiked tongue talking trash to the biscuit the piehole & trout the butter it rolled lapped up by the squat dog by the curbside a stogie his yap flap yap flapping bent over & spread thin 2. gutsnake the coat of arms the flag side of happy moist i rose from the fire 3. if the wind spoke slowly enough i'd understand a casket the boxed pine tongue chiseled out from my blade would split down the center opening lava broth bubbling a newt's tongue lapping the tastebuds in a biscuit of sunnyside up 4. i showered w/the boogieman the butter of spam bloomed full blast out the side of my face the drain it wilted dogside sausage smoking in a pan choked the watering can a sprin- kle thankful a gratitude of fur it warms my buckles my hairy spine so i wait on the pitchfork of tuna & snout ******************** JEFFREY LITTLE / JIM LEFTWICH HARMS a can of wet splints pints compliant cannibals the babel of quaint squints against better judgment battering the ham but labeled as bets ******************** GEORGE ALBON / STEVE CARLL AFTER DIFFICULTY There is a now that is feigning wingbreak and that is harmony. When to be blind and make sense of the moving mediums: the walnuts stabilized in the rising dough. An aporia augmented by a lacuna. When we mention hitting the wall it's a term of what's been captured, green words moving across a black band, moored there indefinably but marked with meticulous attention. (And in the end, the cash you make begins to make sense of you.) I was thinking--in grecian weather the open is the home, and drawing the nod forward like moonstones. It was cold. People looked out at us, like we were brave. "You wouldn't know us. We're not famous." But gaining volume in the background, the combine pushed over into pure flurries of security. Openless, we finally noticed. Something like a circus had been there, though something else. Banners only referred to their colors. A discipline of tongues set free and set aside in the same motion. It was the year of our babbling. "What we meant" only brought up out of manner. To make sense of the long curb, it was chess. Mercy out of politeness, witnesses gathering at the gate. The table rocked like a rock. Our end narrowed to the sustaining plot of the ground we'd seen there. The world is for us to enjoy, that's what it's for. Dream-seminars are easy, like layers of comfort and awareness, while the usurpers' words lie buried in their throats. The attractive heart pulls in space for the sparkword's return. Burnt visions are the price of cramped quarters but there you are above your shadow-- there are tutors of the verge yet seeking you you must hear. ************************************** JOHN M. BENNETT / JAKE BERRY FALLING FORMULATION Four falling waters there, and a firey drain clenched around my nuts I'm praying they'll sever singing, in the splashing up laughing for oxygen silver pockets, a fester, a worm, a mole crooning drips of liveraide. So the hockings set and learn, mooning a hole or gulped slushed, the anus wet and eager to deliver fortune (er, tunes of delving in the spirochetes) played me snake bobbing harlots in a necklace blown's screaming, er, reaming the formulation of an afterblow, droplets hanging ************************************** JEFFREY LITTLE / ALAN SMITH theskinneefux bozak there's a flute in the runny nose of deduction that refuses to play my requests, thickened and corpuscularly plump as mailmen the delivery of evening news coincides w/eggs unheard owing to the lumbago of the average ear. it follows that the rucksack is seen. though the tick i walk to work grows fat, i've decided on a shaved head a hat and green peas for lunch. what can't be carried should dig it's own hole. this is the way of the wet nurse in the wilds of vegetative spawn, the creeper who cramps creole when savales crosses into kine. ******************** STACEY SOLLFREY / JOHN M. BENNETT IN THE IMPRINTS Sitting in the imprints between the swim tubes and toilet bowls where the sheets behind the garage wave like cheeks in the hot sleep of bones rippling in front of the dogs ribcage like a sunken nose or a thigh seeped with milk wilting in their hats growing rubber noses the rain turned inside out ******************** JUXTA/ELECTRONIC 16 (part 2)