a friend has breathe ~ d

A friend OF _ Orpheus close to the lane, close to the wool, le wool like they say in patio patois Français?
why fight for a dead oppressor`s tongue?

each super Quote d Text provides an InterioR Text that subsides cuts across the other ones.

poetry in action ... like the interview with Mister Deleuze he say he and

Guattari have abandoned the term schizo-analysis.

its like milton abandoning god for Satan, the greatest schizo herO of all time.

(think of those wings spanning the infinite creation of desire ~ )

__ goals of grunting (horses in the night __ slander of desire's bed)

the reel question

is not to be or not to be but how become a flow/cut across arrow lines leaving trails... the actual quest

zippings in the void

What is poetry,and what does it do? an
that is

an exciting question: says Jill Opening Her Mouth Wide

As gaggles of geese flay the night weed, the free bear of hope,
taste, lines, zizags, trail of partner and ask of why
over a tent a cope

fine tires

waking for nirvana
connect affinity toward, becomings of lips, concave apartments
stones weary at night
an already crowded self
is asking a lot of questions to the crown of
if not thorns
then step sisters
in tropical harvests
as I wander walk an avenue Avernus and the
even Trojan hiss
debate the marking dash
of humming birds
sparrows in the dark

where love the lion found
his name

delIrEs From the Bog

: L'Abecedaire de Papa Gilles Deleuze

So Mona recollects Jill and her worstawowool suit and her armchair blues

Actually it would give him that "far-away" look. A turn of thecentury like appearance, which would be interesting, don't you think? He speaks to us from the distance of the past. Or the past that was his future, I mean virtually his future.

That is his past past future as thesepia tones twinkle across to us the viewers....and the magic moment of the stone.Ah yer blues, with the armchair sepia and a view on the night of random chosen bodies

letters to the rhizomers
to lovers

...Once upon a spring it was Jill was weaving her burnous and her disjunctive synthesis to the Latin of Amerique. it was a tall and noble place....Stravinsky wanted to say enjoyed yer symphony , the bird of fire

and Jill's
rhizomatic soldiers More please!
Oh Rhizome

be my home my home
without a homemy home with out a poemmy poem sans pomesans l'homme in them days
Mona had many sympathizers when she was forming her 'formation' breaks and starts,
schizo skills and stars...

So then, Mona, enter the burrow, the barrage, the mirage of tables, indexes, times, dates,pale stars, wings, riddle raddles, marriages of knocks, closing shades, miracle whip weaves, melancholy fakirs, diamond sluice meltdowns, sloughed desire storms, caged sundowns, deconstructed passages,h--lines which cut, forlorn stacks of adjectives forcing the weepdown rakefrom --hyaline hampers.

But of all the words
she has offered
nones if has none
the matin
as freight
her shoulders

as free

(obeying aortas fronting
the temple


as what?


incomplete hurry to stutter
beans and nothing
boulders beneath her eyes

Ask why this has your name
if my hands are seized are broken
will you see them?
is it not time
to matter

away the stairs fall from memory
our walk into the city

our walk
the children

our fostered selves



and this too is another segment of a molecule fiction

so the radio?
Oh thatzzzzzzzzzfictive two ~