Tag Archives: Cut-Up Writing

flarf foo for

flarf foo for henri (clerisy pleurisy) a mourning veil a thin membrane a condolence card pulped in rain the literati daisy chaina bottle of cloven-foot skronk hear the krang of the washtubthe whiddle of the fiddle a simple onetwothree wheezei … Continue reading

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annealed

“I sometimes think of what future historians will say of us. A single sentence will suffice for modern man: he fornicated and read the papers. After that vigorous definition, the subject will be, if I may say so, exhausted.” — … Continue reading

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we are refluxing

Abecedarian: The Qua of Qui Allow me to tell you—as of the who—a liturgy of finely grained righteousness cleansed, folded and articulated: Bestial birth canals and unguents squeezed from bodies now desiccated— Concupiscent casuistry led us to our troubles Delineated … Continue reading

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abyssal in lisle

The Cabbaged Moon La lune jejune (y perturbada) Ghosts clogging the liminal spacesEthers from an agonal breathSleep descends Heavy Abyssal in lisle-like sheenBarbaric (without the pantaloons) “I mean Negative Capability, that is, when a man is capable of being in … Continue reading

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germ of everything

These Findings In the dust motes of the sea—In the rains of seeds—The germ of everything,A death blow averted. “When you paused for a poemit could reshape the dayyou had just been living.” — Naomi Shihab Nye / “Every day … Continue reading

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hours of derision

the bully pulpit twaddle i am an american—the imprimatur of power, panache and a modicum of common sense —the mighty illegitimate master of meretriciousness—if i break ground here there is annunciation and caffeinenated twaddle—would you pass the elephantine hours of … Continue reading

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riddles and baffles

Queen Travis Meets Whit Fictions Queen Travis declaims that feculence has nothing to do in this affair. She says: “I was bequeathed a third rate hand me down in consignment and inquisitiveness—a loan from dog. I’ve got the scrabble tiles … Continue reading

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oh stop me

Bad Case of Mondegreen Chut, man, he’s got thee upturned syllogism logic. He’s also got a bad case of the Higgs-Boson blues. He’s got the anthropocene cold shoulder, and a slight case of thee reliquary saint’s joints and bone shards … Continue reading

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saliva slings loosed

Her Midwinter Blues I pine for the days of guileless saliva slings loosed down to my toes, before the unexpected guttings and unremitting blood—ratiocination fading—eddying down the bathtub drain… “Every man you ever meet is nothing but the product of … Continue reading

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soggy piss-chips

Building / SILENCE Building fictions is an addiction not easily quenched. A need, psychological and physiological that renders one a hamster inside the wheel—no stopping until you’re ejected into the corner where all the soggy piss-chips accrue. Bring pleasant talk … Continue reading

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