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Tuesday 13 May 2014

A Preview of David McLean's 'of desire and the lesion that is the ego' (Oneiros Books)


unassuming absence

we wear our deaths here
like crows wear their forgotten feather
to tear a spark from heaven
carrying coals to hell yourselves
a sweaty missing -
here is the artless heart,
dust to dream in


and children stand ghosts bony their feet
they are dreamless
it is not the insane collaboration
of all these fates,
just collective dead men,
nothing to be heaven
but dust and the insolent drugs;
nothing is love enough
the children stand ghosts and homeless;
they are going nowhere and home

broken social

it is worlds broken and the words that tied the together pottage and impotence, rubble and ruin an ancient temple withstanding its forgetting all of this degenerate secondary forever, here we have put the unforgiven like rulers and children. the moon shines her mindless slight light to silver blanket a land where perverts might inhabit their eminent territories made of forever and forgettable; where de Sade and his loveless cutlery dwell full of temerity, terror and not touching, nothing immoral or needing forgiving. the castle is an arrow intended, a progressive sense of heaven, incarnated again in us tonight like Bodhidharma dancing, the Bodhisattva vow broken like a bow intent on missing. what it feels to lose everything you ever had or wanted forever is ecstasy and madness. traveling is a question of lost and disembarking at random; the goals are targets are all broken. happy is the homeless. there have been gods and seas and lakes and water and sweaty Dagon sleeps his days dreamless to arise from some sullen sea formless, like words jumping up from being like startled values falling apart stupid as a family of partridges; the mirrors are fragile and unforgivable like nightmares and impossible, this is the quotidian listless the anxious razor waiting. here is blood and dead skin, the arms of ridiculous children.

 & here comes god

It is not the sleep of reason that engenders monsters,
but vigilant and insomniac rationality
(Deleuze & Guattari)

and here comes their god,
a penis and a policeman,
armed with lack, law and signifier
to pollute this plenum
passion with guilt
and priests and right
and wrong
there are doctors among us -
the significance is short,
the murder long

'of desire and the lesion that is the ego' is available here

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