The Sad Machines
The machines that have been established, old or not old
...having to break them.
And the parts
on the plain.
And false blue-prints -- erratic diagrams
somebody brings up from a state to the south
deploy deep contradictions.
And the reason people do this --
the reason people stay up late to destroy the large machines
taking pains to disassemble the apparatus-map-objects
is not to proclaim new apparatus-maps
that could not, in any case, be used to induce new objects
Someone is riding in on a new car.
A mirror is set in her belly.
I can hear the heat her soul emits lounging next to me.
It is an impossible sensation.
I can feel the heat taking place inside her body.
This is exactly what I mean.
Now other people come out of the dark
having something to emit.
that do not take place in the material universe as such
nothing is disrupted in thought when we see them ride
through the room with no hinges -- they pass through doors.
How immensely unserious of these beings to evade
solidity of night objects --
they seem not to know where they are.
They behave in a manner that betrays an incompetence to deal
appropriately at all with conditions we find normal here
but where have we come from
and what is this blue caboose
that does not move -- people keep it as a kind
and quaint museum.
Only inside -- black water puddles.
The luminous blots are sentient creatures that's true
but the things they are aware of are things from a blotted world.
They are out. They are blotted out.
But exude a casual light
so that if we have to assign to them a nature
it is a contradicted nature.
A nature blotted out.
When people emit these blots or are these blots
it sounds a lot like the sound of apparatus-maps
disrupting huge machines.
The aged king walks across the boat-deck.
I ride the back of an elephant
and turn into a chinese
It is dark
and here and there vast
drop in the rubble
and a frantic barn-owner balances on the beams
before they fall
against the darkness
of the house on fire.
And an octopus has died
and cast up its hulk on the sea surface
and later I think about a little corn man
about to be reborn.
The black table cloth where all cows are all nights long
as large as the lake.
Something inside the being-body
flat and still
absorbing waves of heat or beams of light
at the belly bottom
inside the mountain
there is some vast cave space
at the bottom of which a lake is black
just because no light gets in there.
It is a lake deprived
and a lake so deprived can have different events in it than
brighly lighted lakes.
When wind or sunlight ruffles the tops of these
it makes all the people who gaze at them very old.
But black lake is not old not young not good not bad.
It takes on no identities, new or old.
New or young.
Young or old.
But black lake had a key of many keys
dropped down into it from the top of a cavern
and once again twice I drop an old key
forever into the water in the darkness
where no body has ever been yet a key
hangs from the top of the cavern
and there is a moment at the center of a certain history
wherein that key drops down
breaking the water.
On the backs of elephants dozens of me glare
into the distant area
forgetful of being.
Fools are jigging on the top of a blue caboose
as the train goes by.
The train goes by itself.
have the texture of whispers --
the whispers of giant beings
voiceless, though loud.
It is a train fifty feet high with the head of a dog.
So the people who emit and the faulty apparatus-map-objects
seem as one.
And sometimes they combine
like kings on the backs of elephants
triumphal through the towns
to --suade the local awestruck populations
about their awesome deep triangulations
emitting broken machines from the back of the sky.
The queen goes into the lake.
The old and local magistrate
takes off his fish-head.
Takes off his riverine nostalgia.
Does his public duty.
Dons his robes.
Starts to think and promulgate his wisdom
across the netowrk of little rural towns
like a decent person.
Every moment possesses a two-headed animal.
Two little mice
run out of the body.
The whole replaces itself with another mouse hole
into the night of its own perturbation.
One of the mice has a large brown wooden spoon it found.
It took that spoon and dropped it into time
causing quite a pother.
The two-headed mouse disappears in its own attempt to
catch a glimpse of itself.
One thing looks in back of itself and one thing
looks ahead of itself and what it sees is another
version of itself
looking back at itself.
The aged king grows young again.
Walks on the deck of the yacht in the sunlit bay.
At the moment when the sun goes down
the glitter on the ridge poles
unites with the silence of my mind
to open the earth for me.
Still-shots of myself thinking
in numerous poses
at many ages of my life
some not lived yet.
I stand on the backs of giants
and upside down suspended
fron the enormous cavern
feeling that overwhelms me
are thousands more of me
An infinite line of elephants
connected trunk to tail
and on the back of each of them
one of me.
One swart king sits
in his cabana
on top of each of the pachiderms
connected trunk to tail
past a check-point
Part of it had once been a man.
It lay there in the corner of the hut
having folded itself up in.
The creature was human except for the eyes.
The creature extricated itself from the
corner it was curled in. I realized that the eyes
it had, were not human eyes.
Alone in the morning, curled beneath the wooden beams,
the creature was human, except for the eyes.
Sockets full of amber
lights in place of eyes large pools of amber.
He was walking beside me and I turned to my left.
There was a curdling in the space
and then he was gone. I mean he folded up inside
his own concavity.
The cave that was in him consumed him.
Spaces are of three kinds: they are acids,
bases or neuters. The acids actively seek
to dissolve the substance of the egg. The bases
seek to draw the substance within the egg, out from it.
And the neuter space allows the egg to determine its own destiny
projecting its inner substance or withdrawing it,
according to inner design.
The blackness of the interior of the cave
became the luminosity of the egg surface.
became the convexity.
Actuality became conceptuality.
The thing I thought, extended in time.
Time had two parts in each part.
It was a mammal
and the mammal had two heads.
And one of the heads passed a word to the ear of the other,
then vanished or seemed to lose material presence.
But the second head remained
and in front of it a third head sprung out
from the shoulders of the mammal.
At first the new head seemed a ghostly shape
but as the hard head turned towards it
this third one grew substantial
and inclined the ear it had
to the mouth of the other
the mouth of the other
delivered its word to the ear
of the third head
and then vanished
or seemed to lose materiality
while the third head turned away
and a fourth head sprang from the shoulder
without materiality at first
only a lucent blot
but then it turned
and began to assume physical existence
as it received the word
and the third head vanished
or seemed to lose materiality
while the fourth head turned away
conceptuality became actuality
and the time I spent, was born in thought
and the mammal gave birth to two mammals
and the two mammals were the first beast and a new one
which grew out of it
and the two were one
and they spoke together
and the thing they said was a new thing
and the two mammals together and the new thing the two mammals spoke of
and the mammals were one thing and the thing said another
and these two were one
and these two things as one thing was one thing
and these two things as two things was another thing
and these together made a new pair of two things
Inside the body of the mammal there is a cave
and when the mammals speak the cave becomes an egg
and the inside of the cave which was black
becomes the egg shell which is buff or white or blue
but always luminous, always pulsing, always sending waves.