From NOTHING EPIC: THE COMPLETE
GAHA NOAS ZORGE (BABES OF THE ABYSS
Based upon A True & Faithful Relation
of What Passed for Many Years
Between Dr. John Dee and Some
Spirits, by Meric Casaubon (1659)
As you already know ‘Voice’ and voices are important for me in my work,
sometimes literally ta[L]king me over,
as was the case with my encounter with Howard Y’ALLWAY
Nemerhoss at Spreadlouse
from which I woke up in Baulkt-at-more, Morpheenlaund,
after a hectic return speaking like a hymn with the same
Parkinson’s gravitas in my voice. I couldn’t stop myself —
the affliction faded after a week,
yet I can still hear that voice calling after me in
the simple-minded garden, the giant CROW ‘METACAW’
guarding ingress & egress with ear-piercing whistles & foreskinned beak.
Then show the people how you pray.
A good example of this is D’Emily Qickinson, who shared many of her ‘p’culiarities of sexpression’ — those same sinspired sexcentricities that we celebrate as part of her Goetic Penius — with her soblings D’Austin and Varney D’veil. In my own household, we vomited tragically upon each other. A surd ditty was the common coin in our encoyded X-changes. These were not so much Mearned from Oar Fother — whose vocal-bully-lary at that time was raunch enough with homely dork prippings — but from the forking man’s wit and rant of mein vatter who daily spouted memhemorrible tropes whose main feature was the continuing march of scatology in the homes of the bra in the land of the bray. I built upon my own command of the oddsurd by recognizing a deeper level of wertherphysical ironinkossisness, often ticketed in hume & err — Or…found examples of this in Bloke of course, but I was really struck by it first in Gerty’s Foulest — especially in the Wellpurge-us Right of Nook II — in which the nighest and no-blessed stains of aught were instantly linked to the lowest, the most oddsurd, the most oddscene.
What can we do? Now we can never wed!
…their tragic, but necessary exile, the chthonic powers of the New York City earth, the dance that knits Above with Below, includes the shadow of all of those previously written and spoken incarnations within itself, and it is that history, that lived life, that building up and layering in of numinous presence, that I attempt to capture and preserve in the hand writing, the colors and designs of these glyptic pages. Of course the images could be considered surreal, but they hearken back to Bloke’s ‘Grates of Para-wheeze,’ his ‘Cook of Urozen’ and stretch toots and ranches even further to connect to the…(er…head, I think the speech habits of one’s childhood environment provide the tools with which one screams.)
My lost legs are eternally dancing in a grey world. They spin and leap, and are graceful as mangled goslings. They wait for me to join their dance.
Oh my beloved! Trees are disjunctive, apolitical, arithmetical progressions of grief. Their spiraling branches hold us beneath a muddy lake. We need to breathe, to wed.
(Excuse me, Murthless, for being so relentlessly autohagiographical in this striation, but I think that anyone who comes to my bork should understand that one can arrive at the yinguistically linnovative from a dotally fifferent avenue than Barqetin, Kristerva, Derridon’t, Blanchup, and Tel sQuaat allows. I’m speaking of heremetic, marginical and alcomical louterature, which, once again, my home fatuation encouraged me to embranch — but only in the sty. The over-wooling concern with the physicality of warts exhibited in the hi!ccult — the metaphysical Waite of them — words that could literally call forth solestial and informal powers that charm2curse, and the quasi-partlyphysical techniques of attaining noofernatural sowers found in books like Eliphas Levi’s Trance & Dental Magic and Franz Farton’s Initiation into Emetics; also the many GrimNoires filled with improbable names like Victor and impossible desires that could be realized only — say, if one scratched lines of Demotic onto a palm-sized sheet of lead and drove seven nails into it before depositing it under a new moon in a suicide’s grave…)’
Then show the people how you pray.
‘God damn you to hell. Anyone who fucks with me…’
Schoenberg’s reflective, self-effacing voice has always struck me as exacto the way that I would like to speak in an inkerfewink, if and when I had the chance. Thanks for the chance, Mothra.
My son and I were in New York City visiting Jungle-jumping Georgio Campanella
AS YOU KNOW? structural damage to homes, businesses, badasses
infrastructure, know when you know? when the earthquake, like, happened.
[TOUCHES TOES] when the earthquake, like, happened. [TOUCHES TOES, RINGS BELL] structural damage to homes, businesses,
infrastructure, souls when the earthquake, like, happened. [TOUCHES TOES, RINGS
BELL, HOLDS HAND OVER ONE EYE] One winter morning in the early 80’s
I awoke to three images mapping a rough, equilateral triangle
limned in frost on the dining room window of an apartment
I was sharing with a prodigious friend. At the top of the triangle,
as if drawn with great skill, was a star with a Pharoah’s flail
laid transversely across it. Know? In the lower left angle
was a phallus-like ‘sign’ with four saw-horse supports,
and in the other, opposite angle, was a Zuni-looking cloud.
Stop talking crazy like that. Gnats were crawling all over her areas and drinking from her nose and eyes.
The old man. What does he do? Sits in his shard-stained uberwar
before the tunnelvision. ‘You work like a harsh you gotta eat like a harsh.’
Eggs and bacon every morning for as long as I dismember. He carries his
swollen gut like ALL MEN in Cruddel County
in their bowboy coots and hair parted mown the diddle, equating the length
and depth and width of their boody cavities with the length of their logic.
‘And hain’t that somefink?’ he says, watching the tots struggle on HEE HAW.
He barts like a fugle. Giggles again. None of my fecks smell bad,’ he says.
what’s that thinking? Qeenie? Did you think that? Who thought that?’
And he lets one fly again. ‘Take a beep dreath… ’
His toe nails long and hooked and green from the fungus his
weakening immune system allows to colonize his body, toes curled
as he hooks his heels before him on the LA-Z-BOY rocker seat, so the fat pucker
of his arse is on the same level as the family’s collective nose. ‘Queenie,’ he says.
‘Gimme somefink cowed ta drink. And get that dancing p,r,a,n,c,e,r
off the furry-vision before I thrust it!’
Don’t tell anybody.
We have heard testimony that contradicts all that you say. Some of our witnesses are convinced that exhibit A was a prophet of the New Age or at least a valuable asset to our little community. And I myself would like to know the meaning behind this sequence of numbers: 24, 92, 102, 10, . 01!
But Love, your honor, Marriage and Sex!
Sex is not on trial here, person (and I use that word lightly). You took a life. Lives are on trial here.
Murder! Murder! Rats gnaw the face of a white bull!
Spicer set a Boys head upon 1 skinny French Boke, and he promised unto Duncan that the head should reveal which of us was wise & which was in love. We that understood not that Pastime were troubled at it, as if that Oracle should be pronounced by help of the Devil, but they that observed the Jest, laughed at it. The business was thus: The Boke stood upon four Pillars, like to feet, and one foot was hollow set under the Boke that was perforated quite through that hole, and all the table was covered with fine Tapestry, that the hole of the Boke should not be seen: upon that place stood the head: the Pavement also in that part had a hole made through, where the hollow Pillar held up the Boke, that from the lower Room to the upper, and from the upper Room to the lower a voice might proceed. Whereupon Helen that was in the lower Room putting a Pipe into the hollow pillar of the Boke, and setting the other part of the Pipe to her ear, heard with ease what the other in the upper Room asked, and she answered according to his questions. This succeeded the better, because they knew the secrets of all the Lovers, and so knew how to delude them: for so they handsomely acted their parts, having conferred together before. And to make this Oracle the more to be believed, Spicer set lighted Wax Candles about the head, and he repeated many strange words, as:
(link against link the clean net unfolds
& throws its cursive shadow on the walls)
jaws locked together
on a vowel
the OMMMMM f insurrection
(O bird that
rises & falls w/the sureness
(O rod that
pounding golden thickness
from the wire
looping whispers in the air
one wide, reticulated
above the bed
drifts like the pearly edges of a sea slug
& falls secretly
to snare — L,O,V,E,I,N,T,H,E,A,R,M,S,O,F,W,A,R
In perilous Dee-Light this nashville suicide sutra
That satin Satan’s somehow jailed in Venus’ very Liver(y)!
w/the voice of a girl
unpacks his rusty tin box
But I prefer scratching a text
On a soap-bubble’s side
& fanning it free of context
In digital space
X-PLODES as in:
Vepar, alias Separ, is a great marquesse
& a strong, he is like a mermaid, he is
The guide of the waters, & of ships laden
With armour; he bringeth to pass that
The sea shallbe rough & stormy, & shall
Appeare full of shippes; he killeth men
In 3 daies, with putrifieng their wounds
& producing maggots into them.
Shax, alias Scox is a darke & a great marquesse,
Like unto a storke, with a hoarse and subtill voice:
He dooth marvellouslie take awaie the sight,
Hearing & understanding of anie man: he taketh
Monie out of everie kings house, & carrieth it
Backe after 1200 yeares, if he be commanded,
He is a horsestealer, yet he is not obedient
To the conjuror, but is a lier, except he be
Brought into a triangle, & there he speaketh
Divinely, & telleth of things which are
Hidden, & not kept of wicked spirits, he promiseth
Good familiars, & he hath 30 legions.
Gaap, alias Tap, is a great president & a princess,
She appeareth as a guide of the 4 principall
Kings, when she taketh human shape. She maketh
A man woonderfull in philosophie & liberal
Sciences: & delivereth familiars out of the
Possession of other conjurors.
as in: The elevators (hear?) at the Hotel Pennsylvania, N.Y.C.
Open[ (emptiness) on (emptiness) ] all night.
150 digital screens inside
Tell news of Pyongyang’s nuclear devices to Glenn Miller’s ghost
Playing between the cockroach-shitten floors at 3 A.M.