Comic Spectacle to a Vague Mirror

The luxury of now is that the cancelled gala has been
Put back in. The orchestra is starting to tune up.
–John Ashbery, from The Explanation

blurred horns or conical sound wave vortices
crown the pinging necking satyrs where pan-
aromatic enclosing artifice yields substantial
inner environments, nothing is directly aligned
with its own mixed and ironic origin story’s
bullet train to the ancient fervor of water~
is hyper-glee beyond all good and evil
in the grassy hovering globes it tends to sing with

in the newspaper some mediocre awards
are publicly showering and having a shave
night stalks the night on a distant meteorite
but the space between is an~ optical smear
of meadow’s pheasant cabin

more unlikely than the mantis
pheasant robot winnebago
pfizer number two today
numerically moist
breathing ~customs whose

feathered interpenetrating fields of videovibrato
give unlikely timeless and autonomous shadow reports
how is the thing that exists unaware of what it might
not represent the arrangements of most sequences
for causing abandonment, lake islands that house
erotic custom homes of exquisite craftsmanship~
japanese mid-century post-modern rousseau-clone
family of ladies left empty by a cursed musing of
taken at birth to an iron handled cauldron entrance

any movie they cared to make could not
move the cellular blockade that had been
placed on the arrival ~of imagination collars
that somehow simulated the evolution
of awareness fidgeting in itself
to random ends

or finding friends on the internet
suddenly conjoined in the body of old king coal
our operatic gravity-free surgery~ performance
was live united by a foam of free-willed
camera and microphone drones
What am I doing down here?
somehow quick soft flashes of light
move between the roundtable of horned
and~ hovering fruit head knights being painted
in earshot needle cast of the unlikely events
too beautiful to be consumed by the past or future
of anything but a living meat of pearls
through hollow green plant ceramic tunnels
[…]~[…]

door Lanny Quarles

tekstbron: llliterature - Facebook
opgenomen in WEEKBLADEN #47 - linkse blauwvoeten

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