the bks. I've|haunted wills

Even ``I`` __ fictional __ epistemes _
what is the I? that

"sheI've twenty-two" "bks.6 or 7 published. twenty two bks. five years radio 12-13 year" s performance. readin's" series in two citiesseveral" several fverses _ how to sepell versse? anorexic dyslexic _read yer text ANti

[not pure fiction but function] [across the esteems of time]
novels in various "states _ say 4? prose poems in the near 10,000. experiments. record""ings from the seventies. collages in varied sizes. most of these wreckd. "one Mister C. possesses "refuses to return. film footage owned by sundry" folk.
thousands of texts, say 30, ooo? one cannot count. really the production beneath capitalism. whatis capitalism _ the abil"""itee to produce more money. food banks, fer instance,

how does one assess this production? and the letters? hundreds, many containing verse, bits, poems, prose frag"ments, hun"dreds, school papers, a n archive of disaster. then one wonders who takes c""are or shall take care of this" upheaval and the"

endless unhappiness of the body

think of the waste

spille'd spoiled seed which others laugh at
[laugh if you are one of them_ who laugh]

think it's funny

endless con-versations __ none of which were paid for, spent fortune of __

miracle endless nightmare

if this was not a way of life , what was it?

"you" will never get this" [what is the you? what is an I, a You]

lost abandoned, and the videos" of a performance at les foufounes electrique destroyed.

thousands of photos from the ryan larkin days

in preparation

for shows


taped & stuffed in dusty basements


kisses fragmented in the


too easy

pulverized into dust

electronic or otherwise

bodi and bodhi dharma



this is your body

this is my body

& radios speak of noble prizes
for writers
whose books are endlessly libraried and sold bought given taught

to be a writer

the great rip-off

ripped off the skin of Oedipus

a machin for writing

Pierre Guyotat was right enuff of this writing of neurosis we need a writing of psychosis

the endless commercial of death

there will be no splendid ending
justa puking out of guts

and shit




for what

the dream



this is your body

this then

for culverts





thank-you .