Foreword to the Colon of Pastorius

Could I behold those hands, which span the poles
And tune all spheres at once, pierced with those holes ?

 
 The first condition of emergence for clandestines was to build  counterfeits, simulacrums, then kilns to burn them in. Shadowgraphs came out the chimneys. Fertile ground in religious artifacts turned gas to light and marketed in different clothing about the globe.

The second condition was to stimulate the electronic architecture of its spread. These Images obliterated the old. Anti-Pop obliterated Pop. One decade could not recognize another. Quiet murmuring thought under the breath, going on and on in amazing cascades of speech, no crescendo, all diminution leaning toward the ear, a monotone. We all hanker for flash thoughts continually remade and can hardly remember when we were not lost in internal meanderings. This came into being between the war and the next decades full blown, if unknown. That was a long decade, two of them, but time was a putty of place that did once exist, but also imaginary, and of the same place that did not yet exist, so was apocryphal. One hardly knows how to call such rubric, geographically and politically legitimate and not. All the more evocative texts are set to show disjunctures. We come up with different phrases, physiognomies of crowd in a future construction of literary form, inner boulevards, phantasms of interior, a flower on a night table, overnight rannunculus accounts to create a new world in a world that does and does not exist, and of its mundane causes it lacks the mundane. The cosmos, the woman, the dirt, the fire, the fierce frenzy, instead the plot is just ended even while it has not. The illusion of time to call it that has ended in zivilization, all the states and nations put up and they do, calling themselves,
  

SHIKUTS MESHOMEM,

king of locusts  when the fifth angel hits. Crowned bat horse scorpions of  extraordinary rendition and detention of past traditions. This combat occurred - ship ahoy high academe. EU is one Greek language name for SUN. SUN is one name of Apollyon. The "eye with which the universe Beholds itself and knows itself divine" (Shelley, Hymn of Apollo). Alien forces with the pagan rituals of Rome, if such ideas can even fit an English sentence, announcements made simultaneously by church, govt, UN, presidents and entertainment figures--Jay Z to swing a million votes, Beyonce, Will Smith, Russell Crowe speak for the heads of science, locusts of the public transfer upon all others of their past beliefs. So that's the plot. A play on words reveals the King of hell, Apollyon, like Abaddon, “destroyer” a name for Sheol. Apollo, apoliea, Appolyon, king of locusts here "had a king, angel of the bottomless pit, whose name in Hebrew is Abaddon, but in the Greek Apollyon." Apoleia, Apollyon, Apollo institutes the new gov. Here Comes the Sun? Not to worry four insights of the utterly bald suburb of pilots in blue got lifted up to pipe among the stones of fire. After they saw the image of jealousy, the abominable beasts, women weeping for Tammuz between the porch and the altar, about 25 men turned their backs toward the temple, profaned Mahomets out of Charlie Hebdo. They worshipped the sun east and put the branch up to their nose. Stars set out to mark the seasons, then fell like figs. Strong winds littered the ground.  Here's a  thorn in flower, one small way of access only, close-curtained from light to Utterance! So to pick them up with, one by one in overt nakedness, this fig has a secret. Its scarlet leaves sown deep as underworlds fell. It's as though the figs were eager to fall, like drivers with high beams who change their minds, embarrassed by the Sirian from the pre-Ptolemic systems, and turn the lights completely off. Whether before or after star worship, fig bondage drops ripeness and that is all. ripe and overripe. one last scientific gold world  as big. Ask and it shall be given. Dreams have significance.

  I was overtaken by telling the truth, snuck up on, but far from resisting. It was for the best. Later I resisted, took the way of the world, but the diaspora was incomplete, interrupted by repatriation, rescue. How memory plunges into change, not just remembering the times or results but the actual events which come more and more to appear is if  engineered. I plunge everything experienced into the eternity of remembrance, everything finite and contingent is forgotten and erased. In short, at 17, going down that hill, or shortly thereafter, as if Kafka read Kierkegaard to find out, what Borges sought at the end in Geneva, that transparent promise of True Light that lights everyone who comes into the world. Either that or in prison and casualty in some war found me riveted as my eyes watched the high heels of women in the street flap up and down as they walked, hips and booty swinging, arms reflected in the bare neon signs, the smell of buses idling their diesel fumes.

Those outraged by this hibernality were caged. They tramped around with short barks, bites bigger than fiction. Very unwilling to sacrifice babies for stem cells. Their captors put them in the Cage. Anything or anyone sacrificed for human life they opposed. Twenty million gators, Agent Orange, a pittance of sarin. gallons of that. That is, these people disappeared and everyone at the Institute was quiet. Remember Yahoo is a tree, not reality. Tiers of cages  arranged so excrement from the top would fall on those below. Cats with wires, dogs carved open, monkeys imploring, it's science, see, unless it stops, not that it must, but it does. Professor Gaumlach's head, root on someone's neck, sang like a tuneless breeze.

Final EU World transgenic religion achieved contact with Sagan. Charlemagne was raised in the Opiomes of many to a mind. Caligari above, another below.  Do you see a way to say it? Bengalis above? Clarke had the substance. Out damn Matrix. Nothing violent about taking a head.

Sagan, Sagan on the wall, 

who the Max Transhumanist of all?

Hungerhauser research, Dr. Graefenberg's BabyNauer, crime and embryo. Science myth was new faith. Dwight Eisenhower had the baby to change the world. Obermacher Serbottendorff took down his spear. Make sure to get the lineup to transcend.

This Unscientific Postscript of kidnap cages during and after the real. Toying with the bone of Sufi zen, saffron spirituality went along with  patriot fame worship. In our day journalists were priests, writers psychoanalysts, with the necessary prurient bent, notably a Britich trait with collective annihilation of the head. Britich paratroopers in common with buffalo hunters took the tongue, stomped Submergence. They believed the primitive and the beast utmost to the Queen, was ut audiant audire. The Queen owned the Denver Airport, which continued all the way to those abandoned boats off shore.

Autonomic functions restored, glasses connected to iPad, all devices synced cognitive prosthesis. External brain replaced that thing you wear above your neck. Now you can remember where you parked.  Be aware. Know what’s going on! Everything's connected, your phone will know. And the brain. Get one. Every stud of reptile lit invokes space. Brothers bring 8 billion ihumes to say it. Also believe when I tell you about the mouse. Mighty Blake has Hegel's Trust in this, who said the amorphous seed is every part reality to Mabinogs. Government scientists ain't got this yet. Morpheus, Amorphous,  opposites of fire and water resolved in air. Male / female resolved some androgyne. The  phenomenon of light and dark discouraged this, as death and life, which seem to have no middle state. Great Ludwig Wittgen's head at Airpark said, "can that which be not is?" These anyway were the noncontradictions, bete noir of the Ists, who could not overcome irrelevance of pedestals.  Noncoded genome, not black or white. UNbinary! I don't see how you can have the Principia (PM) in your garage unless the incompleteness theorem comes. Driving this dimension we see other organ senses posed, in other words the Tilt-a-Whirls. Many riders experience nausea from spin in different directions at variable speeds. They are spraying the negative optical transfer to the world.

Every dream of bears sums up here, milked for bile in a narrow cage, humanity  practiced infinitely in American labs, all for the good. Is it enough to kill the animal when it finally escapes? Well the answer to that in Switzerland and Holland was the release from torture being death and for them death was great. Of course to Mandy Patinkin on Charlie, to get the confusion of Babel clear, he hates death. All the rich hate death, the poor are their relief. Mandy and Charlie need any spare body parts you may likewise have. In the name of science see, in the end, at the end, when matters will be told.

The intimate of Mesopotamia, watery Claudius Drusus Germanicus! Alexander, Caesar, Napoleon loosed their satellites for war. Offerings, blood worship, river rising, first to the ankles then loins, many trees on both sides. It comes from the east and flows to the desert and sea, spiritu things, waters where all trees fruit according to months, one each for food and medicine because the water flows out from the house, the house a holy oblation four square for possession of the city and the name of the city Jerusalem, for Jahu is there, to complete the restoration. The west wall of Jerusalem is on my head. The geologic layers, the Babylonian Talmud are on my head. The Lehmann discontinuit, the Mohorovičić discontinuity, Hadean,  Archean, Proterozoic, Paleozoic, Mesozoic,  Cenozoic are over me, but in fact I am walking on their surface, as if walking on water, in which I sink, which gives some meaning of Leviathan and Jonah. And Jesus! 45 stone courses, 28 above and 17 under ground. Streets, cities, houses underground had fallen to ruin, a beauty of extinct volcanoes fertile from the lava that grows paradise orchards. To slip through the holes to turn, to wind, wriggle a way out of the evening you wanted to survive, streets and recesses overwrote history, millenniums over centuries, a year ran this dayman sunk in a network of arteries and veins. This land was once fashionable as a masif hotbed in a million colored lights. Like colored maps run the body, one extreme in another, expressed before put in words, waking existence led down, over topography, in labyrinths and lightning rods. Flash cones in eyes no longer of streets or sky, but eyes that connect ancient quarries and vaults, tunnels and caverns beneath. Artist talk, but not in words.Monongahela, Susquehanna,

I started plain folkin after it became unthinkable to be nominated for the new Eliade implant. To stamp the return in the brain, a sure way to invoke submission, reconstitute Alexanders of the unconscious in a jar. Too much? A riddle Job that Campbell implanted from Babylon? No kidding it will breach fancy. Pot Freudian myth, Jung archetype, pagan scenery, surrealist ability, dreamlike change, that’s it.

Colonization subjects lands, demolishes national boundaries. Go down in ships. Colonists of one mind considered water aqueous. Depopulation orders from the collective dictate a third force that continues again. Conflicts created to determine outcomes. Colonies themselves a desired synthesis spun to complication experiments. They knew dogs would salivate at a bell, but not that holes were cut in their cheeks to make them. Findings tainted with sodium made the beginning alters shape in any direction. Grave stones are  ethnic, not cut up in loads with a jackhammer.

 This is the place you go before you learn to escape. All try to get out of the city to the country, someplace where multitudes are not falling beside trucks in the roads. They allowed peasants in the master plan, peace and happiness for every man. Your reflection is in the other faces you pass, carrying as much as they can to the beyond. No need press faces, noses against window panes. No point describing the old Occidental hotel or warehouse or station of the mind where bestial turnings  of the century are the norm. He actually hears Gower's Voice of One Crying. The given name of the writer is John. Embuement in the dark covering light instead of details gets to the point of entrainment as if description were the difference between the smells and sound of crowds shuffling. Is he alone, an eye or ear that hears what none say? No passengers or refugees yet, before the fact, before the fall to put it. If you don't know  it hasn't happened yet. This means ignorance is acceptance, which explains the pocket Gower, filled with apprehension I shall sing of true dreams whose import disturbs the depths of my heart. May he whom the Isle of Patmos received in Apocalypse, and whose name I bear, guide this work.

There was a stranger who could see dementia, the fake heart flat eye stares, dressed up as a doll complete with finger rings, each finger thinking it lived freely.

 Annihilation powered by wish images to escape from the past, staccato extinctions of memory relocated to some remote spot until entirely forgot. It goes without saying this would be denied, overruled by the overridden who did as their peers said. The unconscious collective is sub aquean, but how can I belong to the world when I cannot belong to even the city of the submarine, old abandoned river beds forced to change course, kept in their walls; When the sixth angel loosed its vial the Euphrates dried for the invasion of the north, of Gog. Seine, Euphrates hardly broke out from substrate, thesis counter thesis stand, a reiver here, there a bend, not Colorado, damned as rusing down the salt sea, elaborate ambiguity that puts Hegel to the test.

Beds of rivers forced to change, 

Seine,Euphrates substrate bend,

 not Colorado, Thames.

 I am your sign. As I have done so shall it be to all, said the wheels. Kierkegaard asked for one favor for himself, laughter, and they all began to laugh. That's his telling. An apparent opposition between inner and outer makes its representation impossible when the effect of every vision is evident, full of eyes round about. To have laughter on one's side, native to the setting, was either all joke, humor of high and middle kinds, or elección. Yet shall he not see it. We won't know until the vote is in. To laugh seems hard wired on the foreheads of men that sigh and cry, as if they looked through a hole in the wall, to never say truth without a caveat, not Orphic ambiguity, but tease truth a season. The spirit rats have a hard time getting their tails out of truth.  What rats? For I know the things that come into your mind, every one of them. Call it humor because the first thing I read in Either/Or at the end of my own Diaspora, when I picked it up again after 40 years, was Kierkegaard's paragraph at end of the Diapsalmata about his audience with the gods in the seventh heaven. Never start at the beginning, just open at random and begin. Prepare stuff for removing. Dig through the wall. If you want in on this just laugh along.

Expansion of Sheol

Discensions in the alien colonies of gfovernment oppose ascension if it means differing opinion. Gfovernment for government, every sarcasm calls opposite what is said to invert. Binocular Polycarp looked through the wrong end, which the Paradox Police would prevent. Keep on working those giant Ponderoso gfovernment Monsantos. Their priests shed so much blood it was an inch thick where the goats were killed. Psych fishin’ in short supply, Bandler cut the fins off sharks. Buffalo Truffles took their sins for health with the karma of the shark.
You say you believe this, but entertain the patriot. Too bad. Entertainment figures ape Horus, eat jujube. Ho. Ho. When the hand of a beggar pulls the waters from your neck and SWAT teams bring in the new! How else talk?

Warn the cell Towers!

Warn the meltdown!

Sheol is bigger from reflux!

Man if you can read this you might weep the wheels they did when king Uzziah died. The door posts moved. Then came the call. Eyes were tied open, ears could not not hear: in hearing listen but you will not understand. Then came an epic expansion of sheol. New towers went up, to double the pot. Work continued to increase. You don't want to know who they were casting as idols of bats and moles in underground pits. Margaret Sanger's Lysol douche, bee and fly rock. Flies had already decamped da Bush. Assyria  gave America’s chance

ruffin raiment staind with blood,

Which he had spilt, and all to rags yrent.

This Queen’s "hinder parts painted cunningly" was collateral damage, built with cedar and tower in the gates of Senate and House. Secret parts escaped. Fear from the south, destruction from the north. The House of Pride in every breath of heaven shaked. Food supply, diverse as gfovernment, Lucifera ran her males as maiden queens. She pulled out seven sins, which wanted to expand to substitute our own. Why seven? Six unholies passed review before that lackey on the wagon beam. They pass in foggy mist enroute. Skull and Bones gone astray, how fitting if, iniquity.

The blind man and the elephant tell that monster, eat itself. Bizarre carnivores eat the house where they live, sir, air and sea, and then themselves feel round to core, stone heart, stone  jaw. There used to be two, one alive and parceled out in print, and one in wagons distributed. We do not call that acronym. Much is made that sometimes biped desiccated out, shed and blew up its shell. I mean exploding right in the mount. Ho, yes, the Oracle.

Shiloh in the Assyrian flood triggered events on the Capitol Mall. The point in an inferential seven years is that the third lasts until "the last," which assumes no warnings take. Behavior gets worse. Mass mind Opens. Forces bring out drones. Of this third event the fool will speak, no fear of being wrong in an inferential seven years. Psychoanalyze, defame those 66 hours of a screen week. “When the drones extinct memory from mass mind, do other forces manipulate behind?”

Be advised to go quietly. Swim into viscose veins to survive the war. Don't wait in Weimar for it to start, or hide under Dresden in a rocket. Bail out of Paris. All aboard. Hero you may be; gravity is our muse. The unreal upstart can't hear its own approach. Chemtrails  like ghosts flee the Judean fields. I know it is impossible to understand, but better to hear and know than to hear and deny. We stand before the roaring. Which sums the unconscious state to inhabit. Some beauty will maintain this is the best of all the worlds. More to the point is the one wrote facetiously, Do Not Deal with the Neptune Development Co. Hero Caligula stabbed the sea; Homer took out a full page in Laocoön, Daniel that the 4th beast up from the sea without borders was global. Which goats cast stars to ground and tramped them needs to be known. Canopean gentlemen who engineered the human set, alien giants who tutored the protohuman state, furthered by the government and genetic tinkers Pleiadian or not, latter day genetics made a bastard of the self, driven out to conduct symphonies in the case of fiction, solos and quartets exteriorized in a man on a raft, sent into verse below sea and earth, stripped of it by Death. Distinguish the stars from what Neptune says, that star gods conformed to a myth substitute for the One. The Fall of Jerusalem is not yet out,   The Book of Enoch had a Horse for our city. Ur fell by failure of the comic, entirely back.

Diverse Relation Negation

When the conquerors took control Burroughs and Stockhausen were imaginary nuns on this manga rock. State craft hired them part time. Burroughs was not prosecuted for shooting off his wife’s head. The Organ Capital donors kept him alive. They say in CIA that William “Tell” Burroughs was a handy man. Bill Tell said he was Bill Gas, whose skill at weapons measured by the guns and gats did not lack Gates. A gun in every room to hand, a gun in the belt, one under the chair, guns in the fridge, guns in condoms, guns in bread. Burroughs breathed fire Mammon, Saturn and Baal Peor at Lunch with metaphor. La O'Bomba called them the mass murderers of his watch, but beware the pudding of the lunch. Beware the pot calling. Woe to those their god controls. Lanza, Holmes, Loughner, choric vessels be. It's said that parrots retained Stockhausen for the stray sonar, static. How could that offend?  Accolades, burnished lips, two selves, one hidden under Stockhausen’s Burroughs alter. What if Gehry is submersible?  Do not defame the guns. Not to say that speak the truth. In birth canals two fight. The cotyledons of biology and psychology, twins merge, can’t decide. Coleridge, the  precog postman, built Kubla dome to smite the poles. A Capitol Dome Imperial Apotheosis?  As hard as that is to understand, their poems graffittied onto walks and walls contained this ampersand:

Imperial coffee houses debated how humanely to treat the sub race. Scales grew out of their arms, like tattoos. Contradiction was the bete noir of robots who could not overcome irrelevance, edited out as junk DNA. We say the word nicely. QED George kept copies of the Principia (PM) in his garage lest incompleteness come too close. What good would Principia be? One (to quote), identity of  diverse relation is the negation of identity. No problem. Nausea in the getaway. Centrifugal quantum spins. Superposition gravitational blur. Signs like heavy metal poisoning, sleeplessness, discoloration, dizziness. But 2), since relations are identical only when their converses are, the drone spray stopped. After election drones turned further up, so 3), every relation then had only one converse. It’s good to know. You don’t know what this is. Sounds paranoid otherwise. Ludwig rests his head. He made up a New Myth that went like this:

Orbis Tertius now is snow,

 new hearts and diamond bone.

Exchange bladders from a bridge

hung with the prophet Stockhausen.

Go in by the door and sign the register. This will prevent your subsiding into shells. Except everyone thinks themselves immune, and not just from buildings. Is it too much to say that when you enter a building your mind is changed?  Fashion, music, literature sure, but buildings exert no control. Mass hypnotism, programmed subliminals and a host of techniques. Balconies think their thoughts are their own on which the inhabitants of Saturn stroll the evening rings to get a breath of air. If  balconies what about gazebos? What portcullis of the house do you not get? Temples of science so long no one thought they were the Denver Airport. No one believes in the dragon, so its priesthood formed in museums. Marble labyrinth structure. Breasts grew in jars. Fish mutated to beans. OK, that’s exaggeration. When they came up from the beach colonists would kneel on the steps of the foyer and blow. After these devotions the building would appear. My Tower, My Tower, and the Flags of  Art: breasts grew in jars with mammograms, rabbits, with the heads of jellyfish glowed in the dark, all the better to see you with--GFP. And do not forget that lizards wagged tongues on earlobes, the outcome of DMT.  Fairy elves gave multidimensional sermons in twenty minute sessions against the Agnus Dei.

 Jealous to learn new DNA art, Starchitects put it up on stilts. Can't you just see a were- building mutating, continually becoming land masses and atmospheres and wolf weather? On the  plus side museums were giving away little transgenic e. coli pets. You take these home and put them in tanks. That however was before Turnspeak watchdogs of Critical Art exhibited their hybrids. Just what can't you invent, multi-legged 'humans'  half-human/octopi, reptile furry creats with hands like mouths, and a mixture of lizard-human eggs? Fishseals, birdmice could hardly be considered those. Several cages (and vats) of winged-humanoids 7 feet tall and reptoids nowadays.

Once you get that buildings think it is easy to imagine archaeometric organs that draw the eye with divine force. And oh yes, don't forget the liver! And the kidney! What organ cannot try? It's a matter of favorites. If some social outlaw evokes awe and childishness in the viewer, they are dwarves. But these are easy parts. True believers draw up force at the Gherkin Fish Museum, which compares with the Washington Monument. Symbols of  leviathan on land prepare for the final event. Level 7 has  row on row of mixtures in storage, embryo storage vats in various stages, and in cages, drugged or crazed. We were told they were high risk tests to cure insanity, and never to speak to them.

Genetic art bound the monster buildings, only seen as if undersea.  Brazil boys Mengele and Kac. Even the name of inventors mutated shape.

Blue Horses.

Vermillion sheep.

Architects were starchitects and became arthitects to contact their pod. Flowers turned glass, trees gold, frogs to armies of locusts, locusts to horses with lion mouths and scorpion tails. The Institute had everything, Ubermail for uberman and Ultraman without the Worm. That was one of their jokes in that time: whorm-hole! Fantasy mined landfills made immortal! Pretend the machine’s human! Old bio made new metal, gold refined from honeydew. You understand they were not plants. Not to leave good science out, the liberty to invent the body frog, cabbage parts, tomato hearts, brussel sprout eyes, porcelain teeth, diamond bones, gelatin eyelid monitors came all the way from Byzantium.

Description of a Dome

Folks worry the cadmium will get in their joints. Associate and be broken, take counsel and be broken, speak and be dismayed. They refuse the soft. The Speaker was removed amid shouts even his brother wouldn't bear. A flood of senate deities, fgov contracts with mag-lev trains. Black letters written in carbide flames in caves, names on walls. Children to play with moles and bats below the dome, blind cave fish in prison camp tours of statues by stalactite.

Quibblers disallow this as brick. The Westminster Coroner described it as a pit in a windowless basement where a human thigh bone sticks up in the air. Rest assured this  farce introduced cedar and stone to obscure the tinkling. Towers built to make the economy good, but toggle bunnies and video bats weakened at the top, were a mousetrap to catch the prey, engineered in advance. Mis visionarios, that thigh bone was the Queen  in her guise, first course of gfovernmently drones. Third Ilusa sobre los Cursos Apocalypsis.

A dungeon of bodies below the Capitol remained, the skull bone drilled, fgov by Pollock with a woman in the trunk. Aula Dei in Goya paint, scraped off, not all the parts made whole. Foxes Martyrs in the classic chest, water boarding at the Saturn Monument. Blood Presidents burned Milton in secret. Not one word here of Clanton, Bushinski or Le Bomb, brazier kings of  Pentagon. Against these harbingers

Huge Routs of People did about them band,

Shouting for Joy; and still before their way

A foggy Mist had covered all the Land;

And underneath their Feet, all scattered lay

Dead Skulls and Bones of Men, whose Life had gone astray.

When the war with Neptune was in Colossus  hands,

and members of herds were sold for what they’re not.

News men consented to invented terrorists.doc

but the gods just wanted a girl.

They never got their fill.

No-Adam in his test tube beaker, DNA,

with cryonic tanks of science to contradict

could hold good herds with a wife and children under sky in fields.

Scientific substitutes got new hearts, reprogrammed genes. In this new age epic came to save. Epic restored old life. That is why we are gathered here today, to restore what life the lions and wolves reserved. New myth means fear for the last phase war that hatched invitrio children fed to Moloch, if anybody knew, also handy for experiment. Buñuel had these guys cry out but no good angel was looking down. Each was summoned to live. We left this dark for power to speak the truth.

Lightning Strikes

It was overheard at the exhibits that new myth meant myths were never true, but new reality meant all myths were true. Diogenes said myth trapped Oedipus. True myth and false fact reversed particulates. Polymers followed. Endgame came. Icons filled. Who said the purpose is not destroy the past? Wrath Liberty, family, faith? Believers wash. To destroy the future as these destroyed the past, light up. Sounds a nightmare of prisonment, master assassins went down to blow up hundreds became ten thousand. Who could believe possible what science had saved for last? Who could believe forces greater than science controlled results? With one mind the conquerors of DNA held imperial control. At Base they debated how humanely to treat the subs. A man writing his life after death retells his fiction as much as he appeals to birth. Which should we believe, fiction or his facts? We cannot believe the facts. We will not.  “I knelt down on both knees. There was a series of lightning strikes.”


Among plane spotters each had a ration card. Duck and Cover prepared for apocalypse by getting under tables. It might come at any time. We did not like to be called Aristarchians because we practiced not looking up. The best preparation was mental and instant, prescient movement where ever we went. Colonists and colonies of earth were begotten of 500 mph storms, not apocalypse. Sweep the room, mark the exits, never sit with a back to the door, no questions, ready to escape. I told my teacher in first grade we had been bombed, where we spent five years until moved to another city, but the teacher said no, it wasn’t bombs, it was blackout curtains. The same Aristarchians smack of  fantasy after these incidents. To deny the brilliant blurs under the dome, whose fusion made living as opposite of moon people as moles, there is a Countdown starting. Despite the ruse I don’t make it up, just report. We were colonists in electrosmog. About earth thee ragged immortals deposit their checks and take a hundred pills to transplant their bodies into pigs. The prophet is a fool and the spiritual man mad. Consciousness is as much a threat as the bomb. Apocalypse children divert everything of sense. It justifies their pain, evangelions against angels, the otaku childhood of old age,  raised in the shadow of the Day.

Wearing of the Word shows what people talk about in escaped shadows of light that ride  back of these torrents, we wrestled from singing rhythm an image of  the word itself. Crustacean maudhelm talks of sea legs and hard coat, soft viscera and all; these beings are not diamond coats, ho, ho, or pure spirit, but you know. One if by land, two if by sea. Of course to plumb these amphibian worlds our Jonah was some kind of clam failed to open, which nourished the opposites one feels between. Citizens ask advice only when they don’t need it, and do not take it when they do. Offer will induce a pout, despair.

O I too fear the fickle Freaks, the monarch stars of Oz that entertainment gives. Gfovernment replaced the larger senate deities. All the bosses were criminals. All club networks served gfovernment, collective mind, artificial intelligence. The  ET ruse was the same, to dwarf by size and number the mouse, but not to tell in words. This philosophy baits a subtle grasp, simple-minded, so nothing else need be said.

the bricks that fell, rebuilt with stone and steel,

the sycamore cut, replanted with tall cedar.

“If adversaries step up, enemies join against. Syrians before, Philistines behind; we shall swallow them with open mouth." The Syrians! It got worse. The Russians, Chinese, Iranians, Iraqis, al Qaeda, God. Jerusalem Washington was on the  rocks.

His drunken Corse he scarce upholden can;

In Shape and Life, more like a Monster than a Man.

"All that say in pride and haughtiness of heart,

the bricks are fallen down, we will rebuild with stone:

the sycamore figs are cut, we will replace with cedar,

shall have adversaries set up,

enemies joined together; Syrians before, Philistines behind;

and they shall swallow them with open mouth."

Is anybody home?  Fantasy turns real they said. The Sycamore that sheltered cliffs, its roots bronzed and stump memorial, the empty place that filled a hole:  "I think nothing human alien to me,” is why the unconscious camps stood beside the sea. Their Representatives translated commercials of snow bird and elk, poets of dictation, as if to say simple speech transfigured the originary. One good thing, the individual did not countenance the “forces” of the war works: 1) we do not acknowledge the collective, 2) we think we are autonomous 3) our minds are our own.

To name the stone and metal whirling, the ineffable, not just ups and downs, of which winter is in jeopardy, and snow, the lightning phrase the fire reproduced: after reverses and contradictions, ignorant of alternatives that would have been, who among us could dwell in the devouring fire? Who among us is diaphanous? Aspirants to fire in a world without shape and time live praise, sparing the bones, the epigrams washed ashore. Does it come clear if we regard parchment in such short supply, bleached or not, overwritten in a different ink, "new writing," may be only lists of things, ilusas on top of ancient texts, in preparation for our wearing? The Word is a living scroll within. Literal handwritten boxes bound on head and hand, lists imposed on top retold over centuries, retold in the night, of we ourselves in the Word that underlies and surrounds what is said, a coat to give away that transfers its cover in what you're going to say, that you've been praying all these years to have, that we have heard, beauty and sorrow for the sins of our sons and the salvation of the world. I am your devoted.

The reason we live in cities and not towns isn't because of the libraries, but because nobody knows us and we want it that way. The whole structure of town, lifelong with people we grew up with we avoid. We are all in flight from them, emigres to the unknown, into anonymity if not pseudonymity. But if we did so live our memories are full of the towns, bully. Going back to a small town is like returning to a war, all ptsd, people who compromised the soul. See Nebraska. Of what use is line breeding or any breeding in a belief system where the individual must rediscover the premises and commit to them alone, apart from history, society, even family. There are blessings that accrue to the child of a family of faith of all kinds, but they do not substitute for faith. Baptism does not save nor any outer act. That is the bane and blessing of all lines. Most of the descendents of David in the royal line betrayed his premises and the premises in which his people flourished. So among the chosen there is the greatest betrayal.

The golden age takes from Messianism the reinstitution of every original thing, the return of all things to their original. This is accompanied with nostalgia and affinity for traditional peasant communities which especially appeal in a time when celebrity interprets reality universally. The state, the strip mall of the world with its anchor stores, China, India, Merica thinks to project its gain of market share to bring the ideal world to profit, which is as much a sham as that utopia is a secular humanist dream. Harry Levin and anthropologists tof the noble savage myth were never aware it is was a messianic restoration and a Zionist apocalypse. The new order has elements of the old, of the past, but they are transformed. In the re-establishment of the past ideal state, Zion, a radical new state is formed that never existed before, New Jerusalem. Ancient Judaism  was revolutionary when it posited a world and an earth history destined to be replaced by  Messiah. One can emphasize the overthrow of the old political and social in this revolution or the establishment of the new, which accounts for alternate flags of satire and lyrical romanticism it flies under. No wonder then the similarity of radical anarchisms with chiliasm, utopian with millennial consciousness. That zen forces and spiritual guides think to establish an unconscious  grid and make a collective Messiah shows the lengths  to which the  the historical fights against the new order. It is so easy for me to see that rational utopia, the evolving social state opposes the revolutionary apocalypse of Messiah, that there is no progress in history leading to redemption, only a transcendent breaking in. Colossal uprooting, total destruction of existing order don't make a lot of friends among a society constantly benefiting from that order. That they do not see the need is obvious. Don't rock the boat, even if it comes to totally eliminating the microbiologists. Further it comforts that Messiah comes only when the world has prepared itself with utter corruption, boasts of singularity, mutation, superman. But as it is a past and a transformed past, redemption is both historical, public, and private, personal, a spiritual process and inward transformation as well as a visible event in the world.

I lived on this planet myself those years of forced synthesis, slept out at Dulce port naked, washed  in cold water among parrots. Families who lived under the platino shades higher up picked mountain coffee and spread the picked beans over the highway like a beach. I spoke their dialect of Suffering. One Sunday a dozen infirm black ladies were saved. On the opposite coast after buckets with mangoes we constantly burgled Colonist’s houses. Imagine, stealing from a colonist! The winds blew through their decks on stilts. A lot of them were refugees from the dissension alien colonies. New Gfovernment for old, every apostate paradise its last wish. Anocular polyopy dreams that when virus breaks over transplanted lilies and prevents concentration, when delirium turns the lights out, and fingers linger on the wrong keys, joints of the flesh, skin can’t be touched, they will come from fissures to our encampments by the sea. They press the fingers together and vow to "build the one."  

If you live well toward unknowing, people who can't touch electricity, doubts against Idaho, Utah, Nevada, and  Great Basin will remain. Ohio however must go. Dry earth moved the mountains. Windows lit up Scandinavia's heaven. Whether any of it did any good, one neighbor apologized the same as Jonah, "will I have eyes at the bottom of the sea, supposing I descend there on endless stairs where future things swim in empty outlines of skeletons?" The Known remain. They pick children up by the heels in school, then wash away. 

Many riders were nauseous from the quantum superposition sprayed each night in the transfer. Sleeplessness, discoloration, dizziness, symptoms of heavy metal poisoning. Sleepers entranced, relations only identical when their converses are. Not too much to say they turned up the drones. With the elections, up went the waves. Every relation of converse changed. The agenda was a distant binary. Unsure what cameras felt, written notes, tapes,  hidden records, insisting on none but memory,  two sources forced criminals against children, which adults disbelieve in silence. The city-nation absorbed in air part of the empire anestheticide. Long before Rome puzzled to attach the child, nature, in each case an octave lower than the globe-exaggerated nemesis, replaced the Nazi for no reason other than a terrible dream where some catastrophe takes place in front of the eyes they are unable to prevent.  NO SHOUT to wake THE WORLD from its lebensraum.  Biological frontiers switched with spiritual damnation the Possessed and nightmares. Art prophesied. Weimar hung a Going Out of Business sign over the world.

French Camp

Perhaps some will say, how dost thou know  a road which thou hast not traveled full length--to which I say that we can see a road pretty correctly a considerable distance before us, and if we could not see before us at all, we should be stumbling almost at every step. (v).

Some colonists called it French camp. German would be better for the invasion of its intimacy. A a whole train out of Europe colonizing the globe. The side yards of Idaho flooded all the way down to the Marfa flats. A lot of lucky beasts down from sky, like a Buddha brain which began all those fables we'd rather not think about, attracting the *demarcolonists. Where are they going? Where else but French camp? Wind socks blowing through double strands along tracks, executive orders, camp residential centers!  Anubis on guard. Pandemics no excuse! High conscious gods and men along side Sir Thomas on London Bridge. French camp around the city went by truck to Dubuque wrapped end to end with iron as befits the parts, which, when the whole back fell, were exposed. Sliding doors on the side or at least marks where sliding doors and windows would have been made it look grumpy. A team reassembled the parts with clamps and glue. Humphrey back on his wheels looked a wreck with a broken back, a Le Corbusier.  Everybody knows hermetically sealed only adds to the effect. Not to worry. Reconstitute, reconstitute! That's the  parlance where some catapult  takes place in front of the eyes.  Biosraum! AWOKE.

*also demarcologists, de mar, that is profession of the sea

What fate  better anyway than a passenger pigeon on Mural 2 ratified by Congreve as much as Greada which bought iphones to the world? Can you believe it was to have taken only French citizens? When did co-signers keep their word? Amicus White Father (AWF) promised glands. Why did Ansel Adams ignore migrants? Why did Borges ignore Disappeareds? Why does the moon ignore the sun? Stats suggest missing persons increased sixfold in 25 years, to 900,000 a year, of which 850,000 were juvenilios. Illegals endowed to Minnosota Mining of the Middle Complex. (Kidnapping For Scientific Betterment) had silver linings in the Cars which revived the Boxcar Fund, saved Big Steel, seats for millions hauled, 100,000 boxcars in all, good for shares of les Petits-Gris  Archuleta, meaning *Eisenaliens, or iron ore if such neolog appears.  Years later in fiction, highly allergenic to ammonia, these would die from it (here), the worst part of mythical horrors concocted below.

 Regeneration, at least in its commencement, is a work of the mind, and when it first takes place, it has the lusts of the flesh, yea, all the evil inclinations to war against; and even ignorance itself, together with the temptations and allurements from without.

Down at the dock we get in and  drift from shore. After a while the evening news, the weather is unfamiliar. The way things go, none believable, the land itself is fabrication. Our boat moves further, carries to the outreach of history to salvage what has been seen before in the aquarium humane, submerging ruins interspersed with dreams, voyages made strange and vivid, optics of waking slumber, dreams, unconscious written from the ground in the psychoanalysis of prophecy.

 Whoever passes these coliseums in their corporate homes and hears  wings thundering, chariot breastplates breathing iron, should not think martyrs only lift the veil. Sir Stephen said, “when you worship Saturn you take a portable Moloch to carry around its gods” (Post-Weimar). Trade the Spender, Schneider, Mandarin, European, Pleidian for cheap refrigerators, cheap gas? Maquiadores inoculate against the bones of the altered. Talk about government waste, the body underwent quadruple expansion. Fusion Centers, post offices,  generic buildings with physical locations disappeared. Which is getting somewhat ahead. Whole new “implantation techniques” elaborated the melancholy Adam Smith which we are at pains to elucidate, "if he was to lose his little finger to-morrow, would not sleep at all that night, but provided he never saw them, could snore with the most utmost security over a hundred million of his brethren ruined, which destruction of that immense would seem less interesting than this paltry misfortune of his own." (Theory of Moral Sentiments). But that was before weaponization. Adam Smith suffering at distant time and space did not  code for Mandarin adrenals getting Rocky Mountain ET high. The Underground Cities and Residential Centers were silent on this, a caveat welcome in midnight airports proving  the toy of Saturn is not a rocket, but animated by its cargo within. Whichever of these colonial mysteries along the Archuleta Fault asembled above the 129 Bases in the Ten Sectors, Yod He, Sir Stephen on Weimar is our best chance to comprehend. As to the involvement of Orion or Sirius downtown, the falun gong tracers of these implantation techniques are actively searching for people who can foresee the future, DNA specific.The big call recorded in "Tussaud! the Musical" was,  “are you ready? Are your life forms prepared to receive those definitions that will terminate their larval existence?”].  Doctor Joseph-Ignace Guillotin took off his cloak, fastidious Mengele. To be or not to be the gods was cool. Contradiction states that the way opened was now clear for sleeping millions and billions of human seed and illumined stem cells to fuel destiny for  animals, plants and earth.

  If the object in writing this was to  gain the applause of men; thus to presume, so disappointed, such fiction  written as some will not readily receive, however, on the other hand, having for a considerable time had pretty much the same ideas of the matter as you will find written down in this work, if you want to know, a train yard of boxcars full of Chinese guillotines being stored at US Military Bases - keep the engine running - I won’t be a minute.