so2 – rhizomatic architecture

i hate poems.
i want to rip their delicious words
foot from tender foot & dont forget
their pretentious line breaks
their dramatic pauses;
with their rotten semi-colons.

i hate lyricism.
with the way words make you feel
with their senseless rambling
to slither down the inside of your skull
with their assault on reason and good taste
a hierarchy to some mystical pose the
grand larceny of emotion.

drives your senses dull and duller
insensate to the world around you

poems can make you wonder at the glory
of a man fed alive to pigs in a soviet work camp
or of the wonder of pin after pin
lovingly slid into tendon and flesh.
so it’s a statement about identity
culture
and abandonment.

don’t forget the words the dead have written
making wussy boys wussier &
seducing sensitive women to lie in bed with ghosts
reading themselves blind after hours
we all need glasses, we of stupid vision
so easily hypotized

it is better to be a dog or a wolf
to lie senseless in mud and snow
to hunt, run and fuck
eat grass & get drunk on the wind
climb rocks & see things no one has seen

better than trapping your forehead
in the bindings of things from shelley’s frankenstein
or william wordsworth who lay under a tree watching
farm hands work
writing about grass and hills
& english peace.

BAH

"Good evening, class" the straight
laced prof for whom we can see no
eyes.  Only round ovals of his
glasses.  We sat in our chairs and
as he came in, he wrote his name
on the board.  "This is class is
a G.R.E. requirement.  It is PSY105
an experimental class on DEATHTRAPS
You will notice that there are seat
belts in the chairs.  Please strap
them on."  With that, having us
done so, we could not get them off
at ever again.

In our panic the prof revealed to
us a series of different devices
toys, machines, he said, to sort,
to assemble, to reconfigure, for
the provoking, the pleasure and
exceeding the limits beyond what
we might concieve of, as possible
ways in which to live, survive,
will, in which our bodies are our
instruments.  You will understand,
he began strapping one eye of one
student open, leaned back, arms
strained, that there are alternate
ways of living.  You will find
that there are levels of survival
you are more than willing to
descend to.  That only in the fore
most of human bondage that a
greater focus can be attained, a
more delicious pleasure imaginable.

And he revealed to us the multitude
of wounds, scars, cuts, lacerations
chains wrapped from nipple to
nipple under his coat, the missing
teeth, the nonfunctional eyeball
deformed genitals -- all trophies
he claimed, over the masses of
groans and screams and sighs.  Each
of these is a specimen, a testiment
to the formidable interest that is
a body.  Are not bodies
interesting?  You can break them
bend them and they still survive.
Pain is a state of mind.  It is not
a matter of just cataloging the
instensities hidding within our
selves, but also the underlying
bareness of a soul.

With that began a long lesson.
Not just in the intensities of
a single moment but over the
stretch of hours, days, and
lifetimes.  What made this class
experimental is that the goal of
each student is individual there
are no grades, only a pass or fail.

We all start as zeros.

A passing grade,
   the ultimate escape.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

D   E   A   T   H   T   R    A   P

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

batman in chains
betty boop crying in bed
a damsel tied before a train
a mouse getting cheese
man vs wild
bear steps into jaws, a beartrap
bikini roadkill
texas chainsaw massacer 3
hostel
superman bound to a krytonite rock
floating in space
basic instinct
james bond before a diamond laser
three layers of teeth
an open shark's mouth
smashed beyond recognition
cars
plane crash
shell shock
soliders in rows and rows their arms extended their rifles against their chests
torn apart by pigs
dogs of war
suffocated by locked cars
cyrogeneic freeze
electrocuted by a telephone
sucked into a jet engine
left handed people die quicker
alcohol poisoning
drowning in a lake of fire
boston strangler
twin towers
falling off a ladder
downed by a frying pan
zombies
shotgun blast to the back of the head
rotten apples
cockroaches in the bedroom
rusted toilet seats
adolf hitler
jack the ripper
a hole too big to climb out of
walking down the street
music too loud the eardrums bleed people faint the heart explodes
capital punishment
drunk driving
dismembered by a samurai sword
peeled like a fish
fire extinguisher exploded
e
paint chips on the window sill
leech in the swimming hole
mud foot prints
internal bleeding
sleep deprivation
operating heavy machinery
whiskey stupor
broken bungee
unfunctional parachute
angry dad
rape gang of poodles
dull brick
axe
atom bomb
stabbed
inverted crucifition
roasted in a bronze bull
cement shoes
quartered
horse fucking
hanging
lightning
thrown by a tornado
crushed by a bus
suffocated with a pillow
digestive problems
rusted spike
a bomb
mutation
blood poisoning
trampled by bulls so frightened they are blind running into walls, smashing their skulls against granite
dehydration
buried in a sand storm
time bomb
life sentence
lethal injection
good bad and the ugly
8 million ways to die
fatal hilarity
game shows
red kyryptonite
frost
head injury
foul stench of contaminated tomb air
suicide
exploding chest
falling book case
gravity sickness
nitrogen poisoning
magical implosion
event horizon
piano wire
looking at medusa
death ray
prometheus unbound
crashing into the sun
dark side of the moon
rusting away
falling into lava
locked in an asylum
unholy water
stabbed with a violin bow
stagulation
unsuccessful teleportation
critical mass
imploding submarine
russian rolette
acid burn
radiation poisoning
cancer
surfboard to the head
wooden stake to the heart
jungle fever; malaria
drove off a cliff
shot at high noon
cannibalism
eye implement
decapitation
acid bath
locked door
chained to a bed
bad acid trips
jumped before a moving vehicle
earthquake
endless desert
death valley
sibera
the vastness of space
stranded on pluto
damsel tied to train tracks
princess zelda
tied in a boiling pot
eaten dead
or eaten alive
makes no difference
a rock and a hard place
exposed to the elements
out of the frying pan; into the fire

A CATALOGUE of feelings;

the indescribable rush of
exhiliration, the abuse of breath
and what of god gave you
the jump to know you are on the border to see here, and there
instantly you realize, it's the thrill only when you escape and unbeholden to an iron prison
water rising, your head to the last instant that small glint of air
with your nose pressed to the ceiling, your arms and legs waving
water entering your mouth, the porches of your ears
inbetween your eyeballs death
inbetween your toes death
your hands treading water death
the crink in your neck going worse and worse death
you try to drown yourself but it won't happen you want to live too badly
you swim up and down and around looking for a loose brick, something to let out the water
let in the air stop the drowning box from taking you under you swim back to the ceiling
tilt your head against the ceiling death
trapped against the ceiling and the water bouyant death
one nostril grasping for air it's not enough
your body cannot survive
sacrifice your arms your legs
i need air your brain needs air
need need need death

slow starvation in a cave the boulder in the way
eating your friends
eating yourself
eating dirt
ashes, the carbon to save off the pain
the carbonite ash from fire eats at your stomach lining
if only you could digest wood.  so many hydrocarbons in there, it burns so sweetly
but you cannot eat it your teeth bleed
bite off your fingers and toes
filling your stomach with oxygen with air
you cannot be hungry
you drink all your water and piss it away to fill your belly
drown yourself youre still hungry but so full of water
till you lie on the floor and succumb to gravity
even your breathing takes so much
and then if not for despair you gain the euphoria of monks
visions of your childhood
your lovers
the ground is as satin sheets on your back
the sand runs, a river through your fingers
your body slowly sinks into the earth
its naked flesh melting into the rock and silt
you are in the sky now
the salamites like pencil tips
drawing themselves on your boney rib cage
playing against the sound of your breath, a xylophone
your rasping a saw on your ear
the wind tears at your cold toes and it enters in through your pant legs
wraps its little pinkie on your leg across your anus and up your back
you are so light it lifts you up momentarily
in starvation your brain never loses any of its fat.
it burns off all its neurochemicals however and you can no longer see
you ground your teeth off against rocks days ago
licked the floors until your tongue was raw
the curse of humans to eat their animals sisters and brothers their plant friends
eat the planet away you lose yourself in that feeling
until you aren't hungry anymore
just so tired
tired
death is a cold place where you can feel warm

wake up 6am
drive to work 8am
coffee break 1030am
lunch1pm
resumework2pm
coffeebreak 3:30pm
leave work5pm
get home730pm
eat frozen food8pm
tv9pm
shower and bed11pm
just waiting to die

can't pay your mortgage
can't pay your car
tell yourself it's the little things that matter
saturdays you see a movie with a pal you haven't seen in months
share a beer on friday with the locals at the bar
guys like you but
maybe with a wife and kids
fly home to your parents on xmas
see your brother's family
can't find a better job
hate your boss but he's funny
passed up for a promotion again
don't want to be a manager anyway
easter is another day eating alone
our dog died last year and you hadn't got another
because it's too painful when he just dies for no reason
no matter how much money you dropped that you didn't have
you gave away everything except the dog dish
with his name, bucko
you quit going to the bar
you couldn't handle drinking alone
you drink in your room instead sometimes to
wake to the alarm in your room
when you're still prone on your couch
smelling of bourbon
and congac.
drift a few dollars here and there into a fund
can't retire until youre 70
getting fired would be awful
but secretly, it's a blessing for you to be able to do
what you cannot do for yourself
you are not laid off
you buy a book and never finish it
you bring gifts to your brother's kids
he and his wife insist you should get married
you wouldn't know who
the day you retire
you pass it by
youre 75 and they don't give you work
they force you to leave
youve got nothing else to do
you go fishing sometimes
take a tour you can't afford
of china
europe for 2 months
talk with your tour companions
eat strange food
get drunk with guys you don't like
go to india for a month
japan
vietnam
france
you reverse mortgage your home
you go to siberia
see places most humans would never see
ride a yak in a tour of eleven people
the only humans for 200 miles
where the train tracks had stopped
in the summer fields of flowers, rolling hills
you wonder if your tourguide would kill you all
take your stuff and leave you
you break your leg falling off your animal
it is wrapped in a splint and you can't move without anyone
a freak snowstorm in early august
your party is in the side of a hill for 3 days in a cave
one of the animals die
you all eat it
it is tough and smells funny
your tour guide goes for help with three other people, looking for a place where the radio would work
they don't return for 1 week
after the 9th day you wake up and you're alone
you think they will all come back
it is a beautiful august morning and the snow is melting
the sun goes down
it comes back up
you think it is september now
you still can't walk
you've never seen flowers like these before
the tour guide says they are poisonous
you eat one
nothing happens
then for a while,
nothing some more

the last resort
aresnic filled tooth
crying babies cannot help but understand
someone come save me
alone, i am
helpless.
someone,
we are abandoned
our skin blistering
our nerves frayed
go directly to jail do not stop do not collect 200$
go directly to hell
one way ticket
 bite it
  take a dirt nap
   meet the reaper
    flatline
     for whom the bell tolls
      get your halo
       cooking for the Kennedys
        take the last count
         meet one's maker
          bite the biscuit
           give up the ghost
            go home feet first
             picking up your harp
              coiled up his ropes
               croaked
                river styx
                 crossing the river
                  in the sweet hereafter
                   journey's end
                    kick the bucket
                     singing with the angels
                      six feet under
                       join one's ancestors
                        mailed in his warranty card
                         gibbed
                          meet one's maker
                           pushing up daisies retroactive abortion
                            gone to the big glass house in the sky
                             go the way of all flesh
                              hand in one's chips
                               off the record
                                on one's last legs
                                 left the building
                                  deleted from the BOM
                                   join the angels
                                    sleep with the fishes
                                     visiting Davy Jones' locker
                                      disassemble
                                       feed the fishes
                                        go to one's just reward
                                         go west
                                          cash in your chips
                                           hang up your tack
                                            toasted
                                             Abraham's bosom
                                              snuff it
                                               sowing the Elysian Fields
                                                beamed up
                                                 debt we all must pay
                                                  cached in his chips
                                                   go home in a box
                                                    bought the farm
                                                     on the road to nowhere
                                                      passed on
                                                       pay the piper
                                                        deanimate
                                                         collapsed his/her outline
                                                          shed the mortal coil
                                                           kick the can
                                                            knocked off
                                                             walked the plank
                                                              bought his lunch
                                                               disincorporate
                                                                donating the liver paté
                                                                 done like dinner
                                                                  end of the line
                                                                   fade away
                                                                    the big sleep
                                                                     an awfully big adventure
                                                                      condition non-conducive to life
                                                                       bought a pine condo
                                                                        cashed in
                                                                         big jump
                                                                          at the end of one's rope
                                                                           answer the last call
                                                                            breathe one's last
                                                                             ride the lightning
 of us all,                                                                   checked out
            i am    the living dead                                            cashed out
    in the long run,                                                            bless the world with one's heels
                     we all leave                                                bosom of the Father and his God
but in a death trap                                                               crown of life
            i confront my existentialism                                           curtains
                     up close and personal                                          dance on air
                                                                                     bite the big one
       no way out                                                                     awake to life immortal
                  i am the living dead                                                 pull the plug
                                                                                        bite the dust
                                                                                         number's up
               and i know it                                                              immortally challenged
                                                                                           cross the Great Divide
                                                                                            wacked

loaf
lo-
  af

luf

LOAF, the lovely oaf sat on his bed, smoking weed
drinking beer
tastes like beef spit and it was mostly,
because loaf was so much lazy he didnt chew his food much either
large man.  sagging couch.  young man.

loaf's mother went out to work telling him, go get a job! with much spite.

loaf waved one hand, the back of it serene and hairy.  crumb infested.  love you, mom he said.

the tv went out that day, because cable was broken.  loaf swore and got his phone
called up his stoner buddy.  dude the tv is not working.  yeah.  can you come and fix this? no
mine's broken too.  shit

loaf went up to his room and lay on his bed.  soggy with spilt bread bits, dripped cheese nasty
socks and who knows what.  he couldn't sleep.  wasn't sleepy.  he needed to get some weed. call
his friend and no answer. loaf watched the trees outside swaying.  a small bird sat on a branch
calling out, its hormonal frustrations in nasty high pitched rhythms.  loaf's little slutty sis
yelled that she was taking the car. no loaf said, hobbling out. i need it. (to get weed... beer
maybe?) but she was gone. he watched her skanky butt bob into the car and it drove off, speaker
pumping.

loaf went outside and put his hand up to his eye.  to hide eyes with his fat forearm.  some kid
and his buddies played soccer. the ball rolled to loaf and loaf picked it up, tossed it back to
them. he walked down the street, deciding to go to the park.  he played there younger

loaf passed by market street where loaves of bread sat in their heat.  he eyed some women strut
but didn't say anything.  if you don't have a sense of humor, loaf said...

the river went under a bridge. and he used to sit here, throw rocks. he had his first kiss here
and though the place looked the same, he didnt need to see his reflection to know things werent

the factory across the river had long stopped pumping black puffy smoke.  loaf felt nostaligic;
he reached for a stoogie and came up empty. he layed back in the humid grass to watch the blue.
before falling asleep, thinking that even if he was out of breath, without weed, without any tv
life could not get any better.

loaf
silly man
unabased with his somatic pleasures
sometimes yelling at his mom to go away when she pounds on the bathroom door
i know what you're doing in there
fuck you mom

loaf
full of love
his pudgy hands an old musty nintendo controller.  explaining the game to his bored
younger cousins. then beating them at their own fighting game on the newer psp3 and
they roll their eyes at him.  you're so boring, they tell him. his cue to toss back
another beer

loaf
let me show you how to get the secret item, he says
so stoned he forgets to eat.  and the carls jr his friend got him
sits by him, until tomorrow.  it's still good, he decides when he
wakes.  and he eats it

oh loaf
he would bunker at his friends house to try and learn to fix cars
when his mom throws him out.  and greasey under nails goes to the
diner down the street to laugh with the local ditz waitress later
on, to ask her to a date and she goes.  a month later, she breaks
his heart; she had so much fun.  but she realizes that she cannot
stay. she must go back to her husband and her son. they found her
and they want her back still; after all she's done...

loaf doesnt go to work for a while
and his friend threatens to throw him out of their place.  so he
shows up slow and still fixes cars.  rubbing his greasy hands on
a greasy rag, before eating lunch, or punching the cash register
as if that fixes anything. loaf stays late and so does his buddy
but the business goes down, his friend claims that loaf was rude
but the books say that his friend stole money for cocaine, maybe
loaf didnt care about cocaine, but look at that. and the day, it
comes.

loaf goes out of the apartment when the sherrif knocks.  even if
before he would just lay on the bed, with dirty sheets over head
and this time, when his friend was out, getting more coke, steal
if he had to.  loaf lets the sherrif enter, and he says, i don't
want any of this stuff. leaves his old video games, porn mags he
can't get the grease out from under the nails.  walks the street
wondering where to go. his sister long since arrested or perhaps
in another state (of being?)... he sits at that bridge once more
this time, looking into the water, but it's just green moss that
he sees.

remembers what he said watching women 
he lusted for, that he might approach
still feeling they wouldnt appreciate
his desire. about having a sense of humor... realizes he's just
gotten fatter, even when working more and more. watching trains
rumble by track
track
track
one after the other.  he doesnt even know his mom's number.  he
just throws a few rocks into the river. lays in the grass watch
the birds play.  sees the trees sway
thinks to himself before drifts away
could life get any better?

loaf.

  lo-
    af

loaf.
the name known to bums across wichita
they talk about him, between alleyways
rocking out to garage indie bands
sometimes out of tune
always out and aggressive

his teachings across the midwest
where the grass is so green
and the sky so blue.  you'd
think every horizon a postcard

little barn houses, small fences
every other street is a US highway

sprayed across concrete bricks in new york
in red yellow and blue

loaf was here
     the smiling faces in skidrow
where every other homeless is a child
skin so black. faces and bodies so thin
loaf now with a beard, like santa claus
maybe
only shabbier, with a dirty flannel blanket
some old lady gave him one morning when he stood shivering
the first person he touched
loaf
still clumsy, throwing soccer balls to children
throwing rocks into the river
watching the train go by

everything is deep.  everything is fine
loaf thinks he sees the long ghost of rumi
and schiller together in a late night 99 cents store
in brooklyn

he follows them, touching the products they touch
leaving behind a trail of finger prints
no one stops him
his expression estactic.  his feet are blistered
and bleeding a little.  he says to walk naked with the earth
you wouldn't wear gloves to hold your mother's hand, he says.

he thinks they part ways in the feminine hygeine section
but they do not
he follows them out and they are gone

once again in the snow he is shivering.
gives his blanket to a lost boy.  takes the boy to the police
the police keep him for questioning

when the tramuatized parents arrive the boy is grinning
shows his parents the dirty blanket proudly
the police show the parents an empty cell

they turn to the child, 
he astonished, has no blanket

who organizes the homeless to sing carols during xmas
who brings the runaways back home
    or leads the police to domestic disputes
who leaves a trail of flowers in snow
    a shape of foot prints
brings a distraught mother back home
finds his sister when she survived a car crash

my in dreams it's still the same
loaf breaks himself a piece off,
offers it as flesh
  but never himself so endless
  a name for bread
  of every language
  sustanence do we
  get it when we need it
  do we find it
  when we look?

  it is prevailent in all things
  an undercurrent always present
  buried too easily in loud trauma
  when we most easily lose equilibrium
  the imbalance of noise
  topsy turvy
  and when we need most the quietude 
  available if you are the utmost
  receptive to it
  always there
  like the sky
expansive, 
open
overcoating