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& when she ate she managed her hands clumsily

8/30/2012

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 / but in la cama qué cochina

 measure of wisdom: Dr Proust “w/ that touching prescience latent in women who love the

“male body so

“intensely that they immediately guess what will give most pleasure to that body

“which is yet

 “different from their own”

                       

            & Dr Chorizo sez “Hellz Yeah.  Hijo de la ching-ching 

“punto”

chingwow /

& from radiowaves scratchy bass / synthesizer

“. . . tanqueray & chronic yeah I’m fuck’d up now . . .”

& this sign in neon:

SEXO—VIGOR Y PLACER

¿falta de ereccion?  ¿no tiene eyaculacion?

EL FUER’E ERRRRRECCIÓN

            puesssssss

GRAN PENIS : EL MIEMBRO

& from there to another stall & from radiowaves:

“te dijeron ya hay . . .

            “voy a llevar mi chamaca

 

“y rocanrolear

“pues yo quiero

           

“estar con ella a todo

             

“dar a dijeron ya hay buen

“rocanrol ESTA NOCHE”

& arm in arm elbows akimbo La Pelona sd eso sobre Chaley & his living days w/ Xochitl

   before she murdered him /

turning to him now as they walked those stalls of hell’s mercado:

“Look at his eyes—adorable / & a way of lookin at women—ye can feel he must love “them”

cierto

however w/ ye Chales en chinga everything’s always

charming whether what ye wear / what ye say / what

ye read / or what ye do

& to turn ye insideout back home desert deserted[1]

heart turning to stone & hot wind

& eyes learnin

                       

            “believe ye me” C sd to La Pelona

            “believe I ye” La Pelona sd to Chaley dancing as she tapped her hooves

now we well cd all talk here

                        we cd whine ¿but why?

for always when strollin w/ Death it’s good to straighten

oneself / remarking on living one’s life fully

as possible / as variously as possible / & that Chaley

had several designs on Death from their first saunters

around McTlán’s wide avenues / when first she vomited darkbeer

directly on his shoes . . .

& to La Pelona—singer from Chaley’s heart--

strewn fragrant songs for ye Baldy . . .

carved for ye . . .

painted for ye . . .

& Chaley those words fall as drops of rain—soft--

exquisitely stained narcosis

“listen: an outbreak of ethnic fever—kiss me / Amurka

“I’m ethnically ambiguous

“& constructing a mass espirtual plan--

“for AZtlán / for Heela River valleys

“& nice identity crises—of inventions

“of MexMurkas--

“romanticized cultural legacies--

“& histories—suiting natural cultural needs—”

see Chaley cd perceive oppression

intellectually—had never directly experienced

as much as say Los Panchos

but Chaley didn’t want to be a ven-didi-dido . . .

like a Tío Pancho esp

—as these Chickenos gradually began

lighting candles to Sr Chavez & his first

brown handholding wall of minutemen

later adopted by scared whitefolks

down near tombstone / w/ walkietalkies

& wetterbottles / newspapers coffee

lawnchairs / & maps & lots of time

to wait for . . . well ye know who

                        see that wetline

Sr Chavez’s wetline / Oct 1974 / AZtlán / Snornora [sic] borderlands

UFW / humanshield browndeep / they stood

shoulder to shoulder to block folks who shared

surnames from common ancestors across

all different sorts of frontiers into Al Norte & Death

“stop here” sd La Pelona / ¿this stall?

“¿what do they sell here?”

“pomes / pennyeach”

“no manches”

“¿what?”

“nice / muy nice” read:

sent for family—“¡they just trash!”

but they all draw more welfare cash /

everything is mucho good--

 

soon we’ll own the neighborhood

since we have a hobby / it’s called breeding /

truchas: welfare pays for baby feeding [laugh track]

 

“penny mm”

“that one wasn’t so good no”

“well . . . there’s a lot here / let’s see”

sprinkles flowers

flower fates

owner of Sunday plumes

wind butterflies--

he descends as eagle

white eagle

possessor of arrows

eagle shield / scorching

of war / windsnake

he yodels . . .

“okay / yeah / okay: I like that last yodels”

“eh”

mescal

O

¿what’s his name? he: forgotten--

(when dios distributed intelligence)--

one talked abt behind his back--

that’s the very one / he just left

w/o saying goodbye—he lies fallen

on the road perfectamente borracho--

& he imagines himself—imagine--

dead—¡imagine!—he lies fallen on the road perfectamente

borracho / he lies looking

sideways—distracted—¿what’s

the use? old tortilla—not of

our inheritance—¿whot in the

woild fer? ¿whots the woild fer?

 

aright well he cd probably at least use pieces of this

& on they invented together more books

& shared looks w/ one hand behind back

that’s until they approached some freezer

bracketed w/ green neon & paperstreamers

& brownfolks on their knees whispering

prayers or sweet nothings they cdn’t decipher

& two youths lighting cigarettes which they left

burning at the fridge’s door in seashells

arranged symmetrically at the machine’s foot

& they thought ¿what cd this be?

& this beaner behind them sd Santa Gloria

her image:

& sure enough squinting w/ one eye while

coverin the other / they made out the shape

of her rebozo / chingao

believe this friends for when ye anda

in McTlán ye cain’t believe in things

w/ only two eyes / two eyes / y living Death

hispana

india

negra

espanola
       gabacha


pero puro mestizaje mulatotations



McTlán

& when he arrived this güerita La Muerte

hooves clacking on tilefloor

grabbed him by his left arm & prophesied some strange space:

            “for when arrived at país / Nueva Yorb

            w/ his Tío’s ashes in tinbox

& w/ highest aims

            “in this world / to feel co-ways to alleviate

            “legs of fatigue for eleven days of walking hours

            “I am 174 cm tall . . .

            “si afrecso you w/ massage

            “I will darte so you obtain                                                                                          

            “sentirte papi disfrutalo

            “I am warm woman

            “beautiful yr hearth for firing”

well & good sweet & yammy

& into his palm she pressed this bit

before she patted his cheek repeating

“stonecactus fruit Chaley stonecactus”:

 

tall gamecock who won multiple pits / but w/ this Pocho he met one fierce cockerel who pecked his comb sure enough

she asked him “¿who ye be?”

& he sd to her “I am Chaley Chastitellez”

adjusting his calzones / shifting weight

from huarache to huarache

beyond them narrow trail w/ barbed wire & nopal thickets there

quiet / serene early morning mountain slope

darkness cool / air fresh after long night rain

& to that broad valley below eight barrios

each w/ its own chapel & saint

so forget yr harina tortillas & beans comparable to plucking a handful of eyelashes & rubbermeat & get yr ham & whitebread--

hahm ‘n’ ecks—olé—                      

for here in McTlán / a place completely w/o consequence    en serio

faraway lands of tlapatl / datura stamonium nanacatl / teonanacatl / godflesh

bitter mushrooms which give fleshy visions bitter sight / washed down w/ a cold pulqazo

w/o consequence / Death already / then w/o will McTlán being

complete w/ all modern lucksuries

including plastics / oils / slaves whipped / jornaleros / Japanese internment camps / KKKs

            &c

& fine panLatinAmurkan hospitalities

 gold overestimated here claro

yes but Chaley Chastitellez : puro

storyteller & La Muerte / La Pelona

can do nothing but him embrace

& she rubs her baldhead on his shoulders

& there are great rejoicings

& sports for the next eight days / & visions

& vision

& then they went down to the shit

set shit to sail forth on the godly sea

forth Yucatán forth Isla Blanca forth

San Juan de Ulua 

 

burned some copal

 

& pinche Diaz sowed his pips

            pues he knows too people

            will say these old stories

            have nothing to do w/ history

            [tell no more—]

[but Tío already married La Marcaida / la güera

[& as he ate more she grew thinner]

& Chaley’s dead guilt sent him to this Pelona

to her underworld he descended / cast into water

into cave from crag . . .

put yrself in those chords Chastitellez / into snare

let yrself

not escape / yr faults: deadly—destroying / ¡savage!

mayhap ye’ve retracted . . . ¿or have ye

swallowed yr stench?—¿yr rottenness?

¿yr blackness? ¿yr faith?

ugly

putrescent

rotten

      forth 500 years conqueror:

“I never go back on my word” Chaley sd

to Xochitl: “¿what ye think I am  ¿a Mexican?”

& as fog lifts eight pueblos merge

& city squeezed between mountains & sea—hugging AKlaskan edges of rocky island coast

smoke from setting to setting / obsidianflavored smoke . . .

imagine

dead imagine

& green raw materials of social readymade here hey hey heya / sez some tourist

brushing Chaley’s shoulder shrugging as he passes & some gentleman

from this yellow storefront asks if Chaley’s

looking for one maybe two quality Ay-Kay handcrafted

embroidered goods made in southeast Hacia

yes longer he stands here in AKlaska longer &

more eloquent he becomes maybe less brutish

& after all this ¿why? Chaley ¿why do ye want to imagine

that ye conduct yr own train of thought?

for bueno: te la crees muy muy cabrón

little AKlaska in yr stupid soul

shd shutup & lose yr gall

& open those crusty eyes

 & ¿why? b/c why baby why

he ought not—never--

know / that he cd never--

& he doesn’t love

b/c she’s prob-ly

her husband’s  best woman

ever known that brown one Xochitl

her husband / entirely slack

& careless / likely to lose

everything down to his testicles

& she took care to wax

before coming to him

in la gran manzana

ni modo y

she más o menos

loves rain & him

wants to be w/ him

how he met her in VegAZtlán

she shuckin pearls

from oysters

he made her laugh

w/ his self-mexrecating jokes

KAY chisme

& if he cd if he cd

take back her past

love her antes than

el gringo pendejo

who colonized her

antes / before if Chaley . . .

pues pues pues pues

‘pos: what more to say w/ that hoss

y otras mujeres whose

name rhymes nearly

vision

perfected products & services

changed & exchanged at everfaster

rates / & the knowledge to design

& create value efficiently

again to market / & mark

& market it effectively

& to be becomingly true . . .

bohrdars we don’ need no stinkin vordhers

PERO:

vision  vision incense / dance / drum / vision

intense vision

a donde vas Tenochititlán

a donde vas

no puedo más

eso si que es

S—O—C—K—S

¡all common knowledge comin right on thru!

¡mande capitán!

¡en chingakay see!

common knowledge

diffused . . .

goes into land of Dead—McTlán--

yr stench / rottenness reaching

entire world—& at that instant

on his pipi: dead condom filled

w/ black beetles / scratching / crawling

& she / La Muerte remains

panting . . . coveting /

thirsting for that

& hungry

for Chaley

“Mister / ye’re a goodboy

“but just of yr own volition

“ye defile yrself—dishonor yrself / dirty yrself

“cast yrself into plumpy excrement—into ¡filth!

“b/c ye have found pleasure in vice

“ergo as penis penance do this:

“pass twice daily twigs

“thru yr earlobes

“once thru yr tongue

“esp. b/c of yr adultery

“b/c ye have hurt

“ye have harmed

“yr neighbor

“w/ yr lousy poetry”

La Muerte’s voice now sumtotal of contrary chords

—kisslurp / & suck that juice—¡O!—music / music

sueñorita / ¡how he mutilates yr harmonies!

[1] gila rivers & hills & curses shining miles per hours & hot stars & rollin hot winds & all those animals can feel monsoons arriving soon moving in thunderheads as tall as skyscrapers & purple mountains dipped into yellow valleys


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'oly Mayheeko

8/29/2012

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AmurKus

8/29/2012

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we all

underground happen from history

we all live before birth in ancestry

we all hail from a long line of cowards
 LONG LINE OF COWARDS FROM SINAL©A

we all sleep

            we all MAKE IT NEW

con llantos

& we all love a-fixin oppositions to live by[1]

yesindeedy-do we all conform

all consent

            pues we all

we all

¿ahwah?

—we all hate--

“crybaby roaches! take your drunken, mass breeding ass back to that shithole YOU created!... take your stinky anchor rats w/ you. FUCK METHICO”

we all pass slowly thru a-bein

we all obey & revolve round nothin

                                                                        thinking of her deep breathing

  made his mind unfold when driving

we all shit

we all forget

all desire

& all regret

                                                                                                            ni modo

we breathe rhythm

 

SUN GOES UP SUN ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

N GOES UP SUN

ES DOWN

we all respect la luna

we all worship el sol

we all hunger

                        & search deep in our pockets for irregular verbs

& when lost

& when lost

we all find home

& we all have mothers

& all have fathers—tho some of us never know theirs

 ¿eh C?

see way:

            identification w/ yr fathers & yr fathers’ desires to be continues forever

            to be as that principled mediation of entry into mexculine illusion

            meaning adherence to games & stakes considered interesting in that Messy xocho

universe          

see way:                we all sense escape

we all sense fear & suffer

we all learn

learn

we learn

we all live

live

we live

we all learn nuevamente

aún                              death

we live

live

then live

then die

tho some of us never know theirs

  ¿eh C?

                        & some of us never know theirs



[1] belonging                                                                                             not belonging

  us                                                                                                          them

 

  inside nation                                                                                        outside nation

  spicks Anglish                                                                                      don’ spick Anglish

  citizen                                                                                                   noncitizen (mayhap denizen)

  native                                                                                                    foreigner

  legal                                                                                                       illegal

  deserving                                                                                              undeserving

  giver                                                                                                      taker

  transplant                                                                                             no transplant

 A M U R K A                                                                           M E S S I C O

  life                                                                                                         death



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Vegas

8/28/2012

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            his uncle TOTO bought him breakfast for dinner.

            then he returned the favor later forgetting the forgiveness.

            his uncle bought him breakfast for dinner.

            she’s pushing up her raw face now

she rains herself raw

her fat ears drip themselves to one

she wrenching ever all

thinking of Blue Star punching all the buttons of destruction

            song overhead: Culture Club

            no / he wanted to hurt no one / only

to find his lost friend (¡& the loot to boot!)--

elders flocked to Vegas / to AZtlán / & he wd never

help them / he wd never assist in their endeavor--

& they didn’t know / aside anything of their

newest “Patriot” act prescribed by their pinche President--

that our story for a moment . . .

. . . let us consider the President:  we wanna President who typifies beauty we wanna President who waters his own flowers & brown shrubs a President debonair a President courteous a President cheerful & of course kind . . .

married couple sat at bar

w/ a seat between them

playing video poker casino

employee arrived inquiring

of the husband’s concerns

he sd: something inaudible

            tuxedoed casino employee

responded into his walkie-talkie

& took a key from his chain

which he inserted into a lock

in the bartop / w/ video-molded

pokerscreen both literally & virtually

stuck together

                                    clank/ clank fell coins into this man’s tray 

            & his wife watched her own screen

outside palace Bellagio he listened

to dancing waters thinking we’ve angered them

(those waters) & The People applauded loudly /

& still he saw no goddamned Blue Star

Blue Star’s search hurt his feet / fatigued his mind as well / & made his belly swell from twice several beers he downed

            “sir”

            “¿yes?”

            “there are no beverages allowed in the arcade’s fire”

            “yes”

            “sir”

            “yes / sorry” 

another man w/ braids in his hair received his payoff & his coins clinked into his tray  that might be          nevermind

           

seats at the bar of Texas Casino

had longhorns nailed to their backs—novelty/ alas   

            today might have been nice w/ a camera

Caesar’s Imperial skypaints of clouded contagion / basely / which confused Greece /  Troy/ Rome & not TaynochteetLAHN

then onward France as he drove to its top

top of Eiffel 2 (half the size of the original due to air restrictions)

considering fluorescent green-neon lilies

how they blink

raising his drink filled

in his Eiffel cup

                        ¿what?

raised in salutation to Blue whom he loved dearly

in his way / well . . .

reasonable enough,

that Blue Star shd somehow

take herself away

from such mess of this existence

 that C figured  entirely predictable

to this situation

& if indeed if placed in Blue’s position

himself thinking of doing the same

leaving during night’s course

before anyone wd notice

fleeing to someplace far from this mess

of this existence embraced yet neither admitted to 

            Blue Star obviously ran.

            C stood and considered:

one day I may run & fall one day sun may drown one day our earth may stop spinning round & I may romance media’s magazines & trees covering me may stop seeming green & branches I wander inside may believe in me

write that

no forgotten 

Blue Star stole Chaley’s money

& this mess of this existence stinks worse w/o money no doubt

sleeping felt useless

sleep during the night felt useless

Blue Star he remembered

habitually ground her teeth while she slept

            Blue Star never could have told him where she went

this had happened six times before

& each time Blue Star alluded him longer than previous

first Chaley found her at Reid Park’s polar bears

second time found her at Güero Canelo’s

third time: Grand Canon / two weeks

fourth: Wall-Mart Eye Care Vision Center / one month 

fifth: Public Pool / Pochteca / AZtlán / five weeks 

sixth: Gus’s Liquor / Grant Road btwn Columbus & Swan: 5.5 weeks

never if ever remembered whenever Blue Star

finally returned to her home

pupils covered gleamed obsidian

cd see himself reflected

in what seemed like azure obsidian 

a corner liquor store 

weeds crept up side of store

out from sidewalk

flowers arching themselves up toward desert sunlight

& he heard some children passing on their bikes 

one of the girls looked at C then quickly looked away

looked at the ground or maybe her handlebars

probably her handlebars

C stopped & asked “¿any of ye seen Blue Star?”

& these lovely children: “you stink like shit.”

“be that as it may / niños / you have overlooked my question posed”

“prolly eats shit & then shits it out & then the shit smells like shit-times-two & then he doesn’t wipe & then we smell him when he walks because the wind carries the shit”

“I thank you for your time niños” he sd

he kicked a trash dumpster

¿Blue Star sleeping?

no

no Blue Star

clouds

moved a bit 

 a sandbox further down the way

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1.i: Argument

8/25/2012

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la masculinidad ranchera : ranchero masculinitas

w/ thr music from yester

hysterday likely t’ be

forgotten tomorruthen classic

hits of yesterwhere & tue

rainyness

whencenessday

for yr homedrive over

hot-dervilish [sic]

Jersey t-pike whaleroad out yonder her green

glory stature        Sweet Mama Amurka

posturing pon her        isla de encanta                         liberty spikey head

you make a good anyone cry when anyone really regards ye sez La Llorona

two fingers up peace Amurka

holding yr   fire high take

bow madame & wipe my tears for ye    so GOODBYE then slow near DC porque

pigs it’s one   loooong              desfile de

carros down steadfast south but out yonder glimpse Amurka’s cock

rising from a concrete swamp & GOODBYE                                                                                    thru Rancho                                                                                                                             Chonchita S Carolina lowlands & GOODBYE there too tall grass & all bugs

as big as marbles

then up 95Norte on

out thru some work on

N Carolina tunnel        look: quipoknots

of clouds out other end

cielos ceasing up & hills & round al northward

ROCKdrilled thru  hillies up al northward  into Pennswoods then

hard west thru middlewest O-hio mounds GOODBYE

& one damn great desert  GOODBYE GOODBYE

desert violent & violeta   GOODBYE

a zombie who rules the night & feasts on human flesh  GOOOOOODBYE

SO go soul & holler for Chaley  bigman fearless planet lonely as sky smile as big equator smile & yes she violent & violeta twoo swoon swoon curious

crossing they down dark alleyways until dawn

at college in Tuxson studying writing then / & La Llorona found Chaley

in his AZtlántic home environment &

they strolled down

then

La Llorona noted how he dragged himself to class

chains swung about body

his swagger made disruptions & shadows

room fixed eyes on C

chiseled teeth ch-chippped from Messican gods

& how he will sit at home w/ beer

in his future reminiscing this scene

his golden boy years yes yes

on toward this cristobalfrontier: 8.5 apr so of course . . .

good ol boy Chaley w/ his books of “pomes”

& his gringitos sipping green  margaritas

outside in plastic gardened patios        misting greasy water

at concrete corpo numbers . . .

& still then La Llorona driving

GOODBYE further into flat Amurka expansive high      horizons / between

rockies then down down down sleepy Amurka

desert Snonora [sic] steadfast south past casa mañana y caca

y cacti there down in        WallMart INC / AZTLÁN             goodbye

nestled to grampapli     Grahama on    snug soldiers / copper pipes protruding

pointed toward stars & universal mysteries & ye might say infinity too

then down some more still

down

& cue Chaley . . .

/ Chaley further down down

/¿mmmmmmyelllo?  down

to somewhere near                  she heard

Querétaro steadfast hallo hallo southward O

so

out somewhere she    thinks more

than   likely at

LA CASA Sr LUIS SOLÍS that worthless man of many lies & magnificent cheeses                         & another Malinche for generations basking already / sucking his distant primo back blindly

                        into vampirish Messiskin machismo

“¿pos & you want to appear un machoman in the eyes of the world?”

for actions at LA CASA Sr LUIS SOLÍS: fruitful (for Chaley)

y

forbidden

forbidden b/c

hurtful

for behold he poised his hips toward

his mighty balls INto La Malinche

windows moonlight slicing both bodies

Chaley’s Malinche Llorona sensed maybe saw

sunk deep & she good villainess         

took those pelotas thick

balls deep flung up Chaley thy balls of gold dear lad

now SEEs our hero esta en onda

he aint one partaker in no national

religion / but one oughtto

have at least two     for real heroes certainly

w/ truth he articulated his artificed Malinche

for ca mach nelli teotl ca mach nelli mahuiztic

& for religion as Chastitellez whose whole is simpler

than      its parts & whose parts get him into deep shit            &    from now thru time

space / religion sayeth sd hero franchize yr Meskinictas & Amurkaness

w/o originality   beauracrified & conceptually contrived        SEE but what’s selling now & maybe yes   some religion w/ yr pomes

cda prevented what went down at

LA CASA Sr LUIS SOLÍS

but he worshipped what he got

                        ¿when? ¿cuix quin moztla? ¿cuix quin huiptla?           

Chastitellez took that Malinche all in in good stride

¿who cd expect less of this chingón                                                                                         w/ voracious appetites?  fed her y todo

& gods aint nothing but mere acts of cognitive reflection in tranquility & projected determining jars of ourselves                            like’m verses    so Chaley

Chastitellez shd know he sd in phone conversation while rolling

his own tobacco number y’all don’t even know

C pointed cogently that

religion derives

its impetus fro: answers

to Existing questions

O but how La Malinche’s face . . .

& how he ejected his pearl onto her tummy

Explanations

of Histological Origins of Natural Order w/ respect to                                                          Contemporary Events

yea

Power

to impart by affording Truth-Knowledge

G I V E  U S  W H A T  W E  W A N T

words can heat yr house or burn it down

Chastitellez : conquistador : conocimiento : requeza : fuerza

ooh oye poet licking lips

La Llorona’s tears brimming her eyes


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but Al Norte there          tan bonita

8/24/2012

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& enters our LORD OF EAST: QUETZALCOATL    

Q tapes a square on stage floor sits crosslegged at center chingazos to floor / four / turn ninety degrees

chingazos to floor / four / turn ninety degrees

chingazos to floor / four / turn ninety degrees

chingazos to floor / four / turn ninety degrees

pauses thirty seconds / staring straight ahead / no blinks at thirty / mouth pops w/o sound eight times / each time successively bigger Q rises / walks off stage /conchudo returns w/ two balls (approx. basketball size) hip bounce hot hoops now get yr Mesomurkan games

 & stands w/ pelotas in upturned palms center square Q bounces right huevo sixteen times / eyes remaining concentrated on audience qué chiqueón  left hand remains stationary after sixteen bounces / thirty-second pause   voice not emitted from Q’s boca: I will not use props / costume or sets / just my body & yr input input yrs & body my just sets or costume props I will  I will use props looks at balls sets  I will  drops balls Q snaps fingers right hand / arm swings in front of body thirty-two times voice not emitted from Q’s boca: a

bailar baile baile baile boy bow bluh blooooo

bhuluhm ppppbbphhsssssh     that’s wind sounds that—blooosh

bouncy

happy sounds / elatives / listen every room

elation: brown bottle of sweet stout

swishing back to & fro / ah / shirtless

in sun / what was known / seen / good

what is good

holds up one digit

I will

what is poopsible [sic]

holds up another digit

use props 

what is feasible

holds up another digit

my body

I will

recuerdo sí la elación

while saying this / Q pulls up tape square / timed

so as to have removed all tape

at the end of the monologue / & emphasizing

capitalized words w// ahem / elation

in voice

 

¿asexual? 

hardly

was tired of sex tho

tired / so tired altogether & chained to lethargy & bleakness

this bleakness gradually comes to whiteness in his later work / toward geometric purity / dehumanity / scientific objectivity & raw bodies & raw style

surrounded by culture & surrounded by assimilation

no existential retreat

ability to read word as god allows one to interiorize heavens

you’re bealofulla

pit of seamless summer hail now that beaty bodega music I’m a skinny kid in high school & the quarterback gets all the girls / so I thought I’d grow my hair out / see what happened

this guy knew he liked community college fine enough

heard a radical speaker speak of the ideology of the missionary position

put it spatial terms

that made sense now

our sign’s hourly

here’s silent eyes

here sigh & . . . hibernates

loves those saintly gadgets / & they veer often

they pyramid in ringing to closest highways

that’s where night be swinging the wild—is them where

night too here now goes gonging the light[1]—that’s where

Magellan singing sang the ducky nets—daring such fluctuations

to give ye fingers

dew has that / so unendedly goes by gone / & image

dew’s all began—¡& we’re signed so graftly in diner sonnets! 

¡so bright!  get walled in yr self-fashioned hut

solitary & so to flowerpots that the dew mentioned / England

& Madonna ruined jets follow cana-cans lass / thine hand

am hanged here a rune & do ill stumps—was where done’ll go

cathedral of yr childhood / drawn by some blind man high off his ass

remembers running

into the KIDDIE POOL & my

drawers falling off MY ASS &

some folks laughing

& the old black dodge parked

to the side there in the GRAVEL

DRIVE & I think

there’s the picture of me & I hope to

god there’s a picture of that OLD BLACK

DODGE BECAUSE

that thing had memories of its decay stowed

inside on the bench seat THERE.  I remember we

took that monster to

CALIFORNIA ALL SEVEN OF US & I can’t

remember if my abuelo was there but I seem to

remember pointing to

him on the map that we were on Broadway in L.A. but

really that might only have been Broadway in TucK

son / so then I suppose

I remember two things but I remember that truck  I

remember all of us piled into the CAMPER on air

mattresses that might

only have been double-sized/ blue if I remember

right / w/ blanket & pillows & plenty of comics &

DORITOS  surely there were walkmen as well

                        I remember HuitzliPocho wdn’t STOP CRYING   I OFTEN

TELL PEOPLE THIS IS THE TIME AT WHICH

I DEVELOPED MY FEAR

OF WHALES  I told a child I help to read the

other day my fear of whales / but I left

out the drama about

sitting next to the TANK IN THE JUM

PING show & being splashed by

one of the killer beasts

w/ its trainer riding on a saddle slapping

it w/ a whip / GIDDUN UP THEAH

ONT’ TH’ PLATOFORM

CRITTER giddun up theah / my

 family of deities sitting but two rows from

this platOform (& they

in full knowledge/ us seated in

the painted seats) & seeing the

animal’s jAWs directly be

fore me/ bits of kibble &

BALL & dUNG stuck up in the

gums  OF COURSE I WEPT

            ye yalhua

            ye huiptla

            ica nichoca

            ica ninentlamati

of course I wept  & then I carried

whales w/ me whenever I closed my eyes in water

even on those burning waters

I feared hyper-correction of annunciation in performance:

action of the body / Quetzalcoatl & the natural  breathing to the systole/diastole of the body & the Quetzalcoatl’s extensive focus on the nuances of language to act as if that language were language performed naturally / w/o strain / certain ease seeming natural / not feigned / not learned—quite bluntly—a natural sort of superiority ¿who can perform this?  ¿what body?  body performing critiques other bodies body performing is left to riff on its own: the performer’s choreographed instructions read:  I mean improvise



[1] bright blue beam into his body bent backward awkward fire into his life / visions / visions / visions  



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    Chaley Chastitellez

    Annals of Aztec demigods, Chican@s more Dedalusians in slouches, Quetzalcoatls in jumpsuits.

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