EMPATHY:

NINTH ANNUAL MANIFESTO OF THE FREE CHURCH INTERNATIONAL,
AKA ERU:UMU, AKA TROPIC OF AQUARIUS, AKA THE VELCRO SAXAPHONE, AKA Ms. BIGGY, ALSO KNOWN AS TRANSPIRE, UNIVERSAL UPLOAD, INTERNATIONAL LOVE UPLOAD, SPIRIT SALAD.



IN WHICH fragmented arrangements of drawn breath drop with rich plumage upon the Nowspace

IN WHICH fragmented arrangements of dropped plumage draw richly upon the Nowspace

IN WHICH fragmented plumage drops upon the Nowspace arrangements richly drawn













the moon at noon
that pale balloon
approached
and offered
me a spoon



thereafter soon
I took to swoon
and fell
upon
a broken rune







A) Objects in the dust. The imperviousness of mannequins. An unexpected turn. Doors are Us, broken glass is still glass. What is the imperviousness of mannequins? Turtle’s shell, turtle- the-shell. Naked Amos relax… into this tapestry. Almost Amos doors become us turtle-the-shell with Usage. Relax! Imaginary sounds are still sounds. Broken glass is still glass.

(Sometimes broad formal criteria are delineated beforehand. This is something from which meaning can develop. This is something.) *


B) “Point me in the right duration.” **



*
in the playground of the imagination
rippling, all things may bathe
a river rushing outward, in
through all directions and durations


** The sun beats down
The Earth is a drum
In rivers of light
My skin runs
Show me the sword
Oh Golden Horde
Show me the way
The birds still pr-y

“Eating flowers in the desert
Beautiful flowers in the desert”






EATING FISH

Start with this:

Ride in a car along a predetermined stretch of road or highway, at a set speed (60 mph, say). Record the sounds of the trip. Then make the same journey at a faster or slower speed, replaying the soundtrack from the first time.





24/25
In my dream last night I fought a demonic entity, which I either killed with two swords or which transformed into four swords clattering to the ground after which I picked up two of the swords. In a circle of ash (or thoroughly burnt up wood or paper) lay or fell a cigarette butt. It’s burnt tobacco end came to resemble a mouth like a bird or reptile beak which spoke in a deep, slow, booming voice. It was angry I had defeated the demon and mockingly summoned another [demon?] which it called “The Dragon” or “My Dragon”. A humanoid form- maybe both or neither male/female- rose slowly out of the floor. Its head was reptilian maybe and with tentacles or horns or a writhing combination of both. It’s movements intimated a terrifying speed. With the two swords in hand I dashed up a flight of stairs to a door, whereupon The Dragon caught up with me? Something transpired… either I stabbed the Dragon with one or both swords or I said something to it, perhaps puzzling it long enough for me to escape through the door?




Q:What do you need from the parchment colossus?
A: Pearlescent ostrich, plum connotation. Gestural pronunciation.



THAT MAN
IS A SHADOW
IN A CORNER
OR ANOTHER

(that man… is a shadow… in a corner… or another…)



He breathes green haze through blackening nostrils. Pass him where he stands, green shafting lights spin about his head in haloes and glories of decrepitude. You will see him again once or twice, as you drive. He will recognize you, too.

Bodies on the sidewalk twitch to a halt, become cold or old even, layers of burlap, cardboard, and a patina of sweat smog rain jizz peels of banana cellophane splinters blowing like jellyfish. Scraggly dirtface sprouting seaweed open mouth- the plastic bag squatting at his feet like some great lousy dog. Eyes roll wet, writhing tongue, broken lips greasy, stained blackandpurple by godknowswhat. They stretch sideways across babbling gums bleeding brown. Teeth, uncrowding over time dislocalities/ rotting shards glazed with earwax he smiles…






To succumb to the illogical
terminus of one’s mortality; to
gaze upon the Void and inhale
terror; to weild the blunt pickax
of imagination, mining diamonds
from the blackness of helpless
despair. To lubricate said diamonds
with the plasmic residue of
Willful Engagement. To swallow
mystery.

What other motions through time?
Lives may slide through one another,
each exchanging barnacles of
memory and anticipation with the
other.
What of leaving and returning?
The “forward and backward motion”
of the piston or the sad snail…
Perhaps one leaves the station
and returns as another. A
weightless bullet through the
curvature of the Void. An
expectation, an Untidy Return.













Dogs and children
Undeveloped
Squat, crawl, splay
For the camera’s ubiquity
Surveillance collapses distances
Wormhole economy:
Faces flush
Houses, streets, sweeping machines

Cigarettes
And the smokers who smoke them

Corners Trees Posts
and mailboxes
Fences, handrails, telefono

AWAY AWAY AWAY AWAY AWAY
The cracking shadows of the neighborhood
Open
Onto new vistas of safety
Where refrigerators hummmmm
Habitual consumption

Embrace the alleyway, cave
The Sewer
Jungles of cardboard
Float down gutteral rivers
Under sunlapped palm



Go too slow for the counting committee
Fall beneath the streets
Tilt the parking meter
Fall beneath the streets

Chip away the corner of the building
Work small
Break away bits
of the
Remade world

Multiply
And let each
set before oneself
The tiny tasks of disaster
DISMANTLE!
Court destruction
In a million small moments
Open! Open!
Script demise…

Expurgate!
Unravel the logic of control
To weave nooses
For its clerics
Take shelter in the storm
Open above you






Oh my sister, my brother,


The whole world that envelopes you is alive and
engaging. Extend your consciousness beyond the
race. Strike accord with the tree, the owl,
the sidewalk, the sun. The whole world
welcomes you! Open!

The scaled things of the sea the beauty
of the hunt the green patina of the
softening headstone the undulations of the leaf
and breeze the razoring dilation of the hawk’s
eye: Open!

The soft connect, delicate ripple between belly
and thigh, between ear and temple, between earth
and root, virility and decay… Open!

When despair wraps about you like a
blue fog, when friends betray, when
loves abandon, when the weight of the
future flattens your lungs, Open!
Open! Open! Open! Open!

You are the Universe!
External Now! Internal Howl!
Eternal Now!

Now!
Now!
May life kiss you on
the lips! Open your mouth
and let it penetrate
suck hard, and become.







Free Church International
APRIL 1st 2009