Homage to Jack Spicer

 

Three drops of semen fell from the hanged man.

First: lack of condensation.

(God has weighed his soul. It's a kind of game. Not serious. It's been thus for so
                          long, the drop lost in unremembered time, the soul
                          thus, God in his etc.)

Second: lack of ants.

(They were hastening to the holes in the body required for dying for being
                          displayed, hung there. Each one intoxicated they
                          enter his cave through its pores. They're not worth
                          talking about, the hanged man (vertical) has died in
                          an instant (he could do no less) his fate prepared it,
                          no turn of the screw now no rope, no capstan, no
                          millvane: he's dead).

(Ants intoxicated: was it the poem that died?)

Third: lack of redundancy.

(Impatient reader, look, they've taken him down. The grave digger of the school
                          of Mozart, a common grave, a yardstick, a yardstick.
                          This guy had shot the sheriff, they found him guilty
                          (no dissent) it serves him right and the gavel fell).

 

 

back to issue one

 

[ page 2 of 2 ]