Message-ID: <alpine.NEB.2.21.1804051355520.26001@panix3.panix.com>
From: Alan Sondheim <sondheim@panix.com>
To: Cyb <cybermind@listserv.wvu.edu>, Wryting-L <WRYTING-L@listserv.wvu.edu>
Subject: war bloomed into substance
Date: Thu, 5 Apr 2018 13:58:42 -0400 (EDT)
war bloomed into substance http://www.alansondheim.org/imp.jpg doctor, i am impure. i cannot fight. i cannot find my enemy. i look inside scarred, mottled. impure, i cannot believe. every- thing in the world is my lover; hate, you are my enemy. i am impure and i do not know when when the last collapse comes, the impure becomes pure; the pure becomes history is dead, i am impure, i shall rise up, i shall rise up we dream the pure and the impure. all dreamings are irregular and impure. thinking how impure you can be, there's nothing at all. *//gloss: defilement! defilement!//* impurity, you're my friend; hate, you're my enemy. i'm impure and i don't know what to hide there. or rather maybe the hard external world, with its dream of the pure and the impure. all dreams are irregular and impure. war - if it isn't impure it's rubbed sex bloomed into substance. *//gloss: walls! walls! get them out of here!//* heavens and beneath them, pure substance, vice is impure in the world. humans bloom into impurity. they rubs sex raw impure as all the rest. an impure mind surrounds itself with impure things and a fortune. or symptomatic of a closeted and impure personality. or a last collapse when you come. history's dead, i'm impure, i'll rise up, i rise up, i rise. *//gloss: to arms! to arms! they're coming for us!//* there's impure emptied of the soul, dark about time, already fading. thinking how impurity works here. it doesn't. suspect and impure, think how impure you can be there's none of it. *//gloss: absolution, cleansed, clean and proper body!//* impure scorch. purpose. gush. we dream the pure and the impure. all dreamings are irregular and impure. mother to me, free from impure tormenting body, the causes resulting in purity, when is ought impure? of what use, what concern, bhikkhu? each mixes, purely, impurely, with the other; each intercepts the other. purity is always abject; substance stains. in cyberspace, the break is impure, tainted. my arms have been sent to your relish. we move to and fro without consideration of pure or impure, lying beyond the determinate. they remain untouched by dust and water. there there's dirty, noisy models under erasure, models within impure flesh. and culture itself? flesh, body, section's impure; it exists in-relation-to-x and not-x; it's the null. grasped with tongue and lips, an ankle visible, white impure number like mother to me, freed from the impure tormenting body, bewildered, naming. liquid impure lockdown toes moved slowly. each mixes, purely, impurely, with the other; each intercepts the other. purity is always abject; substance stains. and just as in reality, names are ontologically suspect and impure. *//gloss: impurity lockdown! cleanse!//*