The simplest Surrealist act consists of dashing down into the street, pistol in hand, and firing blindly, as fast as you can pull the trigger, into the crowd.
-Andre Breton, Second Manifesto of Surrealism
make me feel it then!
i am not a tawdry penny, but i sure as hell feel like one.
why can’t we see our fortunancy
living as legends have lived
bane and dismannered
we coax all the time
knowing that nothing is left when we die.
come along, fool.
a direct hit of the senses, you are disconnected
it’s not that it’s bad, it’s not that it’s death
it’s just that it is on the tip of your tongue, and you’re so silent.
my heart really sings.
Rhythmic Sequence 4
on another note: i am claptrap, balderdash, blarney, hogwash, moonshine, jive, eyewash, poppycock, malarkey, codswallop, flapdoodle, hot air - nonsense.
in the gas her eyes are imagined
and what she sees cannot be detected
over my head. pere ubu.
Sequence 9, 1972
it’s like a hundred little cuts all over your body.