> write something mad
is poetry an outlet of madness?
our manifestos are impossible to perceive,
the sweet insertion of a disruption
the insistence of an always already
fuck that, anticipate unpredictability,
don't make plans, make jungle gyms
to climb about, a gymnastics of self.
I have seen the future and it doesn't work.
neither does the present
despite exabytes of experience
culturally, we're all running on fumes
and semiautomatic neglect:
our manifestos are impossible to perceive.
"the military is the subsystem
of our society tasked
with employing lethal force"
said an engineer. but of course
force is often lethal. what they mean
is killing people
the sweet insertion of a disruption,
often on purpose, often.
their clothes lie empty.
our drones are not impossible
to perceive. "tasked"?
their throat an open grave.
swap "pottery" for "poetry" in any phrase.
concrete pottery. found pottery.
is pottery an outlet of madness?
if sculpture is a house, pottery
is a man on fire running very fast
through it with a brush and glaze.
our manifestos, perceivable prose pottery.
erotic pottery.
concrete always wants (to be) a cloud.
desire is what joins us
loadbearing smut.
tongues as lockpicks.
their clothes lie empty
desire is what joints us.
glitter, punk.
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