Saturday, March 17, 2012

Anita Need, 2011


O’ new muse come see me
Now that you are absolutely obsolete

            The new muse doesn’t listen to things with words–well–discernable language

Calling you down, then, from your house
Means that I want something really special, and that even more
You better have it if you want some attention

            The new muse thrives on attention while detesting intention

But what about invention?

The new muse deserves and receives a moderate amount of credit for the disparate state of contemporary aesthetic conventions.

I asked about invention, not convention, but while you’re at it, does this mean I belong in the narrative of a larger movement?

            Convention and invention correspond more than you are probably imagining

Concerning these vents, then, my events, I again call you, my nude muse – Will you answer or will I make a one sided four dimensional conversation for us?

            That’s not a real question

Then my answer will respond to everything but itself’s self

            And as for just itself?

Will receive explanation in passing in passages
            From my mouth

To yours truly

Anita Need, betray me
to screaming peers

an image in a pane
-pangs of it is made

to hear what is seen
outcrafting our sun

while the mouth lacks            

my body has no body
but its body

with your rocking permutations
–matching exaltations

coarsely, you are more fun
for my face, Anita Need

than words without you
could ever be

Video is static without you
Making us stand, speak and scream
To one another as a same typed thing
Participating in an arena in which we
Hear, feel and sometimes even see happenings
As they happen to one another and ourselves
– in language one part of a part of one unit
at a time analogizing fantastically, mythically multiplying our state or some other
depicted as in photographs yet not known, our own
in a first or second-hand sense, but another as from a story
full of interpolations                all the more stirring because of them.

Without this first state, Anita, the one in which you appear
Flanking us alongside ourselves wearing unfamiliar hats with common prints,
possibilities can’t enter our pockets as necessary items do
only to fall due to a lack of prudence that manifests in the absence
of a key case, despite the recommendation
of one by all importantly chosen authorities involved.

Anita, I called you by name
Upon finding the state of excitement
In which you excite only yourself – not
For lack of catalyzing enzymes – my
Credentials are riddled with them as sebaceous pores.

We’ve no excuse for this Idleness anymore –  it sits on my chest
during something like sleep, buoying the five hundred
Thousand pounds of pressure per cubic breath
With which I now command both you and your sister –
I mean business, Anita; You, the subject of mine as I am to yours

In this thing of foreign design; I motion with smell
Overriding what’s written sincerely,
Taking you for walks, mumbling to her, the Other not apart
From practice but being beside it, embodying the breast bestially  
but not completely ­–
even mild slaps embolden, yielding a single word outlined with white

Why is it white you choose and not red, brown, green, yellow, black or another?
Could I not track you more easily with them, and if other factors inform
Your decision, what are they? Can I know them with my hands? If not, my feet then?
Surely my feet could do the job you need. They broach the opposable, and
I haven’t walked barefoot anywhere in a long time. See, I respect
your boundaries – respect my needs.

Don’t fulfill them, though. I’d hate nothing more than to be filled.
With you, Anita, as with everyone, I seek nothing more than
Everything that is neither within nor beyond my grasp. Is that not
The making of successful art, and if it is not, how else could any art
Of a man succeed?

Fuck the sublime – that’s not what – I’m talking about – here:

From this distance derives from a proportional force within “A”
From each space filled, one ascertaining another
Of each space fulfilled, a master refutation
Of each repetition, a stirring
For each, speech lies
In every lie, something to do
With every activity, an opportunity
With all opportunity, a place
In each place, an opportunity
With all opportunity, a place


Heeding need is hard

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