no. 8 from 'Code #4 Texts' (Oneiros Books 2014)

 

8.…no blinded eye/ no set to follow on from motion unto waste here comes the blood rising in the throat/ speaking of foreign night and blank drip of the faucet/ in mesh of isolate here or there another’s bask/ till frenzy occult in shear of the benign what of yet till knocking as if it were possible/ throughout or of/ asking -no/ blinded then till gilt of skin removed guttering upon the ice of some given obsolete/ tomorrow’s hand the skinned purpose of it flung upon the table the blood-stained cards are none and void/ the bones dissolve in the vapours of/ rancour of/ reek stank of dead till once click/ horror of/ immense density of the bind/ the stitch to mark the wrist here or there another/ till fold of ash in given density/ there’ll yet be/ give or take a/ the brutality lies in the claim of blood the meat’s devour of shine/ bone/ none of the hereafter/ till sickness plundered for the weight of frenzy/ given till task given up as if to offer prayers/ three strikes then gone/ it recalls it does not recall/ the blind tint of the sagging air/ rich with the maggot asking of once or of the naught claiming the winds that drift in through a crack in the door/ the room is empty as death final/ a taste of mortuary upon the lips give or take a minute here or there of the light dense dense displaced/ as if it were said/ etched out in invisible traces/ the passage through which benign as skinned carcass/ traceless yes/ no blinded yet the eye of it/ there are sweets on offer/ cancerous the dark eats away the face the blood the bones until the edge of the night and forgotten yesterdays/ till fold of ash in given density/ what of the breathe then/ what of the beauty then/ an arced scar stitches up the fucked breath of severance tasted ever known/ as if to…sudden as if to…sudden as if to fade…sudden as if to fade from out of which/ given lest the…no nothing…rage or no/ unto the naught…

43 eneco 17102013 calibrationcode 122117400 gas 03682,643 m3 electricity 025384 kWh then

before the final recalibration,some last thoughts...."none of the hereafter/ till sickness plundered for the weight of frenzy" just this pointless spilling,seepage,leaking,chemical green riverial exhaust to measure perhaps for no dead politics urgent later these decaying records in desertificated neomono continent. average depth 2km/1.24 mile titres of irondioxide 0.7765 mmol/sq.mtr ironsulfide 4.72mmol/sq.mtr sulfuric acid 6.08 mmol/sq.mtr nowhere to go from nowhere to easily escape inner virioid plaque incidence accumulation tests biofluids viruses in the pneumomucus plateaus >100,22µ mmol/l.,toxoplasmosis incidence positive a life is lived wired within webbings of pathogens and scarcity,sparcity mental drought degenerative loss of braintissue due to toxogene environments in such sprawling evidence we see a paradigmatic shift from the antropocene to the toxicocene dipiperon bound to ritalin 77.60% high athmospheric particularized coincidence the old not forgotten dioxine some decline yet bc of its intransigentality and high toxicity it is a contingent plaque to stay found in the polar bears as well as in the hickory wood and the polish Białowieża Forest the humus accumulation of heavy metals fourhundred times as high as fourty years ago. 44,20 mg/sq.mtr while the,acetoneacrylatetitres heavily jumped to never before seen levels of 59,88 %/sq.mtr as with the toluenesulfuride the appr. density per mg. 60%,4100% higher than when first measured. "life does not live" cited adorno. we're dead and already know it or don't know it yet as how anti theatre would start a premisse without ever solving such dualities which are metastatic metamanifestations of a world,chemifying and azteced in that its heart seems ripped out left bleeding where tears lay in the past this is the new crying

michael mc aloran aad de gids

'Nothing Ever', reviewed by Zuzana Susu

 

MMA aad gid

revieweuse luxe panthère (also haute) on this unbelievable out of order new kind of book of MMA Michael McAloran.

is this a difficult book ? well hell yeah, but if we want to read it we will. it sets all kind of parameters on its head. if you sense you're taking part of a whole new thing qua litterature, it is just exhillirating. I have always searched for this 'antiArt' and always succeeded to find it. you have to be prepared to set aside all conventionalisms. and that I was, we were (with Bas), already in the 70s. we read the strangest books, saw the strangest [non]paintings, listened to unbearable antiMusic. we even participated in antiTheater. then yes you are quite prepared to take notice of Michaels newest book: 'Nothing Ever'.

kind of a sedate title. the book is a rupture with all that came before. he doesn't like to hear it but Michael is simply the best Irish poet. and Ireland of course already has such prevalent reputation. it is as with the perfume 'Red. Giorgio Beverly Hills'. 'Wearing Red, everything else pales'. having read 'nothing ever', there is a before and after. we agreed to work against the lesbotechno revieweuses barflies. torpedotitted, they think to rule the scene. but we give them no space, Michael not with his poetry, me not with my leopard shawled, rouge-noir lacquered acryl nails. fuck the litterary establishment. well ready with the intro, lets dynamite.

"a desire for final absence colourless skyline of all sense devour -- mockery tint of absolute to claim where division is but once as scald of flesh is to taste strip night collective repetition absence -- dense weight of nocturne-in in semblance reduct fathomless collage in a collapse of origin".

the fog of text from MMA (Michael McAloran). if meaning appears it is at the same time gnawed into fragmented proportions again with the plethora of the words that, fluidified, follow. if Michael chose Beckett to cite an adage from (with 'gnawing' in it) it is because we all need to do our patricide matricide. 'meaning' is 'sense' and we see what happens where representationism (what texts often achieve) absolve repetitive gestes. Michael finds energy in the unlikeliest of places. " aglow in dead matter to writhe within in colourless speech of static execution ". "it sings along beneath a-breathe of agues buried in a kiln of pulse bulb ideation ". here I go in a frenzy of associationisms. 'pulse bulb ideation', so there is here a dimension still of something 'positive' or rather 'affirmative'. then the word hidden inside: 'agues' = a shube of Malaria; we can also add 'ages', 'aches', not all so dissimular. the accent aigue, é. 'The acute accent marks the stressed vowel of a word in several languages.' swarm of stressors. this is also a kiln, a cauldron of heat, of energy. plus this is rather exactly described. "collision absence - it is neither sun nor some entity of bloodless fathom all lock & bathe white light neither dark merely static in all centre collect ". the aforementioned affirmation is nothing but a lightblip: "all what said ever of some barren trace pissing freely upon all that once ever was to seed in some banquet some solace in an amplificatory roar of virulent psychosis". in this text of Michael we find the bare hydraulics of 'process', 'machine', 'obsidian tidality' and hacked emotions. " hollow blood to erupt throughout -- spasm vicious slash across the gait of in-dreaming ever of wreckless compress of skeletal oxide ".

these texts may resist against reading. then it is rather an 'experiencing'. the book is sliced with intruigueing illustrations by David M. Mitchell, who is also instrumental in the publishmachine that facilitated this book: 'Oneiros Books' in collaboration with the 'Black Worm Media Kollektive'. his illustrations have a kind of resemblance with some of Bas's. maybe thats why I find them rather acute and outerdimensionally. then now comes the moment to cite extensively out of Michaels book, otherwise you'll never sense the change his book really incorporates. "broken it opulent / else as of which reclamation of unto in lack of distill rip to shreds to shadow lock of night irredempt colourless thankless space a blockade yet no nothing of that what as if to whisper traces no speech no all forgotten mimicry of some vague distillate no no longer wishes to a foreign absence of sound lack in all its cannot lapse light leapt closure no/ of wound bled out of tidal weight collapse deft breath devour no hope in hell grace as if to ever no nothing there a hand that clasps eternal as one is not second to go is first flog of some lack what over then of some accord all spoke once more there goes it tidal no yet given to speech reclaim in laughter of some hung light far afar that never of where once to be or other than as of have of it yet what yet of waste ground where now in closure of what given to beckon of as if to speak all days done for haven no what of till colourless maxity stray says no yet of what origin bulk of which weighted what of till tidal as forgotten nothing of see another there appear to be hours without wonder a drift of cloud across pupils long absent of skyline all what sung as if to know barrage of silence bone deep sever an absent frenzy of night & all that it obliterate ". this is language hunting itself. we can establish that it is nice to read the words as the words and throw all expectancies overboard. just also think of those last two years and what vomit and inpredictability, endless streaming of journalist chiffres and halfconclusive texts were spoken to us only: I wasn't listening. if there is similarity between those contoured morphologies there is, yet in Michaels case it is also critique and not only restrictively so. think of the laTrumpes' blahblah. than MMA's book is rather critique and has a metaposition, poetry, prose and philosophy and....DADA. here we also find the malcited Derrida, but then with his malcitation as true: "Critics of Derrida have been often accused of having mistranslated the phrase in French to suggest he had written "Il n'y a rien en dehors du texte" ("There is nothing outside the text") and of having widely disseminated this translation to make it appear that Derrida is suggesting that nothing exists but words. Derrida once explained that this assertion "which for some has become a sort of slogan, in general so badly understood, of deconstruction [...] means nothing else: there is nothing outside context. In this form, which says exactly the same thing, the formula would doubtless have been less shocking." ." I hold steadfast to the 'misinterpretation' because I feel that we: the 'post-post writers, the antiPoets, the EndtimeWriters, celebrate this Wortsalat. it is the same as with Beuys as he says: 'Jetzt brechen wir den Scheiße ab'. so we do not upheld anything. that there is the paradox of needing a book to express just that, that is something already Adorno and Horkheimer tackled in the Critical Theory. Index Falsii, the totality is wrong. 'the big works of art are waiting', after Auschwitz. so it is no surprise to find in Michaels book concepts of Place, Time, Space, Absence, Repetition, Sense, Tidality and with great majority these concepts are now GONE. "where to recoil breakage no what term of dislodge collapse shudder shatter wordless soundless broke never answer tidal atrophic lapse what long & all what sung from derelict absolve lack of intake desire for once that never other ever than obsolete devour colourless in laughter of which a collision bathe in black waters closed shores where flesh abides all fallen forage no all forage fallen nothing to remark upon lapse all to having in dread of hour upspoke forgotten of in of else some distance none no there what of once never as what yes or no cyclic as solace ever in what else of which given to recoil where once was haven of disclosure never of yet of where once all spoken no yet yes as bleed it all from severance severed to bone ". then detritus, debris, accretion of coral and marine nanoplastics, are more described than (not) nessecarily supportive of antroposcenic hyperurbanities. we can thus find 'unforgotten forgotten' right next to each other, as such excluding false positivisms. "tasteless as before expound of bleak white waters to caress where to unto unforgotten forgotten ever from emblems stretch of from beyond of where sudden to downpour once distance forage in an elect of skull sudden to avaricious nothing of which what matter as if to convey it where ever so spoken was of once as if to burn in black light worship of as if to travail see dim from which in ever less what as flux of breakage point skull shadow shale of lapse unto as if to graven nothing of until devour by". not in, not out, not alive, not dead, death unnamed but a wrap. then the syntax isn't also safe: "till obsolete haven of null void misspelled from outset lapse ". Michael also said that they left 'glued words' in. I love it all. here still a meta remark: "as all flesh subside a birth a step a vantage point ", this is kind of programmatic observation of putrefaction yet also a choreography of seriegraphic cartographies. fading as affirmation. we're now also not reading anymore, from Plaza to Plaza, the reader = the writer. we meet an exoticism as intimism: "…was the taxed parameter of skyline breath of once intake exhale in foreign drag of corpsal light through the vacancy of ever known forgotten in an instanced breath haven of what which spill of the drag what purpose final as composure stillness of eye & out of which what fallen shards of frozen meat in cavalcade redress wild edge of night to embrace as abattoir silences ". an energy as entropy. I see that I have to clip my haute review somewhat, otherwise we have another thick booque. essentialism as it now is circumvirates Michael thusly: "the else of essence spectral". as if aside Michael defines litterature, linguistics, language as mass. Michael writes in a pulsative, eruptive, an inintermittent stream of language unbewillst and poetically threatening to throw up meaning through holes in the textist waves. an endless open stream of words, here more adhering to eventual quasi-meaning while there a hauntingly icing against any pop-up boutique of meaning. (meaning was always overrated.) now we see in his language nanoparticles, molecularisation, multiplicities, dissipation of corpuscules. "silenced nocturnes of corpsal devour what edge from which to follow thankless chance : insectal crawl through fleshed night capacity : lack to : haven spell : danse of one thousand fragments unlimited expansion whereof in kaleidoscope is to shatter of in pupil gaze where sound dies down : fingers that reach for nothing of given to wilt to recoil to dissipate in bodily time : excess of bloom where to breathe of is the lightless passage through one sequence never of before ". here we have the veritable tanatography, teratomatosis. "this is nothing" Michael deadpans. "a useless whore of unspeak of soundless restless blind a dance of whispering winds caress the skyline’s promise no it remains unseen untenable ". 'whore' here not misogynistic, a torchname radiation, all the previous and thereafter; "of unspeak". it is precisely articulating her possibilty of many speeches, of speach and spurs. I will end my review (while there was a lot more in it,because I wanted to cite at least one page of Michaels staccato onslaught of language, words, lexicology, the instance of the reader, the attick corner of the writer). "elected to this a broke stone tragedy of cards cast no await of dawning into to become of some never having been or otherwise decide it otherwise decision nullfeeding frenzy of hyenic final laughter as if to mock what tread is of nor other claim or no what from/ why from distance no rooted to given to speech declaration a bloodless night collapsed into of which until tidal opulence of blood come to shores of till dread of which haven lack all shadowing devour colours of which of absence tidal oceanic spillage of breath where to embalm is to nothing ever waste wounds terse where to closure space lack of definition one singular edge to caress a razor silence all at once unsaid to drift whereby cold drift of broken amulets seeketh from as night impenetrable bite downcrest to fall upon where to shiv is to breathe spectral as given in shadow timescale of desert clime absent ofsky no linger taste of ashen promise where of in now of which flat-lined eyes that seek to utterance collect lime quarry of searing membrane a shattered glass pane of transparency inept as ever once of other than cold weight to lack other of through which dispel seeketh solace drought of echoings traces burnt to dust…as if to/ all but once never favour of adrift skull compress a sequence of riddled flesh meat to tear throughout…cauterize of once cannot neither of in final as seeks semblance to taste nothing of being-in emptily drag of pelt across absent landscape stone clad as burning of where flesh to be is sickness of where to nullity bankrupt veins a/ motion lack of absenteeism where to having birthed once in absentia in reek of blood’s tidecalls cards they are spent as rotting..."

54

"orchids adrift in some foreign breeze settling in distance obsolete breathed to un-sky trace of lock-a adrift speechless as of once ever of some shadowing collects in din refusal echo to trace reverberate of skyline sieved by fingers cold dust of voidal exigency of bereft light end till none lapse of throughout a shimmering of halo tread of limb warped colourings bite in darkness overture vault to breathe of effortless to crush in thin lights subtlety of blade to caress in fleshed abandon eye see eye sees once or other a scattering of embers in shit breathless of to burn of it a knock a silhouettesilence bleeding out where once was of sustained as of in which till of what of in or less than as nothing of obscure distance no longing for to burn as of blackened meat dissolve spasm tread throughout gild of absent razor slash eviscerate to the hilt of ash an evacuation of piss of shit-stained dusty sheets blood to lack as of some colourization as limbs once foraged die down in listless slaughter mock of stitch of some reclamation taste of desire in haven of where to flesh is to absolve is to breakage subtle cold light as if in which of uttered blank space a point of light to fade as a pupil’s invertinter-spasm of line drawn white chalk through spacial lack of definition a mercury of shimmer bleed dredge of in nor of a gouge of mouth stretched before unknown clad in pelt of nothing ever rind of breath scarred without longing for to settled within of spoken unto where none of being is of else in dreamt of spoken of what shiv to trace throughout where to of abode blackened sun light absence of sky corrected if yes or of breath shredded of purpose other than through"

55

I have remarked this before, but we're near Linneaus, the Linnean 'listing' of all plants. if often the connecting words are gone we get a new sensorial KGB CIA MOSSAD texting module. it is inescapable. if Michael summarizes: "extract broken terse obsolete words prayers ". theology without theology. I'll have to leave it at that, not because cursing is Verboten but I shall not leave before I have given this lemmatum of absolute admiration and the testimony of Michaels substantial geniality

Aad de Gids/ Zuzana Susu on MMA, Lee Kwo & David C McLean

 

HOW MMA WRITES. LEE KWO AAD GID. DAVID MCLEAN

what wound where of what wound where

.

breakage lessened shadow ever to...all lapse back-step deserted as of...skyline what no matter...landscape what no matter

.

slash-mark having of in echo dreamt... extinguish all same as before...over once more until

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unspeaking colours breakage point of none resplendent

.

...utters without in lack of on...what of in on...no not of a no not a on...trace without...cold din of nothing ever ever if...where placement of in nothing more collapse...drag what pelt...echo echo of unspeak of tone

.

no not of not a..nowhere having of closed some semblance wound absorbed...spit it out once more as if to drown upon

.

bitten blight of having no nothing having yes of other than collision with where speech non-claim where words non-claim...from outset onset as was said

.

dead zones no not a...nothing ever of...no not on...nothing next to follow...burns allwhile in citrus flame...paralysis gestures &...breakage of what matter

.

where laughter long is some bitten reclusion...dead tone...breach-birth some solace in what of collision nothing ever...nothing no yet on where on is final no...intermezzo...forgotten climes...

.

the text allows linguistics because research, litteraturetheory, linguistics, are dead.

so these dense textpatches (of which I took just the ones that charmed me) do not, no,

they incorporate the "resistance is futile" adagium and in doing so, outwriting so,

seal what these texts themselves say isn't to be sealed. I, each time could have taken

one and a half sentence further to reach to the same 'zonofloating' with words that

nevertheless snake themselves into themselves, for the words sake (lexicology, -post-),

for a metrum that has density as parameter, or irritative, insecticide intermissions,

interferences, this text doesn't respect its own medium anymore yet hijacks it to further

us in the realms of nowhere. if it were a music then the sluts, the killers, the hells,

the the, if it were paintings than of pollock, kippenberger, rhotko (rothko), baselitz,

if it was theatre than situationist performances of pippilotti rist, tracey ermin, the

NY collective 'die collector scum' and or, 'relax it is just a crap reena spartings show'.

if it was poetry than on the endpoint of beckett, céline, borges, célan, cioran, thomas

bernhard, gertrude stein and margarite duras. we have here a random collection of

end formulas as adorno and wittgenstein formulated them and then postpost. there

are cryptic tautologies, to lash out to whichever meaningfulness maintained. we have

imminent, immanent, contradictive patches (i.e. the event itself - adorno). we have

dynamism for that is what contingently, accidentally, came to the fore. spitting at once

is choking, relief exists simultaneously with horror, time is unemotive, flesh has an

expiration date. yet it is the world speaking, even the speech, at last, of chlorophyll.

the shocking white fields of blight and acidity of citrus take language down to earth:

"bitten blight of having no nothing having yes of other than collision with where

speech non-claim where words non-claim...from outset onset as was said / dead zones

no not a...nothing ever of...no not on...nothing next to follow...burns allwhile in citrus

flame...paralysis gestures &...breakage of what matter". misspellings give a dadaist

touch to what already intensely, ok., sensuously directionless is or, and, this as

vile as communal referencelessness documents with the exactitude of the crypsis

of this language. Michael McAloran you're da bomb.

.

in his texts Mick (Michael McAloran) curates the [impossibility of representationism anymore], of the societal-political-erotisized-dissociationist-psychotic-postironic-hypercomplexisized-medicotransit- penitentiary-corporate-trans-and or postnational 'world' adressed in his texts then, the last esthetic mirrorings of these wastelands through which we wade, in bleak necessity,in machinationmechanistical catatony, our arts following sinister paths to follow the porncinema our world has become. the paradox is, and it isn't also a paradox anymore, that Mick conceives this inexplicable, indiscernable cryptolinguistic curating [holidayjob] documenting in exactitude that it is no longer possible to follow these worlds of the world like we sit on top of it but we're deeply indebted as well as prey to its capriciocity and haunting presentism, the world over us that is, and Mick bears witness to exactly this precarious position, point, to which all end-arts and anti-estheticisms must dwell finally in unironic splendour of a glitzing decay.

.

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LEE KWO AAD GID

Lee wrote: "Desire can never be deceived and yr work is always moving ahead of both desire and death words of life inflicted on the living and the dying the metaphors create an alien but not alienating universe/There is something being written on the cells of our body between aggregate desire and group fascination the words lead us astray into the distraction of illumination an opening of wounds a healing of chaos and Eros the perpetually intoxicating addictions that flow thru the intensity of yr words is an escape from the reactionary centre out to the margins of radical libidinal inspiration which as you say are outside the human scope which is rapidly coming to an end/The only position to take is one of a misanthrope in unrepresentable space of the whatever/The Talmud its being whatever allows only for the singularity of the godhead and the holy ghost in other words such as it is/Watch for the supreme assault on the thinking fokken zef brain a state of fractured sensibility/Regards and affection Leo Androgyn/"

we take a position like in a choreography in NY off off broadway in that unrepresentable space of the

whatever,the center of the tomorrow dance,where some arbitrary demarcationline between dance

and life long ago breached and manifested in outflows of borderline borderless dancing walking stumbling movements along the pavement as in TADs video “stumbling man” which keeps representing an astute image of how to move if you’re either a cocoscrab or citizin to toronto vancouver kobe yokohama amsterdam rotterdam we negotiate and navigate with radar and fluorescent warpaints and bioluminescence through the alleyways of nowherecity applicable on either center of urbanity like wrens flying in thick,dense bushnels of ligustrum or hawthorn that slide

along those branches as if the’re houdinis posthoudinis in english gardens barbara cartland would have had a nice tearjerker pink book out of it the talmudic multiplicity shall be its infracomplexity.....

“During the 15th and 16th centuries, a new intensive form of Talmud study arose. Complicated logical arguments were used to explain minor points of contradiction within the Talmud. The term pilpul (related to the Hebrew word pilpel, meaning "spice" or "pepper") was applied to this type of study. Usage of pilpul in this sense (that of "sharp analysis") harks back to the Talmudic era and refers to the intellectual sharpness this method demanded.Pilpul practitioners posited that the Talmud could contain no redundancy or contradiction whatsoever. New categories and distinctions (hillukim) were therefore created, resolving seeming contradictions within the Talmud by novel logical means.”|wikipedia

http://youtu.be/WHP7hqcH6Xs

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poetry of disdelusion DAVID MCLEAN

all vignettes of classicism,and then a new one. the derivational poetry of what it all not is,leaves

us piquant poems unveiling dead centers. often a bit fucked up as plazas. David Mclean's poetry

spurrs toward such comments. his poems are concentrated lemmata in which a certain,or two,

"truisms" "get's it",can get it. and it gets it. all confessionalism,thought of an afterlife,heaven or

hell,the thought or idea of a god,even of spirituality,of solidity,are all heavily under fire or yet,

refinedly attacked with arsenic and mould. hell rather is the here and now. only however when the

heavily ecclesiastically burdened notion is bereft of all that: what belief and faith and confession have made of the world. the poetry of david is certainly postInquisitional,if this means all the fucking christian notions and lexicological or exegetical acribic bullshit is cut out of it. perhaps there is even a new inquisatory impulse here. it is the never ceasing curiosity about which moronic actions the society has entangled itself into now,again. if belieflessness acquires contours of zelousness it is also thrown into the dustbin of no return.

perhaps this could be an ideosyncratic feature of the poetry of david mclean. at first sight,also after having read more poems of david,one could be tempted to place the topology of his poetry within the ideological-postideological-nonideological cloud of nihilism,ascetism,logicism,antitheology,

agnosticism,fatalism,hermetism,antipoetry,postpostmodernism,postironicism,neoclassicism,flarf,

antiflarf,anhedonism,deathpoetry,poetry of the endworld,antihumanist poetry,posthumane poetry,

poetry of the dead socius,poetry of the psychotic socius. i think it is all of this and more,yet to name but one of the above monikers as the exhaustive declarative clausule would be excreted by the poetry itself,and,asap. and this abjective reflex seems an ideosyncratic impulse in the poetry of david. an abhorrance of the mundanest things of the world where they show their mediatic poise:

as "élan vital",as a vitalistic yet presumptuous assertion of what is often or and generally thought to be the regulative of the conventional and correctional societal mechanisms as eversomuch "motors" keeping our fucking economy together thereby ruining our fucking ecology as these in accumulative measurements is antropofected detrimental to all other livelihoods on the planet. this, would never be entamised as such in davids poetry yet can be easily derived as one of the major factors driving his poetry. then now we shall leave it at this abhorrance.

the poetry itself is written in an impeccable style of often mere global assertions,or,lighter,hunches,

with which the poems softly begin,and weaving further on these introductive sketches,we are launched along almost athmospheric trajectories,whereby the following assertions each time annihilate the latest one,so that we perhaps hover within a certain nihilist realm,yet if this was said to be the solid regulative of these poems,david would minutiously make clear that perhaps in our perception may lie a nihilism dormant,but that he preferrably shuns any "isms",and leave us with these consecutive derivative denunciations of overly happy-merry-systemy-styley-schooly pinpoints

yet that his,this poetry rather ressorts under,well,under nothing really,this not a devaluation of any sorts and if it is paradoxal that such poetry with that haughty of onset in anywhich way shall keep puking on whatever system or unsystem,then that is o.k.

"the dead travel insanity

safely, this distorted world

is twisted faces

and no sense of location;

it is flux and nipples,

death and the living waiting

we are: memory and empty

falling too far, "

it is remarkable that we could take almost any quote out of david mcleans poetry and we then have a prism,representative,immediately,of the lucidity and at once (david put the plugs in your ears) a kind of mysticism,of,"what there is",and it is kind of an endgame,hilarious more than tragic even if it is tragic,this,all so masterly written is nothing more than a wonder. yet nothing divine !

'in dim forgotte(n)', (Infinity Land Press), reviewed by Aad de Gids

 

MICHAEL MCALORAN LATEST BOOK
(he would gladly say 'last') is quite the thing. reading Michael's texts requires the right mindset beforehand. not a (as a queer moronic Grande English Poet had concocted before one could even read his frêle poems) mandatory listing of 'thou shalt not' and 'thou shalteth' [a 'CAVEAT', I suddenly remember*], but rather is it better to be prepared for a dense poetic form and content A/FRIVOLOUS and particularly NON/HEIDI/ESQUE. content is specifically black, bleak, offered with sharp beaks of relevant than shocking and heinously beautifully worded content regarding the Endworld, escatologic nonplaces and dead worlds, teratologic graphic scenographies for 'everyone to read' eagerly !
[*a warning or proviso of specific stipulations, conditions, or limitations.
"there are a number of caveats which concern the validity of the assessment results"
in LAW: "a notice, especially in a probate, that certain actions may not be taken without informing the person who gave the notice."]
'in dim forgotte(n)', already with the title Michael leaps into a kind of artificial or, what mayeth I know, real Victoriana of lexicology, of malformations and dreamy reminiscences of the old English, Irish, language. (I am the Dutch European.) (I am VERY VERY tolerant.) within the book we find more words maltreated, modernised while antiquated, adding to the strange etherspheres and concrete inframural morgues that are described with as explicite as poetic descriptions. funerary 'cavates', excavations, but in the End-Now world. we're already living in a dead world. the manifestations amass but this is no sign of vivacity. (I am also a devolved complexisized nihilist.) Michael gives text to empty corridors, where you don't know if you're in- or out, up- or down, before- or after, above- or beneath. this affirmative displacement is this status (stasis) texted within thousand formulas.
"an eruption of lung in a roomscape devoid of presence but one...silence otherwise...". "a vague amass of soundless emptiness...". "where to elected to this there was no question put forth nor ever yet asked of...voidal as...struck out...". (19)*
[*within regular double quotationmarks I cite out of Michaels 'in dim forgotte(n)'. pagenumber added.]
the language used here gives reminiscence to Adorno's notorious 'acribia', a dense, tightly cryptic and or undecipherable codex of sentences, within which he spoke in a contradictory and with double negations complex affirmative content with ominous cling. Michael still goes further. where Adorno's last 2 books: Negative Dialektik and Ästhetische Theorie still hoped for new lines, after horrific times, Michael just gives a mimic of 'what there is', the artificial, hegemonial, monomaniacal, hysteric and corporate infantilistic jargons. with Adorno the contradictions gave off meaning of a 'World not living', it was fired by WWII and 'after Auschwitz'. we have experienced hyperevents even heinous after that Horror and thus the texts, in anywhichway Michaels text, give expression almost sideways, if he describes exactly what has happened, what will happen, and even the expectations to those vistas have become obsolete.
"...all manner of sounds to collect the unknown absence a-breathe burns of in sickly vibrant air...blackened the bones collect the rejection of time...ice as...the walls peel slowly revealing a vague texture of nothing...". "bled stone a collapse into what once never was...". (20) "breakage collision stealth of acute dissolve...". (21)
the text gets form after postmodernism. if we follow the sentences in conformatist, conservative, classic ways we stutter upon 'breakages', slits, discontinuities. the sentence, begun in conformative manner, suddenly seems more of an associationist manifesto slice. neologisms document the situation as it has evolved 'in situ'.
I have to reconsider my strategy to review Michaels book. if I continue with this format, it becomes a book about a book. I will find the contoured citations and my comments made then and there. the review will be finished today, to make Michael happy, no ? (a KarlLagerfeldism I picked up on.)
an arrival of Tomorrows targets more the senselessness of it than the 'modern' adage 'this Tomorrow is smoother than that one'. "moth wings aglow in cavity of gait sharp shut...".(22)
"...bled out where to final is to breath's lack of absolve...underwater skull of what once was...". (23) we certainly have here a diagnosis of our time. I have remarked this before but Michael reaches here a pure 'listing' of texted events where they lost almost an informative value but constituate more of a postmetaphysical status of stasis. then to list what there is to [sense] gives an accurate cinematic image of the abandoned, postTschernobyl-Fukushima plazas of irreversible damage. "...carrion equations of silt scuttling across light's streak of tidal unknown" "suffocation of lack...star shadowing...limbs burn in chemical absolve as the blood it courses...".(24) this all isn't journalistic report. doesn't add to the informational warfare. rather than decryptisation, decipherability and even intelligibility these texts are more instinctive, more connected with the senses. in long associationist hauls they leave an impressum on the earth and on the retina. "...semblance shadows cold electric lights that never cease...". "...child wanders the nightscapes of the forever lost...". "...Child forgets all it seethe...barred the windows of a lifeless room from which to view there never should have been...".(25)
'child forgets all it seethe' can be read as 'all it sees' as also 'all it seeths'. an indifference given in by the vulgar times we live in. in the interview preceding the text of the book 'in dim forgotte(n)' the interviewer mentions this child as a new 'character' in Michaels Œuvre, but as I noticed this child is a human remnant in the 'Postworld', sec. the book is edited in four parts with vivid graphic illustrations by artist Martin Bladh. a shorter Ouverture to get to the taste of it; a long, junglist and almost inimpenetrable (yet if there is want, there is result) incessant stream of wordweave and sinister as macabre mise-en-scenes, leaving one not so much tired but surprised by the catascopic catatonic catharsis all exflected in one Haul. UHaul. to finalise still the 'preface' '(i)', there is presented a forbodening eventplaza of becoming.
"...walls everywhere...cigarettes extinguished in the flesh of dawning...yet dawn is nothing ever ever...the screaming never ends....it rocks back & forth in sequence...distances from which unknown...where black is the colour & none is the number...trace of liquid burning..." (28).
(I)
is the thirty page outburst of textual furor, stupor, dolor, noir, torpor, the magmaic chiasms of inintermittent wordstreams and diagnosis infaustus. it never abandons its poetic roots: "..as if were fallen/a candelabra of crystal bone dice turn in grip of ashen sun light gripped by longing spat out upon what once was shadowing/". (33) the speak is of corridors, rooms suddenly awoken to, a scent trail, the Deleuze-Guattarian 'CorpsSansOrganes', a substrate. linguistics bump into it: "/as if to say that/", "till words cascade into void of vacant nullity/". (33) linguistics, either linguistics, lexicology, textLab is as ridicule as radical. we are in the realm of postText. in this stretch of text, in which I had the pleasure of tracking through in my les Tropéziennes purple mules, toenails lacquered in Sally Hansens, Hollywood, acrid acryl yellow, language is the material in exhaustive similarity with what is written, is viscosity, viscerality, visciousness, bijoux boutique visagiste expenditure.
a Postmortem forms an Incidency of what emerges. "/bites it once till regalia of castrated purpose/fingers of dead long rot of all that turned throughout a shadow a minced heart cleft by nullity/". "laughter yes but no/on but no/nothing of on into/static stasis/wrists to slash in psychosial flames/".(37) adverbs gained the power here. their fractuality pythons with what the hell is going on much more acute than the 'Grande Political Words'. language as Necropsy of ourbpostneo tribesociuses: "-speak spells it all out as if to wound stitch shut to burst revealing sinew/". (38) 'Dawn' subsided to a diMethylVinyloid Dawn: "/stone to taste as if to bled mock dawn what light colours of like of which were never claim hereafter solace of one dead tide what secrets to unravel in dim forgot solace nectar of blade bite skinned tide of mercury asphyxiation". (40) 'some sun' catapults us from geocentrism-->antropomorfism---> heliotropism---->alldirectional zonosporo trancedimensional lavaflight. "to eradicate all sound from which foetus echoing bled flays bankrupt necessary an open parameter in some sun". (40)
the Cogito of Michael has its place in a landscape Necroplaza. "into some landscape where to never have never knowing of never being". (41) [Cogito, ergo sum is a philosophical statement that was made in Latin by René Descartes, usually translated into English as "I think, therefore I am". ... The dictum is also sometimes referred to as the cogito.] I have to skip tranches of the text while I could with the same aim cite the whole thirty pages of this Monologue Expulseur. it is part Wordheap, in the most modern way: that it doesn't matter anymore what to say, yet notwithstandingly formulated in an exquise way. intent and content are obvious but possibly not to everybodies liking. it is to mine. that it doesn't anymore matter what to say, to the background of our era. to expulse this, therefor we need this textform. no other would suffice.
'light': "/blind by light's intone breakage film of reflect in mirror chase what of sickness of/" (43). where we can superimpose the text on profitist, sciencetheoretic rivalry: "mechanic broken of where to equate where numeral closure jack-knife upon some gilded crucifixion of malignant streak of blood upon/dead as dead sun dead/". (44) another Cogito summons "to be is reject following onwardly some silenced obsolete it skin of damned weight of pregnant pauses of razor psychosis spitting plumes of scalded flowers of lacerate of dead time of weight of lack/". (45) if there are grammatical, syncopal, omissions than we have to remind you that we bend the language as we like. now I have to edit/quasify, some more. "where to breathe is to vomit". (50) here is a good photography of what a Michaelean text comprises: "...waste attrition it all of less than ever breaks forth to collect of banquet skull teaming with nectar toothless toothed whore of broke jaw emptiness where spe/cial is to outstretch rhytm all sunk devour as of where belittle blood is out of focus nocturne of drought/". (52) 'heap of words', ingrammatical, spellingissues ['broken jaw'], vile content and postPolitic intent: for me this is the Post-Post text required to at least copy paste shards of a putrid social etnology. cataleptic extortionism [a physical condition characterized by a loss of sensation, muscular rigidity, flexity of posture, and often by a loss of contact with surroundings. Also catalepsis.]. "/ideation skins sky abandon of none bleak turning of throughout non-space as momentary corridors dissolve/text+2/not a/not of/nothing in this/fades laughter hilt expels dusts from gilded lung/sickness hunger avarice..." (56). this BLOCKTEXT mirrors Gertrude Steins The Making of Americans, Marguerite Duras l'Amant and Hiroshima mon Amour, Musils der Mann ohne Eigenschaften, Kapielskis Mathematisierung des Todes, Rimbaud, Celan, Celine, Cioran. the Nouveau Roman with Duras, Alain Robbe-Grillet with his 20 pages of description on how a seagull sat on a pole; Georges Pérec with his roman La Disparition, written entirely without the letter 'E'. the word in 'in dim forgotte(n)' (61) 'collideoscopic' we can compare with Guattari's 'chaosmose'. there are also glimpses of Dada and postNeoDada.
in (II) we find a 9 page tome of the same eruptive fumarole of untamed but micro edited texts. "...walls much the same are papers peeling are vellum traces an unintelligible child's drawings in heavy black crayon..." (67). "...eye speaks unknowing as what of till matter stripped of light calling forth where nectar of is the pissed upon from great heights as if there were ever any...meat to collapse into..." (68). the sentence has a knack. Deleuze wrote a book of the Crack-up. Deleuze-Guattari mentioned the geste: 'Connect-I-Cut'. so the sentence moves like a branch. journey = stasis. "...a long dead distance of through corridors of bleak surrender..." (71) which echoes Walter Benjamins Dialektik im Stillstand. a total expressionism, with streaks, smears and holes superimposed upon the text. "time burns deep through a colossus of endless night...cylindrical the breath is vacant...flesh to writhe to meat to bone to marrow turning in an absence of colour...static disclosure to when genuflect is the rot of being in as rat gathers...absentee pelts scattered across the floorboards stained with paint..." (75).if the text is stuttering it is the obstructive transitcongestion and the abstruse of tranceplaza flightlines plus no educational probabilities.
in (ii) the 'postscript', more aforistic than the previous texts, it becomes clear that, whichever definition is given to the text, it is uncalled for and noninstructive. there I found postreligiosity, insectoid prayers, affirmative areligiosity (Michael is born in Belfast), lemmata describing the void of whichever flights. "tendency to trace a given nocturne/absentia of/what once was never once/through the cracks in the sky come silhouettes of amber prayers returning to the host of it/insect sickness claims/" (87). moreover: absent postReligiosity, as religiosity has no weight, had no and will never have one. "...to erase of it/cold fragrance of artificial lights/burns of foreign sentience of/here the nothing there another of/bound bones in winter gutter/striation of what once was pulse/absent secrets of the/slashed out/all sung all to be sung for as if to gift the night its treasury/in the vicious air to taste of it/bleeding out the one once known...
I think this is another fantastic Irish poetic book by Michael Mc Aloran. he loathes such qualifications. let's say: I've read around his book philosophically, read his books and the ones with similarities. it is the genre that is my cup of tea... 

The book itself is available to purchase here

Available from Veer Books, 'Till Claimed', a poetry chapbook...

Now available from Veer Books (U.K), my poetry chapbook, "Till Claimed"). Samples from the book can be found here £6/ 50pp/ Matte Cover/ Artwork by me from 2003 oil on canvas/ Introduction by Aad de Gids...

The Introduction By Aad de Gids to 'Till Claimed', Veer Books 2019

 

There is a kind of meticulous nihilism going around and we're born with it, it is spooned in. This, then, 'organogramme', supersphere, hypersphere, antiesthetics, punksensibilities, are made possible by the continuous onslaught on our retinas of nothing but a turn for the worse the world had taken say, since the 60s. From out of this there came a reaction then of postmodernism, let us call it that. After 11 sep 2001 postirony and hypercomplexisation, psychotic societal derangement and dissociationism became consolidated. The art acting and mirroring against this were born. Mc Aloran's writings were never in another tradition. Positivity doesn't seem an exhaustive clarification method anymore. Elucidation is gone, the need for it gone, everyone walks with their smartphone to the street nowhere expecting amelioration. Just raw existence, survival as in a chimpanzee war. “I take from the dogs what will/ what will//feeding/[//]feeding//fucking the life//from the idle light’s//indifference”. To just call this as etherial as crass poetry 'nihilism' would be a reductive approach to it. It seems more an affirmation of 'what is', 'what it is'. And it is all not so nice. “I lack//I lack the colourings//I spit the dew//from an un-harvested mouth//scattered //ablaze with nothing” Here we see where our interventionism is, if still possible, allotted to. Secundarity and contingency. Here we have poetry as sublime as it is irreversibly constative. The nights are 'read' as 'nights on earth'. We're hostages of what we're surrounded by. Here we see what is left for us, as non-space, spaces as non-descript as indecisive, starkly associating with bleakness and stupor nevertheless. All 'actions' are redundant and the world is chaotic, cosmic, chemified and fraxated to mere pumice, even our deaths are buried (not: 'our deads') within unceremony and masscalculatoric machinations. At the same time Mc Aloran describes the groundscape, psychoscape of the diagrammatic contours of the space we die in, live in, not so much difference anymore. Actually, it seems in the reading of TILL CLAIMED I seem to now have stumbled upon a central axiom of this collection of concisely and superpreciously worded poems that, to live almost means to be dead nowadays. There is no difference anymore. But as Mc Aloran indirectly yet with exactitude presses a knifing diagnosis upon it it appears that, all 'communication' now is directed toward oneself; here a systemic unglossiness incorporated with the eyes of the dead, still longing to fulfill an organic deep seated functionality, yet there was not much to see or rather: there was so much to see it swamped the whole vista, perspectivist glaciality unto chill. “fluidity of death/[//]nocturne//I-skinned of breath/ aligned//& the knock turns//to the close of//the fist unsung where teeth obscene//glint in the absence//none less to follow on from//split///surface//unbridled nothing//ripping the cull from the bones of I/eye//where the winds//scattering//breath of the solace of/[//]no solace/[//]merely the silence of/…” Again, a central as acentral passus with heady content. Solace = silence. A microscript of a decomposition. Viscerality as metaphor for death = life. This point-for-point description of a decomposition at once comprises the diagnostics of our psychotic sociuses. While Mc Aloran's poetics has a rather becoming elegance this particular form of poetry runs the risk of being deemed 'hermetic'. As does my personal style of poetry so different from Mc Aloran's yet weighed with the same infusion of punk-esthetics. And where this also could suggest explosiveness and blunt aplomb it is rather contextual and semantical that we have not so much chosen, but were chosen by the language steered from trauma and posttrauma, worldparticipation and being witnesses of threatening and bleak times, that suffuses our writing skills with radical choices. In Mc Aloran's poetry there is certainly a leaning towards death but as we've seen, this at once also means an inclination towards life. Adorno in citing another: “life doesn't live”. Perhaps with new generational shifts upcoming will there be another literature possible although it is hard to see how this shall crystallize. “vague the silence//(collapsed/[//]nothing…)//vertigo breath//& the//jarring breath(en)//dead stone//vacuous I die/ I//laughterling caress//sweet night of bloody earth/ waste//& the drip-feed sun//& the night//balancing on a//crescendo//of subtle apocalyptic”. The red wavely line beneath the word “laughterling” already says it all. We have to invent new words to stay accurately skintight to the surfaces of the world. The surfaces of the words and of language are on the move. Not alone seismic shift they but glacial and uncomfortable polar...

--Aad de Gids, 16/ 09/ 2018

The book itself is available here

A review by Aad de Gids of 'Cold Zero Reflect', VoidFront Press 2019

 (while the content of Michael's 'new' book 'coldzeroreflect' isn't for the weak of mind nor for rigid formalists, its introductory phrase reveals musicality and an opening to 'sensibility', 'sensitivity', the realm of the senses as what could be heard and smelled alike.) "traceless.../vapour tones...". (the auditive entry goes on) "//all spoken for/asked of/reduced to stammering in neon exigent...". (this lemmatum [as the article in an encyclopedia] ends with) "utterance/utterance of...". (here we see that what has started with a kind of invitation to the senses and proceeds herein, an auditivity, ends with an indeterminacy, worse, an indifference, which nevertheless shall appear to be one of the accuratest mirrorings I have ever encountered in poetry, of 'what it is', this world now, this fucking world now, what the hell that is.)
(on page 8 we see the interesting suffix "(etc.)" out of which a terrific, terrifying, frightening and laughable worldvision speaks, not laughable in the sense of ridiculous but bc of its sheer radicality. to kind of reinforce that still it also speaks of an "absenteeism" and this is the delectable as horrid outlook we simply have if we look in clarity around us.) (Michael doesn't shy away to show the stuttering, stumbling, rambling of the language itself:) "an abort of....// shadow of...meat trinkets of....". (here we see the ample indifference of [he invites us to chose for ourselves] any word to describe any situation almost in inarbitrary manner, random manner. because it doesn't matter anymore. postMao Deng Xiaou Ping said: "it doesn't matter if you're bitten by the dog or the cat". and now we have TrumpPutin. in a sense Michael words the status even after this.)
"(the) skeletal peak a solace of unknown orchids...// denuded silence...". (a landpsychoscape of vegetality is sketched here where the vegetality isn't something inferior to the antropocene yet we bend, we better lay low now, in a denuded silence.)
(where we find ourselves in is in morguelike, streetity athmosphere like, environments, and the litterary voyage is an exact mappology of these catacombes, crypts, but not as how we imagined these to be. no it is what now is around us.) "echo-chamber of...
(as if to say…)".
(here an indeterminacy, an uneagerness is described. of course this is anathema to regular 'poetry'. but the gatekeepers of that poetry do not matter. here we have the
ravenous new descriptive style of Michael, for him also in a more 'aerial style', which in the mean time doesn't falter for an icy exactitude, a matter-of-factly inconclusiveness left open as the wound of the world.) "oxidate shadowings given to astringent...// cold shale of the...// bodily the body degorged of sound...". (this 'matter-of-world', a materiality, is also caught in the saturative titers of "oxygenation". the very matter is astringent. Michael discovers the sheer chemification again, even inmidst human enterprise.) "oxygenate(d)... // (“no, not of...”) // blind light of (the) electro-surreal kissing the tungsten teeth of blindness..." (we're in the mines. we're in the trenches, we were never out of them. chemification and metallurgy of the human endeavour. in the sense that we do not so much shape the world [even if we do with the climate], the world regains its place and rechemifies what already chemical was only executes a drastic redistribution. hardcore metallic ores come to the fore. [Tungsten, or wolfram, is a chemical element with symbol W and atomic number 74. The name tungsten comes from the former Swedish name for the tungstate mineral scheelite, tung sten or "heavy stone".] as hardness is chosen for metaphor, there is somewhere a softer side. here the poetry of Michael circumvents around.)
"terse light/sheared speech/colloreality unsung devouring...// spun (as if to) lies bloodily abandoned...".
(to reconstruct what with incisive poetry can be pinpointed silent witnesses can fulfill 'the descriptive landscape'. the poetic description loses itself willfully in what circumstantially is presented. then Michaels poetry helps to reveal almost as in 'écriture automatique' what is hidden in plain sight. here we have a kind of forensic research of a place delict: the world with which we grew up. a 'collaterality' is the almost accidental coincidence of different 'events', and all the other old-fashioned regulatives have become preposterous and obsolete: causality, development unto a better goal, an ethical imperative. Michael shows that these aren't still yet absolved, not met, not reached. there comes no replacement, just this accurate descriptive power to fragmentatively and in an esthetic theatrality denoted tanatoscape of "world", much more modern than what was and is offered in marketing strategem presented 'litterature'.)
"with from out of which...// silentee(ism)...// struck marrow what edge of it as given to follow naught...// traceless senseless recollect...// bind (the) wound (the) broken body vocal...// trace left neither right neither right nor left...";
(here the almost threatening [within a litteral text notwithstanding] of 'stopping the words' and the flirtation, threatening, with precisely the continuation of the words makes Michaels poetry inclusivistic and visionary, cut to the schizoid domain of our sociuses now.) "trace left neither right neither right nor left..." . (this fragment contains a hilariousness and if this is clearly visible then also a postnihilist absence of even this notion [nihilism] . it remains a philosophical question if we have builded ourselves an ontology, latticework of existence, at all.)
"trace left neither right neither right nor left...". (if there is satiricism in here, than it is also postsatiricism, postironicism. why? with satire we still try to restore something, enriched as it is now with its vulnerability shown embodied, incorporated. yet here we see the accurate desription of a socius, societal complex, hyperurbanity hystery, as it is. 'what it is'. 'what there is'. "the 'there is' is being recovered' (Deleuze-Guattari). after the causality [which still implies improvement], after irony [off off broadway has been gentrified, disneyfied]. it is postmodernism and then still also after that.)
"(the) eye’s deceive it spoken a closed fist of // empty promise...".
(there is an acribic hermetism in this formula [as with Adornos writing] but then also an irreversible cadencing, repetitionism, as in poetry. a paradoxical 'closed fist of empty promise'.)
(furtheron we have some ideomatic lemmata symptomatic and facilitative towards Michaels irreplaceable style:)
"echo-echo chamber of drought wherein (the) closure of what bitten// ever of/ bound as if unto what edge of clime irrespective...";
"(start-stop then...)...// the bitten fingernails of drawers unopened in // rooms of acrid// final waste....".
(here we find a certain stasis described ['echo-echo chamber of drought', words as 'closure', 'bound', 'drawers unopened', 'start-stop then...', etc.] which covet to encompass a kind of Endjazz. we think of Walter Benjamins "Dialektik im Stillstand" and Beuys's "Und jetzt brechen wir den Scheiße ab" in his artwork 'Grond' [ironically the Dutch word for the German 'Grund' and English 'Ground']. in neowording Michael seems to treat language as subject to vortices: "shadowling".)
"circumference of flame from which to inhale...// all sense devoured...// glisten of flesh...
// of meat cast to (the) hyenic...".
"close (the) final door to be done...// in anaemic shadow of...// silenced from (the) once to (the) hereafter-long...// cold currents of stripped flesh ever...".
(as well a dynamism as a finalism is documented here. it is the finalism of decay which isn't linear, which is quite dynamic and forensic. in this sense Michaels poetry is an entomology of the future and a futuroscope of now. "the histories of now" [Michel Foucault].)
(IF, we thought the poetry of Michael McAloran already is a dense [while the above section is written in more aerial style, both qua syntax as per semantics, as I allowed it to appear in my review in denser form] we shall be utterly surprised by what follows. WE, US, and.....me. I have read Gertrude Steins 'The Making of Americans', James Joyce's 'Ulysses' [unfinished], far more challengeing several 'nouveau roman' romans: Alain Robbe-Grillets 'Le Voyeur' [with in it, the 30 pages long description of how a seagull sat on a pole in a harbour] , Marguerite Duras's books [with in it, copious descriptions in annoying yet when acclimatised, narcotic descriptions of a life in the Mekong Delta, of a loveaffair, etc., her 'Hiroshima mon Amour' [as well as the almost unbearable film made of it], her filmed book [by Alain Resnais] 'les Années dernières à Marienbad' plus Géorges Pérec's 'la Disparition' wherein he describes an entirely intelligible book WITHOUT THE LETTER 'E'. Robert Musil's thousands of pages of 'Der Mann ohne Eigenschaften' [man without features] [unfinished] and Célines, Célans, Ciorans resp. vindictive journey to the end of the night; hermetic poetic figments; quadrupulted nihilistic aphorisms ['de l'Inconvénience d'être Née' -- of the inconvenience to be born],
Kapielski's 'Mathematisierung des Todes' an almost brutalist, dadaist, nearly webby incomprehensable tractate of death, foreseen in formulas. so I have read some of the most austere, weird, estrangening, outerworldly texts but nothing, NOTHING, could have prepaired me for the immensely textual onslaught which awaited me simply by turning a page. and ploughing through this text of Michael I got accustomed to the sheer linguisticity of the language. a BALLISTIC influx of seismic trembling avalanches of language nowhere and seemingly never to be stopped anymore. and alone already in this, we find this genial, supermirroring, [Hubble] telescoping, Zeisz's microscoping image of 'what the hell is going on', and even a supplementary dimension outside of this emblematum, this enduring flood of words so intricately as also indifferently mimicking [fill in any word] the disappointment, approval, reinforcement, fracking, undermining of all the developments which make our geodesic, geopopulistic, geopolitical barrenscape visible in this extraordinarily FORM.)
"…asks of…ever of the bind-breathe…fallen unto measure of…spat out the wings of long forgotten else…night for blood & a…cold depth of denuded all stepped alone…breakage nullity of herein where not of a in or of nor nothing be…strip solace…broken bones scattered across rotting floorboards…dense will end rising up to splendour eye’s disregard…a sentence a frenzy of…turns into cannot other than where to have neither of the held close the door…bathes in the eclipse of meat…hyenic/ the blood to flow…effortlessly consumed …where traceless of what in of/of the desire for the garotte…spoken of through silence break/ shrift…the shattered teeth of exodus & the laughter of echoing in the core of breath…reflexive…taint without longing breakage colours of all spoken for…silence as if there were any other than where to sever/no/a ghost-limb fallen silt…passes through one surface unto another…till trace forgotten never of the spe/cial bound by walls constructed of…glass works & the snare of teeth breakage valve of purposeless driven by the desire to final…laconic…no nothing of that yet of the disappearance of yes what matter as if to choke unspoken…dead as…rip of flesh in an outcry of blood & meat…the vocal of it sounds out from out of severance…nothing of the matter a taste of for it forgotten erasure pageant depth kisses of the forgotten…the null light permeate…there go the fingers useless implements…flung to the dogs of…as all that be was never once…neither from the outset nor the outset other than…plumes of…reflections of…nothing…of…".
"…of meat sink further unto…to the…gathered up in tune in turn of bereft exigent…breakage languish as the phlegm fills up the lung of pulse…strips away the skin of it the eyes ablaze some circus dreaming…shard upon shard swallowed down to birth the echo of redundant soundings…all blackened of where nothing…sacred teeth & the skin tacked to the fence-posts of some sudden desire…as close all tongue in dense apparition of expel…through which…from out of…dead-end traces & of/a to be gone…all is of one unsaid as an echo breaches…extracted fingers beseech upon one knee in the dark as the screw bites into membrane’s children… cannot…nothing ever…there nothing there in a stance light end of broken fallen sickness to caress as of the flesh that carries it as an unwanted foetus…it eye lapse…here the eye this is not the overture merely the…casts out yet no answer…none shall…frozen limbs caress the endless night…till sickened of & unto the flight of oblivion where to have is to bruised fruit meats the colours of which…cast out yet no other of…as broken the body vocal is the shit-stained garments of speech unclaimed…as if to…not a…of…it closure speech lost to the non-being in a head of dense sand it dwelleth…shiv tight blend of razor syllabus unclaimed…till broke frozen…pissing as if to say it upon the papyrus claims of sheets crumpled like broken swans…till further nowhere…endless nowhere…zero as the reflect in the… exhalations of cigarette smoke…nothing onwardly exhalations into a transparent room of spoke unspoken…
…cold reflect of blood shed where to…genuflect of some final reaching for…slap to the face begins again…having forgotten cannot…it-surface of blind light reflect of null that cannot…broken glass rupture through which it can or only through the eyes of the silence broken only by…torn to shreds in bask of territory…spitting out the shit force-fed it can only…never yet as…tension light arrested flesh the body broken entity of nothing ever in where trace of languish collapses into foreign…taste waste attrition…bone dice a winter pageant…the roots reach for the nothingness as if else were to be of any…spit tongue lapse…dense accord…there is laughter yet no more…begins again false promise remembers…rat reflect…rat from out of which…keener the eye of some ballast a frozen fragment …dense what will in salve no nothing of the blood…froze light breathe…black casket room of nowhere out as if there ever could have been…spills of entrails from eviscerate a soundless speech neither the speechless nor the following after…hyenic the blood continue to flow until…bled out…nothing of it black polka soundless penetration vibrate of…sees eye see…not a…nothing for this… nothing of that or…ever of the taste of shit in the mouth in the reek of fumes arising from the virgin sands freshly placed before in any given hourglass…as kicked from once of one throughout kicked from one until what of in ever till…as the bleed of which is ever the closure wound non-viable…all as sung through a talus closure of the bloom of razor discharge cascade of breathless speech of the words that never could… ".
(in my, so generously by Michael to me presented book, this absolutely breathless as asphyxiating, overpowering as intravenous, mining operation project desire rapids narrows, textual detextualising attaque of any unprepaired 'reading', goes on page 20-47, instilling in the mean time an attunement as in listening to unforgiven music, free jazz, Yoko Ono, Plasmatics, John Cage études australes', all, aleatoric music with clangs dissonantly following upon other dissonant clangs, etc. that music and this text accomplish a kind of druginduced haze, narcotic high, Dublin (Lyon, Phoenix, Bangkok) bad drugs mosaical night, postmedicated stupor, torpor, rigor, crypsis, stasis, chorea, pogo, epileptoid episodic ellipsophobic Endreading.)
(followed by a tome of again aeronautic, LSD-cosmonautic, chaoscomatose aperçus to the equally stupefying stratagems of neoCapitalist, neopostTrotzkist, neopostMaoist, designs of DubaiBeverlyHills societies with their SaoPaulo, Rio, Manaus, Medellin, Caracas, Djakartalike favelas, barrios, slums. so if there is any violence in the text so much the better. its relevance as poetry is measured after this: a supermirroring of the
hypercomplexisized weave of our leaden, thungsten, besnowed societies, the valutas covered in the finest nanodustings.)
(we have taken any encyclopedic or narrativistic or metatheoretic lettrist work and shaken that up so its words came tumbling down into a big pewter vessel,then took the words randomly in Adolph Wöllfli-style as disregulative dense (nevertheless) figurative lemmatum [think the articles of an encyclopedia], then, this, was and is a new (satiric dynamic) lemmatum, tome, of the world, now, 'worldling'.)
"...cold chase of breakage what of till dense ocular closure tomb dissolve listless design of what which seethe in black light whereof of broken collapse into dread what matter vacant to pose upon in shattered mirror of recollect a dry season of a teeth of sky where once closure discharge effortlessly outspoken a deft eye claim of which desirous embalm what as if to echo-none cold chalice of forgotten bled as it must whereof some talus lightless stricken of what speech reclamation from dregs what sudden nothing of to gain all spun alack ever of if to ever-fragment steel closure effortless design not a trace of lung extinguished in rot of rat where being rot cold zero reflect stillness unto breach birth nothing collect spun lest of will it all whittle it all down to a point of light displaced seemingly to adjust a shudder a mockery laughter of upon where none only surface tension of some abort closure discharge eats where in nothing in or ever much cold spasm disregard it none stammers upon whereof in eye of spectre disregard it once more a recollect a breakage of light ever to return to swim in nothing ever of beyond surface tension that cannot be altered other than through breakage point cold syllabus a nothing more once more as once in dread what speaketh to get it over with till once more in hyenic a body a pulse a strip of null redeem in surrogate waste in absurd closure of unsaid ever of reflect a temperate bloodless field of a scattering of murder of outstretched wings black as was or once whereby till fragment shatter of bones to silenced never a sound of in purity of expectancy expel where drift of is intent given through desire it-lock nothing drift of eye what wither of cold once more cold temperate it shines in broken nocturnes null to flow throughout in vibrate of steel shimmer breakage nothing repeats itself cold once more steel once more an it sarcophagus & lock turned bustle of here & now erase all reduced to whisper tangents null & of till turn beyond into none a closed reap of winds cascade of where scrags of meat devour themselves subtle temperate not a trace of less than was before eye dies it what forgotten bitter pips of forgotten resurgence sickness to breathe beyond nothing of in vocal that compels desirous after-math closed wound in excreta bleed a rim a shattered sun a leakage of transparent blood impenetrable ice inserted into where fresh wound & drift of null echoing out forgotten spasm dead end a pit a nothing ever of ventured lack no nothing ever of it…".
(iconisation of classic use of prose into the haphazardly placed words [here and there and then more here than there] as daring new esthetic plazas, nevertheless demanding space as newer punkfunkier niche of s(t)ayingpower. we can take any slice, choose random beginning and accidental end and illustrate herewith the urgency of both prose, poetry, world and art and the reversal and negation of it.)
(after this as terrifying as releaving BLOCK in the third part of aperçus we find a now almost enbalming formula wherein the language immanently [imminently] destructs itself in usage:)
"the scattered teeth of syllabus arch devouring its own purpose".
{I can now safely conclude my review of Michael McAlorans 'coldzeroreflect' with some zealous words about how the threatening of the teeth of the night embody a sure affirmation of any evenementiality. the brutalist suddenness of certain catacombic surfacialities form the microaccurate as well as visionary universe indigoscoping of what happened before and has never left.)
"…in a strip of skin neither pressure nor dissolve/ as final out of in echo-echo neither the valve the circus pageant/ a dressage of tears flung to the dawn light echo in of which/ flung to the dogs the hyenic the amber naught cold chase some never of laughter all long/ a bitten cleft into where to into/ feeds upon/ struck out…".
"…astringent teeth of a bled carcass of kaleidoscopic waste/ given to where nothing of a whisper a breathless desire for the one thing adamant/ a steel of clipped wings ablaze as catascope revisited births a nullity of breathless landscapes & corridors meshed as one till closure of final door/ as form stare cold white flash of…".