Marcowolf’s Blog

Envelope Love Poem

Write this in the address window of the envelope:

(For added authenticity it should be typed)

Your Lover’s Name

   Your House Number & Street

      Your Town/City

        Your Postcode

           Your Country

Next to the address window write the following message:

(This should be handwritten,

and  as untidily and disjointedly as possible,

to indicate the writer’s inner turmoil)

“No longer at this address

        Disappeared out of my life

                Please return (crossed out)

                        Return to Sender

The darkness

The sun has gone down on empire

now, on the good and the evil, and

on our empirical empire, empires

of centre, and eagle, and lion, and

red, and of the sun. Only the stars

now remain in strips of white neon.

And then comes the darkness unlit

which crowds out the contours and

edges and false-moves and guilt

and signposts and rulebooks and

gonnegtions, and even networks

and structures, so that the lights of

the skyscrapers (‘only’ visually, not

technically, or mnemonically) hang

in the air, not as an enlightenment,

but lanterns and glow-worms and 

wild-eyes, but also not-onlies. So

darkness comes then, emerges

(it could even sometimes be said),

from light and as it emerges I want

to go with it to discover truth, not

with falseness of torch or matches

that eat their dark way into skin,

but with the eyes of the nocturnal,

and hands of the calloused, sifting

dirt under nails themselves turning

dirty and bloody in the finding of it,

this torn truth, these shard-strips of

collage, finding themselves at last

in their juxtaposing for the first and

only time in their and our history;

or  black words on a black screen

that can only be grasped, and then  

only for seconds, as a roll-over (or

palimpsest).

                   I don’t know what truth

is yet, or if I will find it, or even if it

can ever be found, or which of the

above is the best way there, or if

there is only one way, or if I must  

find other ways, or if others will

help me to tread these other ways;

but what I do know is if there is a

thing such as progress, these are.

On  Poetics

If

Poetics,

the whole

Playing Field

of it, (personally,

I’d prefer a Forest,

but  I think it is a Playing Field,

although I’m not sure that it’s level)

can’t be mown, fertilised and marked out

poetically,

in Poetry,

what use is it?

(Poetry, I mean.)

A Graphic representation of the first 100 grey eminences classified in influential order

Imagine one expanse (this memo GE1) divided into 100  unequal,  

unsymmetrical parts, which should be interlinked,  and indeed,

indivisible,  and without obvious visible joins or boundaries, nor

awkward gaps. The effect of the whole should be a) aesthetically

pleasing, or, at the very least b), emotionally satisfying, as well as, in addition, morally acceptable, or what is deemed to be such within the prevailing social climate. The first, most important, representative section (No. 1) will very possibly, or even should, be several times larger than the hundredth (No. 100). The expanse should, of course, remain (grey), and discreetly (and tastefully)

i        n       v        i         s        i         b        l        e   at all times.

(It is essential for certain invisible persons that the whole art work becomes invisible as soon as possible.)

It is essential for the rest of us that it does not.

Sky

ONE

roof with

reach for,

TWO WORDS

into another storey

word onto word,

The process continues

THREE MORE WORDS

which is building itself)

(so resembles an edifice

-there’s no stopping it

The process has started

NOW THERE ARE FOUR

(Joey Kosuth did it, too.)

by (now, for) Gertie Stein.

Five words in a line

What the hell’s the attraction?

What’s with always five words?

F      I      V      E      WORDS

F      I      V      E      WORDS

Ideology – a poem

One unfunny thing about ideology

is that it’s invisi

Another, that no one is immune.

It contexts, contages, con-cages everyone.

None has sufficient weaponry to defend against it.

Forcefields already infected from within go about their un-

conscious duties. And the principle of attack as best defence is

futile, the intellectual equivalent of a stealth bomber losing itself on the

screen, never finding the target it was supposed to be searching, searching,

ser……

And there are no bastions of sanctuary. Nowhere

where non-players can run, shouting pax or some other

outdated subsumed talismanic utterance or utterances. To be

neutral is itself part of a fair-play ideology, whose existence or status

as ideology is challenged/disputed/contested, to the death in some cases.

Yes, no one on the inside is immune.

Looking through the dark tinted glass from the outside, you see it all.

So, let’s suspend hostilities, you and I.

Let’s make a deal.

If I tell you what your ideology is,

Will you tell me mine?

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