Stalking
In the dark
Pre-date
T&F
ear
(both)
I just fucking ran
It is in your best interest to do
the same.
If you falter
He catches you:
A house cat
domesticated beyond instinct
pierces the skin of
a mouse
But he doesn’t know
why

I didn’t want to kill it
Just get my kicks

what’s this for?
Hell Bitch?
Fucking Hell Bitch.

sweet Sunday evening
the road became an
aquarium for the fish
of tomorrow

outlook bleek.
Cower!  Retreat!
He’s coming and his
word can melt your
heart but not in a
good way.
The way hot iron meets butter.

the worse is his
tiny beaty eyes
rolling through a
SOUNDSCAPE
We touched and we
ran.

Duchamp
a place on which to stand
a Paradigm if you will
Repossessed
Fragmented
and Distributed like bread amongst the hungry
What will they eat?  If man cannot live on break alone?
What most people fail to see
is that the cake was reject scraps
mostly, thoroughly burnt
charred as fiends
poisoned by Stalinist agents
Where will you piss?  If the urinal’s an Art?
I heard drinking your own piss is healthy
and most British people have dreams of having tea with the queen
So choose a profile
A notion to fit
Or reinterpret perception
and take a piss of it

Eyes heavy
Weight to bare
Nose red as
Stallion hair
Mouth sliding like tectonic plates
Ears sniffing Mind
contemplates

faces are stories
with ends
beginnings
and middles
but not in that order

and don’t try to read these stories like Harry Potter and the Philosopher’s Stone because they aren’t children’s books
gaze among not through
absorb faces
and let them absorb you
don’t expect conventions
just conversations
just confrontations
and in the air, suspended by mono-filament(i went to school to learn that word),
a complex language is making calculations
faster than the ABS on someone’s death car
don’t expect to survive
When the Real breaks the line
your present will plummet so cut your head open so it has somewhere to go

Cohen is coming, John told me
He asked if I had my tickets yet
I don’t
I doubt I’ll get tickets because my lizard is feeling ill

i have to write 1500 words

on visual culture

on socio-political implications on art

or lack thereof

or idealistically

or bread on the table

or cake

and who gets the cake

when other can’t even have bread

and who paints a masterpiece with their cake

or at least with it in their belly

and who leaves their masterpiece undone, never finished or not existing

because they don’t have any bread

and who takes the bread and realizes within it contains all of the beauty in the world

and who is dissatisfied with cake; thinks it should have more icing

and who sneezes into their cake hoping to plant seeds but the plants that grow are CUBES

and whose sneezes are blue and gold and sprout genius

i hate academic papers

]]> http://bryanguenther.wordpress.com/2009/03/09/44/feed/ 0 bryanguenther http://bryanguenther.wordpress.com/2009/03/04/42/ http://bryanguenther.wordpress.com/2009/03/04/42/#comments Wed, 04 Mar 2009 21:58:45 +0000 bryanguenther http://bryanguenther.wordpress.com/?p=42 ]]>

fading waning feels like
training for a race I never signed up for
nor know the planning committee
I don’t want their pitty
I’d rather grit
because there’s more than that pit
I know it
because I’ve seen it
& dont sway me with your rhetoric, telling me it’s
there because i know it
I know it exists and so do you.
Glue – Ambivalence – Gravity
Drink your tea
And I’ll drink your toes

potent aroma of
coffee fills the
lecture hall and
mingles with the
chatter.  Warm rubs
the atmosphere, Joy
the mind
significant colors and lack
thereof inform us that
we are beautiful.

1

Writing it’s like slight movements of the wrist
Parralleled by quakes, quivers, quarks.
From a mound, one of which
Without knowledge collapses dead.
Deflated like a broken heart.

And the Gap lengthens
Over time but neither understand.
Neither comprehend it
Or each other.

2

Ali where are you?
Keep growing, be showing
Your interests posted on your
soul
We know our grabs are in vein
________Blood_________
sniff, pop, twang

Give me my head back
.                yogurt
was my first thought

Like a wrench used as a
bludgeon
To mutate in the name of hate
–trade it for a bratwurst
in the name of futility

3

doubt
picking, no hammering
hammering although nothing
NOTHING
is there.  There is
nothing is there is

and it persists like a
miner who is too young
to know what he is
mining for.

4

shades of grey
remind me there is no color
only people
only this

5

we pass

saturated in ramparts
doused in insecurity
there’s no blanket
like the one that blankets mortality