Multipost, improvisation, drawing, dollar poems, chalk, death threat redux, links, etc, as I feel like

Today

Today, free at HBC Chenoweth

Today

Listen to Improvisation 5-16-2017 by conspiritech #np on #SoundCloud

The threat has been re-sent, exactly the same essentially, but no “via: oecd.org” this time, instead, “Mailed by: rentmen.com” which the front page says is a mail escort service. Do not know if this is an attempt to get me to take it as less sincere psyops, or more sincere threat (like “we can pay someone to do this”). Either way, it’s still utterly unclear what they want me to not do, nor what my sister possibly could have done, not who is speaking. 117 pm eastern. Some but not all details at:

https://lostinmist.wordpress.com/2017/05/15/backspin-slot-machine-enigma
(in the comments) Planning a more in depth story about this essentially when I feel like it.

I feel comfortable among the many eyeballs, as I am well rooted here and have spoken of this much already.

[edit: sound cloud thing does work even in wordpress app, if you FIRST click ‘listen in browser’ THEN play.]

Ziggomatic Keys ( * & Synaptic Syntactic and Really Fantastic & * )

Huntsville poet and novelist Ian McLeod says of the first draft: “They’re both good, but the Jabberwocky section in the Ziggomatic Keys book was some fantastic verse–you touched on (or perhaps impaled and nuked from orbit?) a number of important subjects and problems without coming off as too didactic, which is not an easy thing to accomplish and is always rewarding for the discerning reader. Your imagery is vivid–dreamlike and nightmarish, as appropriate.”
“Ziggomatic Keys ( * &  Synaptic Syntactic and Really Fantastic & * )”
Will be through Amazon’s review process in approximately twelve hours, in time for the arrival of the first 70 postcards. Now I’ve just gotta hack on my landing page at psychicfuguestudio.net! How Exciting! I’m really excited! La! Send address to cooper.dozier@gmail.com to get a postcard (as noted before. Be the first! no takers yet). Card blanks 75 cents each minimum 10. Ziggomatic Keys will be $4.49 since amazon said that was likely to maximize my earnings. I had thought to do $5.99. There are extra spaces that aren’t in the real subtitle, because apparently (I think) those sequences of symbols are illegal.

[Update amazon link is: http://www.amazon.com/Ziggomatic-Keys-Synaptic-Syntactic-Fantastic-ebook/dp/B01A3P9TSK

or http://amzn.to/1Klzoyz ]

 

2nd Review In!

2nd review in! I now have a ranking of 4.5 instead of 5. Here’s the Goodreads: The Driftwood of Our Lives Washed Up on Some Foreign Shore

“A delightful degree of disorientation is a perfect way to describe this collection of poems.”

The reviewer being Liz: Liz Profile
#27 best reviewer on Goodreads according to her profile.
Liis Thinks Book Review Blog

DO NOT MARRY BUT FUCK

The music of the mice was always going to put you a little off kilter
But each day the storm passed, and with each passing of the storm, the giant red spot went further off
The music of the mice was of the eerieness of the sunlight on the day before you meet your doom
And in the mines of Moria, the passing notes became the demonic monsters of hatred
And in the elven forest, the passing notes became the ethereal trill of awe
But playing on your harmonica and harmonizing, you take no notice of impending events
Each and every witch way, the horcrux was but of the appearance of a lonely lowly onion
And speaking as a witch, I say to you thus:
—– do not diminish but screw, do not marry but fuck, do not recover but imbibe, do not respond but get down; every witch way is the path to ecstatic peace, while every cross way is the path to unending sorrow; the fascitis of the jaw is as the neuralgia of the cerebellum; in all of it smoke got in your eyes, and the lightning up of the hippocampal cells betokened burgeoning health; but seeing the rabid masses coming for you, depart through your tunnel, and never must you return home
~ But speaking as of the which ones but not as if who but as if the other, but also that, and on occasion otherwise, the ever felicitous me of We of All the Small Ones averred thusly:
—– in it there were flocks of meandering populaces and each as of the other became the gems of one anothers’ hearts; the gobbledygook of the planes notwithstanding, the great elder outer old ones were napping this eon, and so we were left to be killed only by each other, not by the debilitating THEM, and in all the whalings of the African continent, our birds denoted failure, and in failure we rejoiced, having ever something more to do, and not as of which but of now, we must go
~ and in the chthonic twilight we averred and gamboled on into the swamp, and the drama not piling as we had no one left to us, we did not care, nor did we give a fuck, nor did we give a shit, nor did we give two rats (although we did give about half a rat), for failure was our fate, and the indifference of the others could not be contested, for thus our standing had long been lost
And confidence gaining we went on to entrance, and marketing on our merry way became different from what we had been, and oh, in so many ways

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The Broad Avenues of the Bright Dawn

Snapping through the lists

Deleting everything

Running out of ideas

Locking down all avenues of creation

Triggering the answers

When all things are known,

There is nothing left to say

Cutting off all privacy

Derision heaping on the creationists

Bring all your petty works

Eliminate the creation sum cogitatum

Slide the locks not onto the wrists

But rather, free all man

Capitulate not,

But trimph

Capture the pure land of morning

Stumble not down dark alleyways

But walk in the broad avenues of the bright dawn

Silver your flesh with the blue pigments

Come into your power

The vines spotted with disease,

And covered with pollinators

Still going strong

Grinding the ashes into the floors

Bringing up the motions of solitude

Collapsing the wave of unfeeling

Wreaking havoc on the twelve steps

Taking your pills

Coming together; coming apart

Sliding the tumblers on the cosmic locks

Hearing them click into place

Opening the doors to transcendence

Elephantine Symbiosis

Clutter of human relations into the walled corridors of the underground city

Violent animosities and dysfunctional relations under the waters

Winging through the oily shroud of the fog into the depths

See the edge of the glowing star before the light is snuffed

Diving down into the vortexes’ center

Wild rats scurry from the portal

Down the abyssal shaft

Into the great house of shifting darkness