MANIFESTO EYE OF SIGNS
1
By number I meant the covertly
honoured female. Her triple heads
practice understanding.
So ideas come,
while the drawn-out
demon blood changes quality
to animate her delight: every form
is detestable. The calculation of love
knew nothing of that hieroglyphic power in
the Psalms.
2
The gift as communion: it
even cut someone.
It patterns
the body of flowers:
spirits veil the human
shadow it touches. What sign
is most bourgeois, most
imposing? The old laws emerged
as spectral texts from knuckle-bones,
yet the copy dismantling itself
was considered essential. Proserpine
offered infinite constraints to happiness:
we get close
while others survive.
3
Redeem the mind by paradox!
A passer-by becomes the instrument of spaces:
26 or 32. Blind Typhon has published
an edition with added shadows, not
the tentative hint of flesh.
What oracle moved him,
dominated by sinister knowledge
of the mother
I love and envy? In drink,
she labours as if it
rendered argument irrelevant,
dragging radicalism into the abyss.
4
Some comprehend the production
of a limited but social
ruin, sheltering
beasts who name things,
stripping the mind of a corpse
that reported non-being.
5
After the nature I never envy
comes blackened, still fulfillment.
The escalator just appeared. His body is
curious and incapable. Even the astrologers
seek you, perplexed,
in horror of slippage, flood.
Belial has such bronze distinction: he
enables the confident one to use men
and wives, then dies.
6
Certain to be replaced,
the fair man makes a subtler
category of ideal future servitude:
eternal submission to shifting profit. We
should become chaos, but the system of Medusa
understood his testimony: it
changes form through metaphysical
refraction, narrowing a
mummer's eyes. You destroyed
the little wolf I met, whistling of
its most socialist martyrdom. Only warriors
may read secrets: these
citizens understand invasions
that end
in euphoria, fetch
a replaceable bearded cult
goddess in consequence of the hunger
we never regarded. My lamb
loves modernity, things that signify absence.
1
By number I meant the covertly
honoured female. Her triple heads
practice understanding.
So ideas come,
while the drawn-out
demon blood changes quality
to animate her delight: every form
is detestable. The calculation of love
knew nothing of that hieroglyphic power in
the Psalms.
2
The gift as communion: it
even cut someone.
It patterns
the body of flowers:
spirits veil the human
shadow it touches. What sign
is most bourgeois, most
imposing? The old laws emerged
as spectral texts from knuckle-bones,
yet the copy dismantling itself
was considered essential. Proserpine
offered infinite constraints to happiness:
we get close
while others survive.
3
Redeem the mind by paradox!
A passer-by becomes the instrument of spaces:
26 or 32. Blind Typhon has published
an edition with added shadows, not
the tentative hint of flesh.
What oracle moved him,
dominated by sinister knowledge
of the mother
I love and envy? In drink,
she labours as if it
rendered argument irrelevant,
dragging radicalism into the abyss.
4
Some comprehend the production
of a limited but social
ruin, sheltering
beasts who name things,
stripping the mind of a corpse
that reported non-being.
5
After the nature I never envy
comes blackened, still fulfillment.
The escalator just appeared. His body is
curious and incapable. Even the astrologers
seek you, perplexed,
in horror of slippage, flood.
Belial has such bronze distinction: he
enables the confident one to use men
and wives, then dies.
6
Certain to be replaced,
the fair man makes a subtler
category of ideal future servitude:
eternal submission to shifting profit. We
should become chaos, but the system of Medusa
understood his testimony: it
changes form through metaphysical
refraction, narrowing a
mummer's eyes. You destroyed
the little wolf I met, whistling of
its most socialist martyrdom. Only warriors
may read secrets: these
citizens understand invasions
that end
in euphoria, fetch
a replaceable bearded cult
goddess in consequence of the hunger
we never regarded. My lamb
loves modernity, things that signify absence.
