The Jivin' Ladybug

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Heller Levinson

Value Is


            my MP26 Braun Citromatic

juice squeezer with its

Adjustable Fruit Pulp Content

            press half of a citrus fruit onto the cone

administration is key to knack little happens without revolution

when the fruit is pressed down the motor will start

documentation absorbs essence why does everyone know so much more than I do

            refrigerated fruit toasted alpine bruise     delinquency infestation the

neighborhood lockup insincere     when lifted off the cone, the motor turns off

automatically     satisfying daily Vitamin C requirement passage to the presto

land umbilical snug untrammels electron wild-hairs     a ritual candid

as fire     assessing the sustenant arithmetic     the ingestive dialogue

the counterpositional

subterranean abutments     the bird

feather a case in point     breath-eye

the tongue ramped overlid

squeeze & serve






bituminous, ...


stropping the leather

cut & fold

amassment & motion

to amass gain motion

burn to move

nursery rhymes hum of this

diaphanous clicks merit a clack away

gathering forest frost orphic retaliative

full house

file/filtration frolic is dispositional & earned


collect angulations

what rises above the earth ent(r)ails beneath

the shape of a thing

and then, sincerity






horizon,             roam

to roam is to disappear

‘When the horizon disappears, what then appears is the horizon of disappearance.’

white blood collects overdue brooms the chowder gardens dials chromosome weep

the last page along the roadside reads of old oaks crowing with the awk of virile sea lions

a dune is a vertical centerpiece declaring nudity

going down the road lightly encounters sobriety holding a conference in the middle of knife

are you happy

to roam is to appear

snow follow you






trespass,                     origins, avowal


Faustian furlough           fustian spill

frumpery quills

out of what substance

the notes arise ...

rock?  canvas?


clench mountain rag

                                  (Sam’s Club now takes MasterCard

homocercal destitution

                                   (directive wreak

locks grow independent and sullen, grapeworthy

barbed skin wire shroud to scroll shred



capitulative acerbity



Evacuation: A Story



            Henry Donniger, terry-robed and latte sipping in the comfort of his newly purchased Greenwich Village Brownstone, luxuriated in the recent success of his latest art performance “Get Shot” where in a swanky Soho gallery an expert marksman succeeded in piercing the flesh of his left triceps with a .22 bullet.

            The blood was paid for in dollars.

            He contemplated his next move.


            He had been suspended in harness from a gallery ceiling, his body and face riddled with needles and nails.  Blood dripped profusely – (ex-pressively) – upon the floor – Pollock was So yesterday.  The piece was entitled “Pain.”

            He had done “Merry Bovinity,” where in a recreated barn he copulated with a cow.  Although this performance received vast attention, after a few days it was closed down by the authorities, a collision which merely served to enhance his popularity.

            What to do next?

            Struggling with this conundrum, Henry grabbed The New York Times and made for the john.  Legs a splay, enjoying this moment of relief, this period of pleasurable release, it came to him – it came to him not in pyrotechnics and choruses, nor in technicolored superlatives laced with cymbal crashes, but – in a sustained exertive-alimentary squeezing-out , as all true truths emerge, truths that are truly truths, truths from the gut, feelings from the in-side.

            He would shit.


At first even he was embarrassed by the idea.  Taking the basic life function of evacuation and transforming it into performance art?  And that’s when his brilliance once again came home to him, -- “but of course,” he told himself, “the elemental, the deified functional, what could be more suitable than a good shit?”

            Copulation was old hat.  An internet tapped-out pornographic cliché.

            Pissing was two-dimensional.  It didn’t offer the multi-dimensional sculptural forms that #2 did.  Ah, sculpture! … the plastic art.  He was so excited with his brainstorm that the remaining sphincter squeezes were a bit rushed.  He wiped, buckled, washed his hands, then raced to the living room to call his agent.

            “Morris!” he spoke excitedly into the phone, “I’ve got it!”

            Behaving like an anxious mother, Morris was always burdening him with perturbations about how he was going to top his latest act.  Worries about ambitious newcomers trying to edge their way into his client’s market (and, of course, his pocketbook) plagued his every thought – in short, he was your basic nervous Nellie-palm sweating-money hungry-highly strung-cell phoneclutching – middle man.


            The opening was packed.  Rock style.  Lines around the block.  Balloons, ribbons, reporters, photographers, flashbulbs, bass drums, trumpets, searchlights – Excitement!

            Morris was earning his keep.  He had arranged appearances on TV talk shows, radio interviews, alerted all the media, prodded the paparazzi, and pumped out tantalizing pronouncements such as:  “Experience Neo-Post Modernist Dadaistic Nuclear Futuristic

Excretionism!” “See The First Artist Who Dares To Bare His Insides!” and other trumped-up promotional doozies.

            Henry Donniger paid special attention to the time of the event.  And to what he would be having for breakfast.  Scheduling, Orches-trating, stretched the very fibers of his artistic imagination:  too soon and the creative flow he would be exhibiting would suffer from insufficient tension; if he took too long, he would risk producing ennui.  He knew he needed to insure a large demonstrative evacuation and, at the same time, be able to hold it long enough to build a proper period of suspense among his audience, his fans, his – shit worshippers.


            Habitually, he would breakfast around eight o’clock and dump about nine thirty.  This would be his major bowel movement of the day.  Okay then, exerting his ratiocinative capabilities, he brainstormed and through force of insight concluded to schedule the event at 10 a.m. and to breakfast in walking distance of the gallery.  He would breakfast slightly heavier than usual.

            Installments, angles, lighting, seating, what toilet paper to employ for the denouement – maybe even get a signing-deal like athletes – there was much for an artist to think about.

            The toilet would be of glass, scrupulously cleaned only hours before he mounted the throne, and then buffed and pampered minutes before the doors opened, as if it was a rare automobile at a car show.

             But here we encounter an artist’s internal struggles, the profound, and often tormenting, decisions men of genius must grapple with.

            Henry Donniger’s initial instinct was to hide his face.  To only show from the hips down.  But as a painter steps back from the canvas to assess his latest brushstroke, Mr. Donniger perceived a flaw.  And it is these decisions that separate the Great Artists from the mere mortals.

“Hide my face!” he said to himself, “What cowardice! Utter nonsense! How could I have entertained such an idea?!  Facial movements, groans, grimaces, contortive jowling, are all integral to the art of expulsive expression.”

He called to advise Morris of the results of his deliberations.
            “Brilliant,” was the reply.

Morris was busy lining up lawyers to protect Henry’s first amendment rights and to insure smooth flow at the exhibit.  He was also confabulating with a film crew he had hired to take his client to the next level:  Film, DVD, MTV (he mustn’t forget to arrange vocal instruction for Henry), and print exposure – Time, Newsweek, U.S. News & World Report.


The morning of the event (or, more colloquially, the “big dump”) – champagne, cameras cameras cameras, journalists, art critics, foreign correspondents from France, Italy, Germany, the U.K., the Balkans, African nations, Australia, New Zealand, South America, they came from the four corners of the earth. – all were on hand to witness what would perhaps be the most pioneering artistic event of the 20th and 21st centuries.  Sony Entertainment’s (Henry was in the process of signing a five year deal with Sony) top brass had arrived nattily navily suited with sharp pocket squares and laptops housed in cushy black leather briefcases, mini-skirted nubiles quickly escorted the Sony contingent to reserved front row seats. The mayor’s office had been presented with legal documents in advance to prevent any disruption, the police had arrived to manage crowd control.

Morris was pumped with importance.  How many agents could boast a contemporary Michelangelo? Or greater? 


It was 8:30a.m.and Henry Donniger was breakfasting on three fried eggs sunnyside up with sausage, toast, orange juice, and plenty of black coffee.

He ate alone.

He wanted to concentrate on digestion, on mentally escorting the food as it progressed through his body; keen concentration was required; the process of nutritious assimilation was a very essay in artistic commitment.

The bodyguards whisked Henry from the limousine and guided him through the back door.  Ten Minutes till Showtime.

Meticulous calculations determined that he’d be able to hold off for ten to fifteen minutes once seated upon the throne.  This was an important interlude.  A critical element in the success of the overall composition.  Building dramatic tension was crucial.  A low rumbling in the intestines caught his attentions.

Henry approached his medium.  Strutting down the red carpet to the locomotive blare of rap music, decked out in a colorful orange, maroon, and white satin robe, he resembled a favored prizefighter as much as a world renown artist.

The gallery was packed wall to wall.  He marched down the red carpet to where his canvas lay perched upon a raised cylindrical surface that was set to revolve slowly, affording each member of the audience an opportunity to feast upon a “frontal”.

Stage directions called for red curtains to surround the toilet until Henry had disrobed and was fully established upon the throne.  Curtains to be opened at First Grunt.


Kathleen Baedecker, Art Editor for the New York Times, was furiously composing for tomorrow’s headlines:  “Donniger Dumps On The Art World!”; “Dadaism, Expressionism, Post-Modernism, -- Excretionism!”

            Scholars were already at work updating Art Survey books:  “From Van Gogh’s Sunflowers to Donniger’s Dump”.

            Morris was all aflutter, delirious with the attention, the activity, the sheen and scope of world-wide celebrity hood, he visualized buying an estate in Connecticut, a brand new red Ferrari, -- he could barely control his pee as he chided with the boys from Sony.

            The curtain parted.

            Donniger sat.


            Great achievement, virtuosity, demands practice and Henry was not one to shirk this essential.  He paid a small stipend to those responding to his ad in the Village Voice:  “Artist Needs Assistants”.  Of course, just meeting the renown Henry Donniger was payment enough for the young and ambitious.  Other artists employed models; he had shit-gazers.  He would diligently practice (having benefited from Madeline Bruser’s book “The Art of Practicing:  Making Music from the Heart”) relieving himself day after day with a minimum of ten persons watching until he got to the point where he could eliminate as comfortably in front of people as he could in isolation.

            He had woodshedded.  He was ready.  And in anywhere from ten to fifteen minutes, his well-rehearsed “art” would emerge.

            The toilet was gleaming!


            Henry, deep in concentration, apparently oblivious to his surroundings, flipped a page of Newsweek.  He had instructed that air ducts be installed near and around his canvas so that the proper odors disseminate to the audience.  It was imperative that they suffer no sensory deprivation. 

            Like connoisseurs relishing every note of a Mozart Piano Concerto played by Mitsuko Uchida, the audience grasped at the melodic flatuses, fastened to every groan and grunt, to each grimace, to each vacillation in his physiognomy, applied their critical capacities to interpret the nuances in odor issuing throughout the room, they committed their entire beings to this privilege of being able to attend what was surely the Artistic Event of a Lifetime!


            Concomitant with the relaxation of his sphincter and the initial emergence of matter,

Henry Donniger....plotted his next move.



(for Anke L. Nolting


Zildjean           Sabian             Meinl               Wuhan

metallurgical crash cousins synoptic palimony           circumlocu-navihabitational

thinnest of instruments           sound

resounding bound round         clown sound

pound down clown round      pound pound     ping     a-ling

Samba sound   Rock    Mambo   Hop   Night In Tunisia sound

go round round           around bound              circu-larity       cymbal-solidarity

cymbal-hilarity            cymbal celerity

cymbal-sizzle cymbal pop       cymbal singularity

singularly cordial-convivi-al-ity


                        [This is an installation piece.  The Galaxy Gallery in Chelsea created an acoustical marvel to showcase my CymbalOlogy installation.  Cymbals from around the world, cymbals of all shapes and sizes, are arranged in Smash-Fashion.  Striking implements -- sticks and mallets, brushes, etc. – are placed on wall mounts to enable gallery guests to contact the various cymbal-essences.  The Galaxy Gallery champions the world’s first Cymbal-Scape.]


::  The cymbal was first used by an orchestra in the 1680 opera Esther, by Nicholas Strungk, performed in Hamburg, Germany.  The Zildjean company in the United States manufactures the most widely used cymbals in the world.  The company has been making cymbals by a secret method since 1623. ::



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l   VERIZON      CALVIN KLEIN     ARMANI       GUCCI                        l

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A musical cymbal sound is one that blooms or grows after it is set in motion.

amalgamation agglomerator cruise missiling diameter stretches a shame if Kangaroos lose that grace                    

identifying marks establish creature-hood      the bell is cymbal-hood

                   (salt solutions salinity palpable saliva stations)

providential-ity     in psalm 150, David exhorts “Praise him upon the loud cymbals; praise him upon the sounding cymbals.”  and here they come, the janissaries, loud sounding and Terraplane rousing, with their armies, their shouts and hurrahs, their edged weapons spitting fire, their clanky shields whacking through enemy and field, surmounting fiefdom and moat, sound as support as chronicler and bastion basher as cavalry and charger siege engines trebuchet trench counterweight torsion master masterful mankind mastermind cymbal STRike

cymbal MiGHT


the sound of two great cities – New York & London, or Paris, say – performing, rising up, melted and hammered into format, tempered, and should they strike in this fashion, crash together, two giant Cymbal-Cities (New York & London, or Paris, say), & were it pleasing, would other cities conjoin, succubussed by the music in their ears, their very marrow ringing, could this be the start of a movement –

Barcelona & Naples -- *********

Chicago & Baghdad --*********

Tampa & Tehran -- *************

Moscow & Mogadishu -- *********

Milano & Michigan -- *************

Bogota & Berlin -- ****************

Sao Paulo & Reykjavik -- ####*******

will this sound production, ringing from the center to the extremities, create a global giddiness, a planetary parade – drum sticks, bass drums, cymbal crashes, trumpet voluntaries, color garrisons overloaded, unconventional and ultra-beaming, could this musicality/communality/commonality (and why not) produce a paradigm shift, a political revolution, a ... – P-A-R-T-Y!!?


            and does this (and why not) spell an invitation to the solar system to respond, to behave in kind, for earth to clay & clang with Moon and then with Venus, & Venus with Mars, & Mars with Jupiter, inciting a chain – planetary – reaction, -- each planet being granted a “musical-leave-of-orbit,” & as this jangling carillon honking prospers, producing squeals & peals of planetary ploans, won’t other galaxies take notice, desire to plunge into this alloy spinning dervish fest, ...


            Important to the symphony orchestra is contrast.  Seek exaggerated highs & lows in choosing your cymbals.  Cymbalic mood swings.  Prescription drugs to promote Cymbal-Calm ....


‘working the iron cymbals

I take the low road gouges

in the esophagus of the right eye


nuyon kidi

nuyon kadan

nuyon kada

tara dada i i’


corralling the gold cymbals

I load the high road gauges

in the big toe of the engine room


cyber spume     crypto cycadaceous syllogistic jisms

splash sumptuosities

crackling correlative cambiatas


cymbalogy-biology-symbology-astrophysiology cartographygeographytopographyapostropechoreography


Suggested Cymbal Soundings:

Chico Hamilton’s 32 second Eric’s time, Romeo and Juliet, Mozart’s opera The Abduction from the Seraglio, Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony, Max Roach’s simoom-cymbals / tongue-wafters/on Delilah/Clifford Brown & Max Roach, Elvin’s entrance on A Love Supreme – buoyed harem sizzle – Rachmaninoff’s Piano Concerto No.2, the New World Symphony, Das Rheingold, Scheherazade, ... your hometown marching band


‘Most cymbals are made of an alloy comprised of varying percentages of copper, tin, & silver.  After the cymbals leave the hammering area, they are lathed for a consistent & uniform taper.  Lathing is a process in which the oxidation is removed and tonal grooves are added.’


Schooling/lathing – school children de-oxidized, spun into vapor, vapid mind pits, calcification clusters, wrapped around technical gadgetry, drips spilling – intensive care unit -- from their brains,

mind-lathing our young with – unlike cymbals – no redeeming sound feature


‘Characteristics that affect timbre are the bell size , cymbal weight & profile.  The larger the bell, the more overtones the cymbal produces.’


shoaling buoyancy fanfare dollop truce

a fruit repast                calabash, pineapple, oranges, gourds zingling from cymbal slake

a flying citrus fiesta       encountering in air, seed spluttering playful humbuggery

            tintinnabulation saltatory salutation stall


B.B. King’s Lucille truss rod endlessly rocking


‘A full sound is one that produces partials.  It is not the distinct sounds but rather one broad articulation that blends the sound of both cymbals.’


coming together the coming together & entailment outcome contact outcroppings the misuse the use the downright utility/futility of entity-crash ... no abbreviation capable of diagnosing the plagiarisms of horn flagellant overexposed bushwhack cafe air pocketed coffers trilogy


does one morph free like sound?  an emotional organism rippling into the ether?  at point of contact, where is one?  suction cusped?  compressed into a dualistic blur?  a duality posturing fusion?  a flight to the elusive and legendarily promising One?


navigate sound, laboratize sound, navigate contact-ings, penetrations, trip the peel lids to child slide boatswain bowsprit pistol whip the blueprints

                                                                                            gas firing

oven splutter triadic marshmallow sundae sliver timbre palette roastings      psychedelic blues biopsies                  dream bends                climax seeds                sequin hammers

glimmer arousal jostlings splash eighteenth century enlightenment rakings


Hal Bennink at Tonic1/9/07:

‘I play what they give me.  I used to bring my own cymbals ... but now I play what is there.  My goal is to come into town with a matchbox and 2 matches and play the hell out of it.’


to the playground

to play is to ground

                                    to be ground-ed

clown sound resound bound round

                        Formica filly growth the bloom

frills & flummeries

                         frolic frolic candle bake

                         show me yours I show you make


rousing mandibular veracity fustigant perse


playground corporeal coil corporal the body preach the body Sound the Body Cymbalic!

lungs collude & collide – oxygen SPlash

kidneys thunderclapping

right atrium/left atrium

small intestine/large intestine forte-piano crash // clams prestidigitating

vulva lips

testicle gong

buttocks bash

hallelujah hip lock hammerheads

traditional hand hammered cymbals in pure B20 bronze

smash lash envelope CRASH


‘For I was Inca but not King.’

                                                  (Elvin cymbal scintillator

and I am stable and horse in the dying heart of the cloud

ringing perpetuosity prayers from fractious plates

palettes unwhettted & scolded on  the  eve  of  levitational  storm




1.  The Ultimate Guide to Cymbals by Nick Petrella.

2.  Antonin Artaud quotations from Here Lies (Exact Change, Boston, Translated by Clayton Eshleman, 1995, page 201).





mermaid, ...  delicious

chrolophyll                  gardenias                     brackish the bunt


Xenophon says of the horse, “And

in his frame , the first things which I say you ought to look at are the feet.”


And of the mermaid it is said,

and in her form, it is the tail that sickles & quickens.


comet’s tail                  dentrite                        kite

tail not indenturement but torque

mermaid, the form that whisks you away

that subterraneans

that issues deep down dark unders

that floats you in a clutch of surreptition

bellying violoncello shipload succumbs

respiratorial hazards

arguments encounter plum merchants reconnoitering spirogyra rum opulence

argonautic jubilee splash

mint ragas

requisition forms rise from the groin of the sea

a brace to







mermaid, ...         finning

the suppling mesmeric

                        liquidity wake

smelling electrically leviathan tails silhouette the shoreline

platters of  merriment guise taper-whip

to follow Mermaid Tail is to be encouraged

to sink

sweet submergence

something there is that loves a tail

sprite, flippy, ... whim-si-Cal-ity

trawling hirsute bloomfields calibrate

suction sweet zone whorl swirl spiflicated lungy crucifixions

torso pliant, manageable, ... squishy

below, tegular crystal, -- capable, rebuke-Able, launch-Able, Dar-ing, a slapping

slippery seductress



In Frederick Leighton’s “The Fisherman and the Syren,” the fisherman is hooked.  He is morsel, he is tail-tied, gripped by the tender sirloin he will undergo unprepared-for excruciations, ... he will be swallowed ... absorbed.


Hybridity pedals transference.  Property interminglements.  Disclosures race.  The hybrid in its eco-clash, its torsionanl topo-skin, -- rashes – an inexplicable electro-marvel charged with animistic colli(u)sions.  Human & animal in homomorphic concert.


slickly the succubi pool invitations

the road to slick road

urge to glide    splurge with slide ride runners giddy sled merrily merrily chide the chary


she excites

she invites

she slurps

she issues




the road to mermaid road



slippery when wet                   slappings

& plinks                       risings



a flappy tale with novelty

a pursuit more than a direction

the way to mermaid road, please

GPS mermaid road or money back

flute through route

one way

mermaid ahead

mounted on wheels

drums cornering






She springs from palatial calcareous open-shelled boudoir

             wrapped in nacreous rash of nubile mythology

                            (breeze of prince's robes

                              mercurial Karsavina

tresses spun from conjugating spirogyra laze ambulant

              shift in a reed-sway stream-sinewing hypnotic


miraculously coined

her hips slickened with newly minted scales

               splash raga showers of a gold-spattering sun-crystalling



artfully toileted    dagger decorated    mirror approved

a form tucked and marmoreal

flush with flex

quivering in a suppling bloom

as a leather whip coils restlessly upon the wall

she rudders a property

merciless with sting




in the hol(y)(iness)ding of mermaid


... wet

a slime of skin

a constellative reconstituting

the constitutionality of contact

conduit                        border crossing

currency traffic    net affiliatives    a consideration



space opportunes protrusion pills a coax collage


latitudinal rinse

threshing altitudes


Three Cuts from the Upcoming Smelling Mary:

 the road to bumpy road

 allowances distillable                             advances distal

                                                crib makeovers


trespass cornucopias             trespass birth

birthing : welding

the wield of                   influence




pattern loss to salvage

Formica sandstorms

into the eyes of antidepressants

                                                canned shriek

cortisone the bump

trajectory waste

blemishes stimulate holiday season

a fat man’s threnody

counterfeit war zones, counterfeit & overpexposed, trespass & war zone

the heart of trespass

trespass here

the integer copulatory, well-regarded

to further arch development point your toe

horticulture’s claim on monarchy


 the road to clear road

 Byzantium, Bethlehem, of young men galloping

& clad, a destination splayed

with inheritance, vegetative luxe,

well-watered, homeopathic & convinced,

lymphatic Interpol, hygiene with

its attendant intercessionals,

the tv interview,

clearance & predestination




the road to empty road

pitfalls -----------------potholes

Skeleton appears in the Collapse Ballet

premier danseur

to regurgitate then dishevel

the adumbratory arts, first a conveyor, than an arbiter

with alacrity


prior to fallout



“Barbara Do You Want to Sit Here?”


on the way to                    entrancing

           is the situational underprise    the

           sure-footed land on their feet

that swamp long sheaved the rhinos hauling music boxes

plying mud the kickbacks are greedy

governorships bristle with badge

geography is no longer ecumenical but

tailor made the button hole suits space curvature

adjacencies report for duty

the line-ups lack mischievous ship

lanterns on the run



See of Joy


sonic whale tongue daffodil lark

the predisposition to alluring

is most unkempt at dawn

the darkest lark is just before


god do I love Coltrane!

is so much excitement the methane underlining the seabeds gaseous riots dismiss early foreclosures as unseasonable

specialized mouthpieces and priority reeds surface as enflamed palominos the stagehands chary

with democracy celebrating milestone birthdays biking through Holland gestures mellifluous                    Adolphe Sax rouses virulent a

Schenectady of sound

in tracking an animal we deal with absence

an inclination birthday celebrations seek to arrest

saddling-up Bean’s sound wins dressage contests    

why is duration linked to corrosive

I’ll take it up with corporate

see the golden saxophones skipping the sea

the gospel

of the

great pulmonary



Two Hats


crop the field a bifocalism folding on jaundice ... she advises not to call after 9pm it cost her sleep last time the faux pas a loom orange dried with dingy seating, the cost of sleep, sleep on the international exchange, you are what you self, the selfless aren’t, the tribunal nervous with cadaver collapses fossils birthday biology cellular candles whistle anthems alive with whip, the sting that quickeneth, a premature whipping insures ejaculation coated with candy, quicken the string, covering atop, stages, the earnest are hard of hearing, the insincere leave traces, candlelight by disputation, parallels are in the making the handlebars soaring through space, take faith in the option,

leftovers by spillover           so


from hands this guitar


arc funding utter

       -- libretto arch

[11/29/08   107 Broadway


    Joe Giglio/John Stowell]

attack                settle

scrum ambush volley          rivulet rue

the fire next time

scatting Satin Doll press Blakey roll Blasts careen cylindrical pistol bricolage pops                   

                                                                      lambent tango reed sustain Satie drips

                                                                                            serried ruminants

rapid fire ascension transportationals                  seaweed drift skirt folds meditation moss

                                                                                                        ferrying breakwater

                     b(g)lade s(t)urf runner c(g)lad (light)ning breather

          {Lesion:  the fifth string of Joe’s Forshage Clownfish Ergonomic and the first string of John’s SoloEtte quit their guitars.  The players remark, are non-plussed.  The strings tangle and cavort.  Divide and sub-divide – four strings, eight, sixteen, form into hands, shadow the player’s hands, elongate into pure fingers, imagine music without fingers, champion fingers – recollect – eight, four, two:  Music is a collectivizing and divisionalizing of tones.   Can there be an occupation with no occupier?  The absence on the fretboard.  Coming to this absence.  With aptitude, with ammunition.  Migrating this space to purly allocatives ravenous with gypsy garish whorl dress churn.  Session:  the strings return --enlivened from exploring the prehistory of sound -- settle & attune.}


                      The Hand is a meditation upon design.


                               Embraceable You

                               four handed lunge

                         white Percherons carriaging tune

                              embracing a tune

                              embarking upon a tune

                                    -- tune-full         full-filling

tune                  attune-ment           adjustment ://: augment


perfervid robust lasso leaps spur placement perfidy city boulder mass transversible pasta breach

                                                             succor carousels ... pink flamingos

carpentry Camargue stallions

                                   (rouse) ambulan(ce)t ruse

                    {the spine connects the brain to nerves in the hand}

Pollock splash Klein swipes                           El Greco     Picasso

                                                                                 Blue Guitar

                                                                         Rothko pastel sleights


                  thi(e)s(e) hand(s)            thi(e)s(e) guitar(s)



                                   -- Versions








the digits cobbling

                                    clubbing the hoof corral


hooves of crepitant

this surge    these leggy prancers    these scrupulous gymnasts throaty upon the earth

most noble animal

sprig nymph                Godiva shareholder

first lute master

choir of mighty gallopers



rearing peals of skyscrape thrall

the trot that establishes then oozes gallop







Man O’ War


Hi Yo Silver


harness is a construction for intimacy

strapless intimacies, ...  amassments

            Horse is one of the few marveloulsy muscled , airily coursing animals that doesn’t want to eat you.

to cantilever the stirrup a time of reprieval and renewal

saddle up


loosed in the ecumenical corral these nuzzlings:

Xenophon says, in his The Art of Horsemanship:  “And in his frame, the first things which I say you ought to look at are his feet.”

Eohippus[i]  piano-ing the earth, to play upon the earth as if  you were tickling your beating heart beneath it, to spectate that ...

the individually segregated congregating to hoof, a clopped ensemble, can support more mass, now percussive, more of a striking instrument,

fingers, ... fist/club

support is an instance of mass

 piggyback the man


Virilio writes:  “Man is the passenger of woman, not only at the time of his birth, but also during their sexual relations....  Paraphrasing Samuel Butler, we could say that the female is the means that the male found to reproduce himself, that is to say, to come to the world.  In this sense, woman is the first means of transportation for the species, its very first vehicle, the second would be the horse with the enigma of the coupling of dissimilar bodies fitted out for the migration, the common voyage.”

From this, we seek to explore the phenomenology of man’s initial dismount from his primary vehicle, to mounting his secondary.

dismount ... dissolution?

is the desire to mount the horse, this more steeply alterior body, an erotic ilmpulse, an impulse to exotic.  What does the exotic offer?  Is each serial vehicle – woman[ii], horse, train, automobile, airplane – an additional erotic encounter?


range of motion           explicities

idea hopping – abstraction mounts?



mount(ing), ... here

to bring forth               covering

to cover,   on top of ...

climb upon, to en-counter       voicings

the over and under    attaching

attach-ments                the cling to

umbilical soundings    to further

to go


in an ensemble (to assemble)

erasing the self in this act of twinning



romance bridles//strapped intimacies

the support bra

support and port

demiurge         the urge to move is the urge to extinguish where you are



wheel, ...         rotation,

 go round & round, to

& away from      rubbering to jointure   dis-

misses here delivers there

proximity legislator

campaign manager

reeling cartographer


to mount the horse to mount the machine is to breakthrough the borderline, it is to trace oneself out of the isolate self, it is a gesture toward Alterior Organization ...


“As a species, horses could not have survived without human intervention.  Humans could not have created wealth-generating (and, for that matter, leisure) opportunities that come with large cities without horses.  As the perceptive 1881 New York Times editorial observed, ‘Deprived of their human servitors, the horses would quickly perish; deprived of their equine servitors, the human population in cities ... would soon be in straits of distress.’”[iii]


Horse is bridge, is root splurging through sinew, is a sienna siren strophing the curvatures of an outsourcing periphery sonata, is the declamation in foetal bounding, the orchestral lightning spraying through the forelegs of a rearing defiance ...


“Among the Scythians, when a leader died, his horses were killed & buried with him.  The expectation was that they would be re-animated to serve the dead man in the after life.”



stallion black heaves from the stable cuckold-winds toss manefuls kicks & furies prows vertical lavades to erring Jezebels – converyors of halters grooms stables whips saddles coachmen riding crops all manner of tack rupture annihilative – the landscape grows cumulous sinewy, voluptuous mares trot from the forest, the black glee grows, pony stallions squeeze from his monumental shoulders, the de-humanization is vast & good, it is sound, pools of union flutter the tribe, there is intercourse & pawings ....



& horse looked unto man & saw that man was puny & would need speed, elevation, & haulers, saw that they could provide man with horsepower (33,000 foot pounds of work per minute) & great diversion & prove a showpiece & companion & understood that man could be good & could care for horse & would mitigate a great many perils that might befall in the wild & horse considered long & mightily & chose man to groom him & feed him & to tutor him in the dance ... & man undertook horse & prospered & to this day no other animal summons the monies that horse does ....

[i] Eohippus or Hyracotherium, the earliest believed ancestor of the horse.  “They had four toes on their front feet and three toes on their hind feet.  Each toe ended in a separate small hoof.  Large, tough pads similar to those on a dog’s foot kept the toes off the gorund,  These pads bore the animal’s weight.”  The text is exploring the ancestral telluric sensitivity prior to the padded toe evolving into the more hardened hoof.

[ii]   Woman/man is meant to be used interchangeably with no gender pronouncements – other than child-bearing – intended.

[iii] Clay McShane and Joel A. Tarr, The Horse In The City:  Living Machines in the Nineteenth Century (Baltimore:  The John Hopkins University Press, 2007), 178.









The Jivin' Ladybug- A Skewered Journal of the Arts
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