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Jane Joritz Nakagawa – Evil Nature (3)

Jane Joritz Nakagawa

Evil Nature (3)

… lithosphere

                  (cloudy in the    shopping                                    mall)


blepharism,

                                                            lithospheric bepharospasm

                            (wait while i go          ….             to
hell
                                   with
(you…)

                  half expecting a baby
                                                    sort of translucent melody

(act of translucent beauty)

….emblematic clouds…

                          translucent body cloud

                          badly parented cloud could

fragrant, fragrant, chameleon clouds…

         (next to a sullen                  Xmas wreath)

in a slumber

                                            (… although it was fire ant …mating season)

… antique distraction

…no need for self direction

         You mean like an antique —-?
         Yes, exactly
         Having become a character in a novel, like the man with peeling fingers who
                  touched mine?
         In a manner of speaking.
         How will you approach (distortion)
                  Filmed with (deleted)

                 …crimes you plan
                 …subsequent mercy
                 …subsequent memory
                 …turned into fodder

…effacement

                          cloud with typing mistakes becoming could
          dogmatic grass
                          without resorting to trees
          having become a character in a novel

…she is so dead after all

                                                    (…surreal lives rejected you….)

         space that intrudes
         interval disrupts
         to stop the erection
         halt the clouds

                  missing spaces (hole in the sentence…) my hole….

intravenous heaven          sermon

         (someone needed                      in the control room…)

cereal munching cloud                                         serial killing cloud

         i leave you the field
         i betroth you to…

(waiting for …. cry…)

“i heard a loud sobbing sound which was my own”

translucent impulse

         “intense clinging”

                          in the conceptual air

                          clouds with speech impediments

                                         “thin existence”


events were like extremists

                                  …which i read aloud to myself but
                                  only subvocally, with incomplete
                                  candor

                                  the candle maker, embroidered with
                                  all consuming self-care: that’s what
                                  i plan to …

                                  to be embroidered into the
                                  surface of the newly transparent cloud, rendered
                                  this way

                                  waxy like substance, substitute
                                  for grief

                                  inserted into the quote “oh do let me
                                 …. you”  …. reply, though
                                  forthcoming ….. isn’t…

to be embossed by the

                                                            usual suspects, untoward candor

usual snapshots
                                 darkening resolve

rebuilt candescently.  the condescending reply
          of the government, embroidered with all consuming
self service.   to be enveloped in wax
                  is close to that feeling, i mean.

(subvocal snapshot
rendered into substitution)

or everyone is…

                          maybe so cheerful
                          maybe so real
                          globe tilted the wrong way
                          must be the reason for the

                          imbalance in wealth…


                          (please grow a new limb)

                          —Chuck D explains white men’s culture

         —on the bag of the young japanese girl on the train is written
                                           music ecology earth

grow a new limb, meanwhile

                  (i grew up on a farm myself.  hid among cows.  rolled in hay…)


“true love” cloud i wish to empty my machine gun into

         (stones mere stones, truth falls like rocks on your head)

sidestepping this point for the moment, hopscotch cloud where one
         must be careful of one’s footing…

                          but i don’t really have the necessary
                          self
                          sacrifice


without ideas there are still words.  the words are still.   you move around them.
they don’t fight back.

in your polite body.  “Oh” the sounds of “it.”

in the body.

heavens help those, do, who.
a hand in the bird worth 2 hands in the bird soup.

(slipping into a flat field of words)


                                                                           On my birthday i compose a
                                                                           greeting to myself.  Dear jane
                                                                           ur not 1/2 as bad as people
                                                                           say ur only twice as.  now ur
                                                                           twice as old as u were
                                                                           a half life ago.  isn’t 1/2 as

                                                                           bad as i remembered it, only

                                                                           slightly worse.  Im 1/2 as rich
                                                                           as.  blah blah…a fraction of
                                                                           that…

and the air! hypnotic! funerals queue up.


        predictably mundane sky
                          be grateful for the backyard noise

                          the dew is tangled


          emancipatory cloud strategy (a kind of ornamental menstruation)

oh mad disciplinarian!

                                   in our wounded beauty

setting fire to the library

                                   off fastidiously

decorating our nests

                                   clouds natter…

living in an aftermath           (pieces which never come together)

                                   Like polite conversation

Increasing the blue around us,

                                   hopeful activity

                                           (please follow the argument to its end!)

                          Whose sentiment that was?

i used to believe
                         …. safely reached their destinations


                                                                            and propaganda
(a kind of linoleum quaintness)


with only our chaos to guide us         large antenna obscuring the view


taste the            forgetfulness             you once were
         oh death squad!

         toxic tools symbolizing completion
(without the disintegration)

                  brave suicide.  noise from across the room. the
                          concentration it took.

                                                            which i had recently learned.
finally giving up, blades of grass, mountains far away…


                                 cloud censors you, grass stifles you

while inventing the
                                 story
                                 hierarchy
                                 armies
                                 oncoming noise

As a kind of blinkered portraiture.
Who is speaking for us, among the
colonized clouds…

                                                   A vigilant approach to time and space
                       Prolonged history of vengeance
discourse controlled by the
         detours of language
placed on a scale of value

                          dotting the horizon
                                                                              trees disproving reason
                          via symbolic substitute
rapidly becoming intervention

feeling slightly nuts,
(cows in the grass)


reason in the world, without.

         vision that would be kept
         version that would be kept down


         suppurated

“splendor of your waste”
                                                                  “fallen into disuse”

spotty complexion sky

pirouetting sky
         terrible enfant
how now not vomiting
                                   in the billowing grass
                                                                                      urine stained sky


hysterical disgruntled trees

how now not looking

would be sky, why does … it …. take forever ….. to move the clouds?

how now not singing a tune

plastic orgasm, despair on the front steps, feelings by remote control

battlefield with the [drugs] in it    feelings i can[not] control…

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